The Best of Pakistan-ness – Before Tourism Takes It Away

After posting my previous article, “Northern Pakistan – More Than Meets the Eye”, I was left with a lingering feeling that something was missing. There were a few important observations that I thought I should have included.

A Refreshing Lack of Unscrupulousness 

The first is the “innocence” of a child yet to be exposed to the ways of the world.

Tourism is still very much in its infancy in Pakistan, or at least northern Pakistan, since I have not visited the southern part of the country.

Few tourist spots had souvenir stalls, and even where they existed, the operators were not persistent in pushing their wares. Nor were the prices they quoted outrageous, as is often the case in our part of the world.

In short, they were not unscrupulous operators trying to make a killing from tourists' impulsive purchases.

In fact, I felt rather sorry for them. Tourist traffic was thin, and I wondered whether they could make a decent living from their businesses.

Everywhere I went, I tried to buy a thing or two, hoping to do my little bit to support local tourism.

I only hope that as tourism develops, these people will not lose their present innocence and become as commercially aggressive as their counterparts elsewhere.

The Fast-Ageing Phenomenon

Members of our tour group generally agreed that Pakistani children were remarkably good-looking, with sharp features, beautiful eyes and fair skin.

However, we also noticed that by the time many reached adulthood, they seemed to look much older than their actual age.

Their complexions appeared to have darkened under the intense ultraviolet radiation at high altitudes, while their skin had been roughened by hard work in the harsh outdoor conditions.

I suppose few could afford moisturisers or other skincare products. Neither do they enjoy the humidity that helps protect the skin in our tropical climate.

The combination of strong sunlight, dry air, harsh temperatures and demanding outdoor work must take its toll.

It was quite a contrast between the beautiful, youthful faces of the children and the weather-beaten appearances of many adults.

Their Curiosity and Friendliness

Another delightful observation was the curiosity and friendliness of the people.

They were not shy about approaching strangers to satisfy their curiosity. We were often asked where we came from, and their questions seemed to arise from genuine interest, without any apparent envy or ulterior motive.

On several occasions, we were invited to be photographed with local families, without any awkwardness.

At the China–Pakistan border control point, a group of young Pakistanis was delighted when I obliged their request to have photographs taken with me.

The same happened to my wife and me when we encountered a young family at the Centaurus Mall in Islamabad. They were just as delighted to have photographs taken with us.

There was something refreshingly spontaneous about these encounters. No commercial motive, no expectations, just a simple desire to connect with visitors from another country.

Conclusion
These may seem like small observations, but they left a lasting impression on me.

We often judge a country by its scenery, monuments, infrastructure, hotels and tourist attractions. Yet, ultimately, it is the people who leave the deepest impression.

Northern Pakistan certainly has its magnificent mountains, spectacular valleys and extraordinary landscapes. But what I found equally appealing was the unspoilt character of many of its people.

Of course, I am not suggesting that Pakistanis are uniquely innocent or that unscrupulous people do not exist there. I can only speak of what I personally experienced during our journey.

Tourism will undoubtedly bring much-needed employment, income and development to these remote communities. It would be unreasonable, even selfish, to wish that they remain isolated and economically disadvantaged merely to preserve their innocence for the enjoyment of tourists like us.

But development often comes at a price.

As more tourists arrive, commercialisation will inevitably follow. Souvenir stalls will multiply, prices will rise, and the friendly curiosity we encountered may gradually give way to the hard-headed calculations of the tourism trade.

It is a familiar story in many parts of the world.

I hope northern Pakistan can enjoy the economic benefits of tourism without losing too much of the warmth, simplicity and sincerity that make its people so endearing.

That, to me, is the best of Pakistan-ness — something worth preserving before tourism takes it away.

Northern Pakistan: More Than Meets the Eye

I was a little ambivalent when my wife suggested that we join a Go Holiday 360 tour to northern Pakistan. Some friends had visited this destination, but many others, including my son, were not encouraging. “Why Pakistan?” was the common question. I suppose they were all concerned about our safety. But as usual, I went along with my wife's wishes.

We gathered at KLIA on the 16th. There were only ten of us, including a tour manager who asked us to call him “Cash”. Our departure was badly delayed at KLIA, but besides receiving some generous meal coupons from Thai Airways, we were also invited by our travel insurance company, Berjaya Sompo, to spend the waiting time at a travel lounge at KLIA.

There was not much time to while away in Bangkok before we transited. By the time we reached Islamabad, it was late into the night. We had to catch a domestic flight at around 7 am, which meant we could only rest for a few hours in our hotel room at the Pearl Continental.

The Journey

Our tour began at Skardu Airport, from where we visited a number of tourist sites in the region before proceeding to Karimabad in the Hunza Valley, travelling along the mighty Indus River. From there, we went to Khunjerab Pass, where the China-Pakistan border checkpoint is located.

After that, it was the Hoper Glacier before we backtracked to Gilgit. From there, we travelled to Besham and then to the Swat Valley before returning to Islamabad for our flight home.

A Side Observation: Pakistan International Airlines (PIA)

We flew by Pakistan International Airlines to Skardu. The flight was quite uneventful. However, I felt a little sorry when I saw the PIA livery.

PIA was once among Asia's most prestigious airlines, and it played a significant role in the establishment of Emirates Airline in 1985. It is one of the more remarkable stories in Asian aviation history: an airline that helped launch what became a global aviation giant subsequently experienced a prolonged decline of its own.

PIA was founded in 1955. Under Air Marshal Nur Khan, who became its managing director in 1959, it developed a strong international reputation. In 1960, it became one of Asia's earliest operators of commercial jet services, using the Boeing 707. It was also the first airline from a non-communist country to operate scheduled flights to the People's Republic of China.

In 1985, Emirates began operations with two aircraft wet-leased from PIA. A wet lease meant that the aircraft came with operational support, including crews and maintenance arrangements. Emirates' own 2015 anniversary account records that approximately 100 pilots, engineers, maintenance personnel and other staff arrived in Dubai to help prepare for its launch.

However, over several decades, PIA became increasingly burdened by political interference, management instability, excessive staffing, debt and inadequate fleet investment. By December 2025, PIA's difficulties had become so severe that a Pakistani consortium led by the Arif Habib Group acquired a 75% stake for approximately US$482 million as part of a privatisation exercise.

There is a striking irony here: the airline whose aircraft and personnel helped Emirates begin operations in 1985 eventually found itself losing passengers to the very Gulf aviation industry it had helped develop.

The PIA story illustrates something beyond aviation: a country may possess considerable human talent, technical expertise and pioneering institutions, yet lose its competitive advantage through prolonged failures of governance and institutional management.

We spent eleven days touring northern Pakistan. This is not intended to be my travelogue, but rather a collection of impressions I gathered throughout the journey.

Mountains, Mountains and Mountains Everywhere

The northern region was full of towering, snow-capped mountains. The PIA pilot even pointed out K2, the world's second-highest mountain.

Much of the first eight days of our road journey was along gravel roads. We visited Shigar Valley, passing by the Sarfaranga Desert; stopped by Sadpara Lake and the Lower and Upper Kachura Lakes; and travelled to Karimabad in the Hunza Valley along the Indus River.

The border guards at Khunjerab Pass (4,733 metres) were friendly. However, we did not have the opportunity to visit the Chinese checkpoint.

There was no telecommunications signal along much of the way. Traffic was thin, and I wondered what would happen if our coach broke down!

Some 500 dwellings nestled along the gravel road to Hoper Glacier. For a different experience, the local tour collaborator hired jeeps to bring us there. Conditions in the various human settlements were quite basic. But some parts were very scenic, even though vegetation was generally sparse.

 Along the Karakoram Highway, we also got to see a stretch of the Old Silk Road, a point where the Indian and Eurasian continental plates collided some 55 million years ago, and a junction where three mighty mountain ranges meet — the Karakoram, the Himalayas and the Hindu Kush.

The Chinese are also involved in building two major dams and a new highway tunneling through the mountains tunnels for Pakistan.

There were also gemstone and gold mining activities along the way. One of our tour members, Joseph, obviously a gemstone enthusiast himself, had a field day on several occasions! Our tour manager, Cash, became his convert.

Much of the journey was dusty until we entered the SWAT region, where Shangla Pass is located. Vegetation became lush. This region is said to be the Switzerland of the East.

The local tour agency provided us with a Toyota Coaster, which technically could seat 16 passengers. However, several seats had to be used for luggage. It was really not comfortable for long journeys. There wasn't much legroom, but I could understand why they had to use this model. I suppose they had little choice, since the roads were generally too narrow to accommodate larger tour coaches. But for some strange reason, even the fittings in the coach — the seat's handle bar and the pocket for loose-items — were rendered unusable with a redundant jacket.

Buddhism

This was the most unexpected experience of my journey: the efforts of an Islamic country to preserve the ruins of Buddhism.

Buddhism flourished in this part of the world for many centuries, particularly during the Gandhara period, and survived in some areas until around the 14th century.

While in neighbouring Afghanistan, the Taliban destroyed two enormous standing Buddha statues carved into a sandstone cliff in the Bamiyan Valley, the Pakistanis, with the assistance of UNESCO, have made considerable efforts to preserve their Buddhist heritage.

In Skardu, we visited the ninth-century Manthal Buddha rock carving and inscriptions, dating from the later phase of Buddhism in the Upper Indus Valley.

We also visited the Swat Museum, where an impressive collection of Gandhara art from the Buddhist period is displayed.

En route to Islamabad, our tour guide also took us to see Buddha carvings and the remains of stupas and monasteries at various sites, including Butkara, Shingardar, Takht-i-Bahi and Taxila.

I also learned about the existence of the White Huns, who were instrumental in the destruction of many Buddhist sites. The people I asked could not tell me much about the White Huns, but I wondered whether they were related to the Xiongnu, who had repeatedly raided China in ancient times.

The Taxila Buddhist Museum was most impressive. It houses many relics, including a tooth said to be that of the Buddha.

In it contains a relic of Buddha's tooth

The Gandhara region, covering much of present-day northern Pakistan and eastern Afghanistan, was once a major centre of Buddhism. Places such as Taxila and Takht-i-Bahi were flourishing Buddhist centres long before the arrival of Islam.

Buddhism declined gradually as a result of changing political patronage, religious developments, economic shifts and successive invasions. In Sindh, it had largely disappeared by the 13th century.

Islamisation

Islam first reached the territory of present-day Pakistan through Arab traders and early contacts during the seventh century AD. However, it was not until 711–712 AD, in the early eighth century, that Islam gained its first substantial political foothold when Muhammad bin Qasim conquered Sindh.

Nevertheless, the local population did not immediately convert to Islam. Hindus and Buddhists continued to practise their religions for centuries.

From the 11th century onwards, Muslim rulers from Afghanistan and Central Asia extended their influence into Punjab and northern India. At the same time, Muslim traders, scholars and particularly Sufi missionaries helped Islam spread among local populations.

Under the Mughal Empire (1526–1857), Islam became firmly embedded in the political and cultural life of much of the Indian subcontinent. Nevertheless, the population remained religiously diverse, and the spread of Islam varied considerably from region to region.

The important distinction is that while Islam arrived through military conquest and commercial contact, the Islamisation of society was a much slower process, extending over several centuries.

We visited the 14th-century Amburiq Mosque in Baltistan, said to be the first Islamic religious monument in the Shigar Valley, built by Iranian craftsmen.

This is obviously a Shia heartland. Ayatollah Ali Khamenei is revered here. It is estimated that Shias constitute about 10–20% of Pakistan's population, although the proportion is much higher in parts of Gilgit-Baltistan.

Ethnicities

Pakistan is a remarkably diverse country ethnically. Although Pakistanis are predominantly Muslim, they belong to several distinct ethnic groups, with different languages, cultures and historical origins.

In the northern region we visited, the population is particularly diverse. The principal communities include:

• Baltis, mainly around Skardu and Baltistan. Their language is of Tibetan origin, and the region has strong historical links with Tibetan culture.
• Burusho, mainly found in Hunza and nearby valleys. They speak Burushaski, a language with no established relationship to other language families.
• Shina-speaking communities, particularly around Gilgit, whose language has Indo-Aryan roots.
• Pashtuns, who are prominent in the northwestern parts of Pakistan, especially around Swat and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. They share ethnic and linguistic connections with the Pashtuns of Afghanistan.

This diversity reflects Pakistan's geography. For thousands of years, the region was a meeting ground for peoples from the Indian subcontinent, Afghanistan, Persia, Central Asia and the Tibetan Plateau.

One particularly interesting point: the Baltis of Skardu speak a Tibetan-related language, even though the overwhelming majority are Muslims today. Their language preserves an important part of the region's pre-Islamic cultural heritage. Even some of their buildings reflect this heritage.

For Pakistan as a whole, Punjabis form the largest ethnic group, at approximately 45% of the population. They are closely related culturally and linguistically to Punjabis across the border in India.

Other major groups include Pashtuns, Sindhis, Saraikis, Muhajirs and Baloch, besides numerous smaller ethnic communities.

Overall Impressions

Even though the hotels were generally modest, they were quite clean and adequate. Those operated by the Serena chain maintained a very high standard of housekeeping, especially in their dining table and cutlery arrangements. They could put some of our hotels to shame!

We were pleasantly surprised to be greeted by someone who could speak Hokkien! He turned out to be a Malaysian Indian from Penang!

However, there were one or two hotels which were substandard, particularly in the quality of their bed linen.

The resident guide at Altit Fort in Hunza was a born entertainer. He spoke perfect English and had us in stitches much of the time.

Pakistani food was good, even for my wife, who does not take beef or mutton. However, the Chinese food specially arranged for us before our departure was disappointing.

Nothing particularly concerning was visible on the security front, even though there were many security checkpoints along the Karakoram Highway. In the SWAT region, we were provided with security escorts along the way, even when my wife and I were visiting a local shopping “mall”.

On the whole, Pakistanis are very friendly people. Yes, the region is poor, and there were children who asked us for 100 rupees or so. But they were not insistent.

We also agreed that the children in Pakistan's northern region are very good-looking. Those who are thinking of adopting children might want to visit the region!

End

The Damn Haze – Why Is It Always from Indonesia?

 

This year’s haze is particularly bad. And it has been lingering for so long!

And it could have been prevented in the first place!

Blame It on El Niño?

Every meteorological agency, including Indonesia’s own Meteorology, Climatology and Geophysics Agency BMKG (Badan Meteorologi, Klimatologi, dan Geofisika) says this year’s El Niño will be severe and could become one of the strongest, perhaps the strongest, in the modern instrumental record.

Yesterday (13 October 2026) BMKG reported that the Niño-3.4 anomaly had reached about +3.33°C in its latest 10-day analysis, while its three-month ENSO (El Niño–Southern Oscillation, which is the overall Pacific climate system) index for August–October was +3.08°C. BMKG explicitly classifies this as “El Niño sangat kuat” — very strong El Niño.

NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration of the United States) using a somewhat different dataset and baseline, measured Niño-3.4 at +2.1°C in its 8 October assessment and says a strong-to-very-strong El Niño is likely through January–March 2027.

Australia’s Bureau of Meteorology recorded a weekly relative Niño-3.4 value of +2.81°C for the week ending 11 October — the highest in that particular weekly dataset, exceeding the comparable 2015 value. Most models project the peak around November–December and above +3°C on that measure.

The WMO goes further. Its latest forecast expects the October–December Niño-3.4 seasonal anomaly to reach roughly +3.7°C, potentially exceeding previous modern records, with the event peaking around December.

BMKG reports directly to the President and handles weather, climate, air quality, earthquakes and tsunami monitoring. However, it can do all the forecasting with good accuracy, it cannot force a bupati (a regency head) to act, stop a villager from burning rubbish, arrest somebody clearing land by fire, or compel a plantation company to obey the law. Indonesia's ability to convert their warnings into preventive action: much less impressive. It can tell the President three months beforehand that conditions are becoming dangerous. The important question is what the President does with that warning.

Indonesia’s Double Whammy

This is especially important to our earlier discussion about the haze. Indonesia presently has not only an exceptionally powerful El Niño but also a positive Indian Ocean Dipole (IOD). BMKG measured the IOD at about +0.70 in early October. Both phenomena tend to suppress rainfall over much of Indonesia.

The result is quite dramatic. During the first ten days of October:

• 83.85% of Indonesia experienced low rainfall
• 87.72% experienced below-normal rainfall

BMKG has issued drought warnings across large areas of Sumatra, Java, Kalimantan, Sulawesi and elsewhere.

BMKG explicitly says that the combination of the very strong El Niño + positive IOD is reducing cloud formation and moisture over Indonesia and increasing the risk of forest and land fires.

Nature has dealt it an exceptionally bad hand this year.

But the leadership is so ill-prepared!

El Niño creates the tinderbox; it doesn't strike the match.

Peatlands don't ignite themselves simply because the Pacific warms. Human burning, drained peat, poor prevention and weak enforcement determine whether an extreme dry season becomes an international haze catastrophe.

And 2026 is precisely the sort of year in which a government that understood the danger should have been fanatically preventive months before the fires began.

Basically a Failure of Prevention and Land Governance

Much of the fire is burning in peat, not ordinary forest. Naturally wet peat does not readily burn. But when peatlands are drained for oil-palm, pulpwood and other development, the water table falls and metres of accumulated organic material become combustible. Once fire gets into the peat, it can smoulder underground for weeks, reappearing some distance away. NASA scientists say these underground fires can effectively continue until substantial rain arrives. Water-bombing helicopters deal mainly with the surface manifestation.

El Niño explains the severity, but not why the land was capable of burning. Indonesia is experiencing its worst fire season in roughly a decade, intensified by the strongest El Niño in more than ten years. But the important distinction is that drought does not create drained peatlands or start most Indonesian fires. Historically, the overwhelming majority of these fires have been associated with human activity — land clearing, agriculture, plantations and sometimes land disputes.

There has been a serious institutional gap. After the disastrous 2015 haze, Jokowi established the Peatland Restoration Agency, later BRGM. It concentrated on rewetting peat, blocking drainage canals and restoring damaged areas. Its mandate expired at the end of 2024, after which responsibilities became dispersed among different ministries. Indonesian parliamentary research itself warned that this fragmentation could weaken restoration and fire prevention.

Only on 24 September 2026, in the middle of the present crisis, did Prabowo announce a new National Peatland and Mangrove Management Agency. How pathetic!

The economic incentives favour clearing, while enforcement is much more difficult. Fire remains an extraordinarily cheap means of clearing vegetation. I do not believe large plantation interests are involved. The culprits are largely small smallholders and slash-and-burn nomadic cultivators who are oblivious to the danger of haze. Some of the problems can be attributed to overlapping concessions, unclear land titles, national-versus-local authority and uneven or hands-off enforcements. Research on Indonesian peat governance repeatedly finds fragmented responsibility and power struggles between government levels and interested parties.

Reactive rather than Preventive Mindsets

The government is still reacting after fires have become large. As recently as 13 October, Prabowo ordered additional resources as criticism intensified. Malaysia and Singapore have offered assistance, while Indonesia had not, at that point, accepted foreign help or declared a national disaster. Environmental groups estimate 637,000–900,000 hectares may already have burned in 2026. By the time tens of thousands of people, helicopters and water bombers are being mobilised, the crucial battle — preventing drained peat from igniting — has already been lost.

Indonesia demonstrated after 2015 that sustained peat restoration, canal blocking, monitoring and tougher enforcement can sharply reduce the problem. The World Bank specifically credits peat rewetting, zero-burning policies and stronger conservation measures with improvements after earlier crises.

But all was forgotten again!

The present episode suggests something more troubling: institutional attention relaxed, peat remained degraded, responsibility became fragmented after BRGM (Badan Restorasi Gambut dan Mangrove — the Peatland and Mangrove Restoration Agency of Indonesia) disappeared, and prevention was inadequate before this year's drought arrived. Prabowo is now throwing resources at the fires, but aircraft cannot repair the underlying hydrology.

In other words, El Niño lit the fuse, but Indonesia had allowed the gunpowder to remain there.

Misplaced Arrogance and Concept of Accountability

On 10 October 2026, Syahganda Nainggolan, the head of Indonesia’s Government Communication Agency (Bakom), said, “We don’t just send smoke; when there is no smoke, we send oxygen.” He added that the oxygen in Singapore and Malaysia also came from Indonesia’s forests. He was responding to criticism over the current transboundary haze.

He seemed to describe the present fires as essentially a natural phenomenon “beyond human error”. And this is not new. In 2015, then Vice-President Jusuf Kalla famously complained that Malaysia and Singapore enjoyed clean air from Indonesia for eleven months without thanking Indonesia, yet became upset over one month of haze.

An Indonesian minister also said something to that effect in 2013!

To me, that is revealing because it is not merely an unfortunate joke. It reflects a recurring defensive mentality in parts of the Indonesian establishment: when criticised over haze, the response sometimes shifts from “How do we stop this?” to “You benefit from us too, so don't complain.”

That attitude is almost the opposite of accountability.

What can we do if we have a neighbour like that?

Lack of Community Education

Indonesian research on peat-fire prevention identifies not only deliberate burning because it is cheap, but also seemingly casual behaviour such as uncontrolled rubbish burning, campfires and discarded cigarettes. The fact that researchers continue to call for basic community education, village fire groups and behavioural change tells us that this is not merely a problem of Jakarta policy or large plantation companies.

There are communities in Riau and Kalimantan that understand the danger extremely well and actively patrol against fires; indeed, some are now suing their own government over the haze.

In many places, the immediate local calculation can be very different from that of somebody breathing the haze in Kuala Lumpur or Singapore. Burning is cheap and familiar; the smoke may be regarded as seasonal inconvenience; the serious health consequences are delayed or poorly understood; and the eventual haze hundreds of kilometres away feels disconnected from the person who starts a small fire.

That creates a particularly difficult governance problem: weak enforcement from above combined with insufficient social inhibition against burning from below. If setting a fire were regarded locally with the same seriousness as contaminating a village's drinking water, Indonesia's haze problem would already be much smaller.

And this helps explain something otherwise puzzling: Indonesia has been suffering catastrophic haze episodes since at least 1997–98. After nearly thirty years, the country certainly cannot claim ignorance of the phenomenon. What is missing in parts of the countryside is not information that haze exists, but a sufficiently strong culture of prevention and personal responsibility for causing it.

That distinction — knowing about haze versus feeling responsible for preventing it — may actually be the more important point.

Having lived and observed rural and semi-rural communities firsthand, I find the lack of awareness of the health and environmental consequences of open burning widespread enough to be a major cause of the haze problem.

A farmer or villager who regards burning rubbish, clearing undergrowth, or setting a small patch alight as perfectly normal behaviour may not connect his individual fire with the enormous haze cloud eventually hanging over Sumatra, Java, Malaysia or Singapore.

And after decades of recurrent haze, that widespread indifference becomes a governance failure as well. If people still do not appreciate the danger, then public education, enforcement and local leadership have plainly failed.

So I would now add a fifth fundamental cause to my earlier analysis: a deeply inadequate grassroots awareness of — and sense of responsibility for — the consequences of open burning. That is much closer to the point you were making.

Indonesia needs a Lee Kuan Yew

Indonesia’s problem is not a shortage of laws; it is a shortage of consistent enforcement, administrative discipline and consequences.

What I am invoking in Lee Kuan Yew is less the man himself than a governing style: clear rules, competent bureaucracy, relentless follow-through, little tolerance for excuses, and the willingness to impose unpopular measures when public order or long-term national interests are at stake.

On haze, that would mean stopping illegal burning before the dry season, holding local officials personally accountable, prosecuting concession holders regardless of connections, and sustaining public education until behaviour actually changes.

Some argue that Indonesia is vastly harder to govern than Singapore: more than 17,000 islands, hundreds of millions of people, powerful provincial and district elites, deeply decentralised authority, and enormous rural areas where Jakarta’s instructions can become progressively weaker as they travel downward.

I beg to differ. 

A determined leader changes how that machinery behaves. He makes an issue a national priority, appoints people who can execute, removes those who cannot, and makes governors, bupatis, plantation owners and enforcement agencies understand that failure has consequences.

There is actually a useful Indonesian comparison. After the catastrophic 2015 fires, Jokowi personally elevated peatland restoration and fire prevention, created new institutional mechanisms and imposed much stronger political attention on the problem. The World Bank describes the post-2015 period as bringing a new urgency under Jokowi’s leadership.

Prabowo, by contrast, called slash-and-burn clearing “ecological terrorism” on 17 September 2026, but by 13 October, with the haze already affecting neighbouring countries badly, he was still ordering additional resources to fight fires that had been raging for weeks.

LKY did not wait for Singaporeans spontaneously to acquire civic consciousness. He forced behavioural change through leadership, education, enforcement and persistence, until much of it eventually became social habit.

Applied to Indonesia, a sufficiently determined president could say: No more burning. Then make every governor and bupati responsible for hotspots in his jurisdiction; punish officials who look the other way; prosecute politically connected concessionaires; educate villagers relentlessly; provide practical alternatives to burning; and repeat the exercise every dry season until attitudes change.

Indonesia's enormous size makes that harder than Singapore. It does not make it impossible.

And perhaps the most important point from your experience there is this: when widespread public attitudes themselves are part of the problem, strong leadership becomes more important, not less. Institutions don't suddenly acquire determination. Somebody at the top has to supply it.

I always joke with friends about sending recalcitrant officials to firing squads, just like what they do in China.

But literally, no: China does not quite send people to a firing squad nowadays. But it certainly has a reputation for making people fear the consequences of breaking rules. Serious environmental offences can attract heavy fines and long prison terms.

When Beijing decides that something must stop, local officials know that failure can damage careers and offenders know punishment is real.

That changes behaviour very quickly.

And that is precisely what Indonesia lacks on haze: not laws, but fear of the law and fear of accountability. A bupati, plantation manager or villager must believe that if he permits or starts illegal burning, somebody will actually come after him. Without that, annual appeals to “please don’t burn” become almost meaningless.

Indonesia does not need more regulations on haze; it needs a government that makes people afraid to ignore the regulations already there.

What good are speeches, slogans, television appearances, grand announcements if an elected leader cannot produce durable results.

A leader may appear to project decisiveness, yet Indonesia is again struggling with a preventable haze disaster, and he is now mobilising additional resources after the fires have become severe. Communication has increasingly been mistaken for governing. Social media, 24-hour news and personality politics reward the leader who looks decisive immediately. Actual leadership is much more boring: choosing competent people, forcing bureaucracies to perform, accepting responsibility when things fail, pursuing policies for years rather than weeks, and being prepared to lose popularity to get necessary things done.

That brings us back to Lee Kuan Yew. Whether one admires or dislikes his methods, nobody could seriously accuse him of mistaking announcements for outcomes. If Singapore was dirty, he wanted it cleaned. If corruption was the problem, officials were investigated and punished. If public behaviour had to change, the government pursued it year after year until it changed. The test was not what had been announced but what Singapore looked like afterwards.

A politician wants people to believe he is strong. A leader makes the state work.

At a deeper level, leadership is about character, moral courage, historical imagination, legitimacy, judgment under uncertainty, and the ability to shape a people’s sense of direction. A country can be efficiently administered and still be badly led.

The Real Lesson of the Haze

So let us stop blaming El Niño. El Niño explains why 2026 is extraordinarily dry. It explains why vegetation burns more easily and why peat fires become so difficult to extinguish. But El Niño did not drain the peatlands. It did not light the fires. It did not allow decades of casual burning to become culturally tolerated.

Those were human failures. And ultimately, human failures of this scale become failures of leadership. A good leader cannot make the rain fall. But he can prepare for the drought.

He can make sure the peat remains wet. He can make local officials accountable. He can educate his people. He can enforce the law. And, above all, he can create a culture in which starting an illegal fire is no longer regarded as an inconsequential act.

Indonesia has had almost thirty years since the great haze of 1997–98 to learn this lesson. How many more years does it need?

End

A Schoolyard Lesson for the World’s Leaders

Donald Trump sometimes reminds me of a class bully I encountered when I was in Remove Class, transitioning to Form One at Muar High School.

I was a reasonably good-looking young fellow and perhaps a little too scholarly for the liking of some of my classmates. Among them was a boy whom the others nicknamed “Black Skin” because of his darker complexion — a nickname that would rightly be regarded as derogatory today.

He was rather stoutly built and, for reasons I never quite understood, seemed to enjoy picking on me. Most of the time, I simply avoided him.

Until one day.

He tried to muscle me physically. This time I resisted — and somehow ended up pinning him down completely.

Something changed after that encounter.

He never tried to bully me again. Indeed, from then on, he treated me with a great degree of respect. Once he realised that the boy he had been pushing around could stand up for himself, he kowtowed.

Watching Donald Trump deal with China sometimes brings that childhood episode back to mind.

For years, Trump approached China with tariffs, threats and the language of pressure, apparently confident that sufficient economic force would eventually compel Beijing to yield.

But China is not a small boy in a schoolyard.

It possesses enormous industrial capacity, a vast domestic market, formidable technological capabilities and considerable control over strategically indispensable rare earths. When China denied supplies of materials on which advanced industries depend, Washington suddenly discovered that economic coercion is not a one-way street. Very compartmentalised thinking indeed.

Perhaps the lesson of the schoolyard applies even among great powers: intimidation works best when the other fellow does not — or cannot — push back.

China has demonstrated that it can and it will.

I strongly believe Trump has recognised that dealing with Xi Jinping has to be different, but whether he will change his style with others remains to be seen. I suspect, however, that a leopard cannot change its spots. 

The Men Trump Appears to Respect
There are only two other leaders towards whom Trump has repeatedly shown an unusual degree of personal respect: Russia’s Vladimir Putin and North Korea’s Kim Jong Un.

Why?

Perhaps because neither can be intimidated by Trump.

Putin projects macho-ness (machismo?), which Trump lacks but admires. Kim’s entire posture towards the US has effectively been this: Push us and we will nuke you!

Trump appears to understand strength much more readily than restraint.

That brings me to Canada’s Mark Carney.

Carney is brilliant and sophisticated. He is exceptionally well educated. But those qualities do not necessarily carry much weight with someone who conducts international relations as a contest of leverage. Carney initially appeared determined to remain measured and statesmanlike even while relations with Washington deteriorated.

However, after Trump’s rebuff, Carney has more recently begun speaking more firmly and looking increasingly towards Europe and other partners.

Perhaps Carney is learning the schoolyard lesson too: courtesy with Trump cuts little ice. One has to stand up to him, especially when one has considerable leverage too. If he shows Trump his middle finger, I believe Trump will respect him more.

No Agreement Holds Good Under Trump
The world knows this: an agreement with Trump does not represent the end of the matter.

Positions can change. Tariffs can be announced, suspended, modified and reintroduced. An understanding reached today may encounter a completely different political calculation tomorrow.

And around Trump are officials who often reinforce rather than moderate his vacillating economic instincts.

Treasury Secretary Auntie Bessent and Commerce Secretary, hitherto Epstein-pal Howard Lutnick, are par excellence on this front. Trade Representative Jamieson Greer is one who does not have a mind of his own; he will do things at the bidding of Bessent or Lutnick, regardless of what Trump has agreed. A typical clueless attack dog.

Pete Hegseth, the War Secretary, executes whatever Trump demands, again regardless of his understanding — or lack of it — of the situation.

Whatever one thinks of these men, foreign leaders would be foolish to assume that a pleasant conversation with Trump alone settles anything.

They must deal not merely with Trump the man, but with Trumpism as a system.

Xi and Trump
Xi Jinping understands this very well.

His recent visit to Washington was remarkable not because of whatever agreements were — or were not — reached; it was the first time Trump was acknowledging that China was the US’s equal in the world.

Their political systems are radically different, and each has his critics. But purely in terms of presentation, the contrast was striking.

People watching them could draw their own conclusions as to which style appeared more composed.

Even the appearances of the two First Ladies added to the visual contrast of the occasion. One is supremely elegant, the other fashion-conscious.

The greater lesson, however, was not about manners or appearances.

It was about principles and respect, besides mere leverage.

Trump could impose pressure on China. China could impose pressure in return. That’s leverage.

As for principles and respect, it is about one’s preparedness to stand up to the bully.

And that will change everything.

Iran - the need for a fait accompli. 

In international politics, once an adversary has created an irreversible fact on the ground, everybody else eventually has to accept it.

There is a Chinese expression conveying roughly this idea: the rice is already cooked.

A fait accompli.

The US is forever practising double standards. We all know Israel has had nuclear weapons and, under Benjamin Netanyahu, is completely comfortable with the idea of using them. But the US and Israel are determined to deny Iran that capability — without giving Iran and the rest of the Arab world any form of guarantee. Naturally, Iran is anxious to have that capability too.

Given the US stance, Iran should race against the clock to acquire the capability. North Korea should be more than willing to give them a hand.

Once that capability is achieved, you can rest assured that the US will back off or beg you to return to the negotiating table. Period.

Again, I repeat: the US only respects might. And let's face it. Are Iran's ayatollahs more dangerous than Israel's Netanyahu? 

As for the rest of the World…
The broader problem is that most world leaders are politicians first.

They may be clever. They may even be shrewd. But relatively few appear philosophically grounded enough to think beyond the next election, the next opinion poll or the next news cycle.

Many describe their policies as strategic when their time horizons are remarkably short.

Countries caught between China and the US consequently perform an extraordinary balancing act.

Some hedge. Some choose sides. Some try to do both simultaneously.

Japan under Sanae Takaichi and the Philippines under Ferdinand Marcos Jr. have moved towards particularly close security relationships with Washington. They keep forgetting that they are China’s immediate neighbours.

Any Asian country constructing its foreign policy primarily around the assumption of permanent confrontation with an immediate neighbour like China is simply stupid.

In particular, Taiwan
Taiwan’s Lai Ching-te despises his Chinese roots. He thinks all Taiwanese should discard theirs too.

Political systems are not the be-all and end-all; nationhood is. Taiwanese are Chinese and Taiwan is China’s. Trump has shown that he is not their saviour. Blood is thicker than water; it is time to happily return to China’s fold. China has said this many times – it is all prepared to let them have a different political system.

If the Taiwan question were ever settled peacefully, one of the most dangerous potential flashpoints in the Western Pacific would disappear. The economic possibilities for the region would be enormous.

And the silly Europe…
Europe has its own fundamental choices to make.

Europe chose to renege on its undertaking not to expand NATO, and this has resulted in Russia invading Ukraine. And this has destroyed much of the earlier economic relationship between Europe and Russia, including Europe’s access to large quantities of relatively cheap Russian energy, and thus its competitiveness.

Europe now has to decide what kind of continent it wishes to become.

Does it continue indefinitely with the security architecture created after the Second World War and expanded after the Cold War?

Or, over the very long term, does it attempt to create a European security order capable of accommodating both Western Europe and Russia?

Considering Russia as a perpetual military threat is a construct of the US and leaders like Ursula von der Leyen. It is time to contain NATO. Putin has made himself very clear on this point.

Europe must eventually decide what political, economic and security architecture best serves Europeans.

That requires leadership with imagination — not merely bureaucratic management.

As for the rest of the world, you need to elect leaders who genuinely care for you — not the rent-seekers you often see in your world, or pseudo-nationalists who do not understand the concept of Comparative Advantage in Economics!

The Schoolyard Lesson
Which brings me back to that classroom in Muar.

International politics is, many a time, literally a schoolyard. Leaders behave like children, but war between great powers is infinitely more consequential than a scuffle between two schoolboys.

The wisest leader does not go around looking for fights, but neither should he spend his life running away from the bully.

Statesmanship requires judgment, courage and determination — knowing when to compromise, when to stand firm and, most importantly, understanding the difference.

But above all, principles and respect must prevail.

Can Trump learn this?

I doubt it.

End

Anthony Loke’s Resignation — Barking up the Wrong Tree?

 

Anthony Loke has announced that he intends to resign as Malaysia's Transport Minister following the conditional pardon granted to former Prime Minister Najib Tun Razak. At the time of writing, however, he has not formally submitted his resignation letter, and Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim has said that he wants to meet Loke before deciding what to do. Loke is meanwhile proceeding with an official visit to China.

Will Anwar eventually accept his resignation?

To me, that is not really the important question.

The more interesting question is what exactly Loke believes he is taking responsibility for.

The Yang di-Pertuan Agong has granted Najib a conditional pardon allowing him to serve the remainder of his SRC International prison sentence under house arrest until 23 August 2028, subject principally to the payment of the RM50 million fine and compliance with other conditions.

Loke says his offer to resign represents DAP's response to the decision. The other DAP ministers and deputy ministers are remaining in government, ostensibly in the interest of political stability.

So what does one resignation achieve?

There is no suggestion that Anthony Loke himself was responsible for Najib's pardon. Nor was this a Cabinet decision for which collective ministerial responsibility applies in the normal way.

The pardon was considered through the constitutional process under Article 42 of the Federal Constitution, involving the Pardons Board and the Yang di-Pertuan Agong. The Prime Minister and Attorney-General have roles in providing views and legal advice, but the government itself has publicly stated that the ultimate decision rested with the King.

This is where the issue becomes more complicated than some of the political rhetoric suggests.

Malaysia inherited much of the Westminster constitutional tradition, under which a constitutional monarch normally acts on advice. But the royal pardoning power cannot simply be equated with an ordinary Cabinet decision. Article 42 establishes its own machinery. Malaysian constitutional lawyers have debated the precise extent to which the Ruler is bound by advice in exercising this power, while previous court decisions have treated the substance of the pardoning decision as largely beyond judicial review.

That does not mean Malaysians cannot discuss or criticise the decision. Of course they can. Respect for the constitutional power of the King is quite compatible with public debate over its consequences.

Anwar himself has now disclosed that he raised concerns during the process. He says he reminded those involved of Najib's continuing court cases, the size of the fine, and the possible effect of any pardon on public confidence in the justice system and Malaysia's international reputation. He has also denied that he "paved the way" for Najib's pardon.

If that account is correct, then what exactly is Loke protesting against?

If he is protesting against the constitutional decision itself, resigning as Transport Minister does not alter that decision.

If, on the other hand, his real dissatisfaction is with the government's inability to maintain the uncompromising anti-corruption position traditionally associated with DAP, then the argument should be made openly on that ground.

There is also a larger problem confronting DAP which, in my view, is more important than whether Anthony Loke remains Minister of Transport.

The party has suffered a series of serious electoral setbacks.

In the November 2025 Sabah state election, DAP lost all eight seats it contested, including six seats it had previously held. Loke himself accepted responsibility for that result.

In Johor in July 2026, DAP won six seats while Pakatan Harapan as a whole secured only eight of the state's 56 seats; BN won 48.

Then, in the August 2026 Negeri Sembilan state election, Loke personally lost the Chennah seat that he had held since 2013 and subsequently resigned as state DAP chairman.

These results do not necessarily prove that DAP is in irreversible decline. State elections have their own local dynamics and should not automatically be extrapolated nationwide. But they surely provide enough evidence for DAP to ask some uncomfortable questions about itself.

One is whether its traditional support base still regards the party with the same loyalty that it once did. Analysts examining the recent elections have pointed not merely to difficulties attracting Malay voters but also to growing dissatisfaction among sections of DAP's traditional Chinese and urban electorate.

Another question is whether dramatic gestures such as a ministerial resignation address that deeper problem.

Corruption is certainly one of the issues.

The principle should be straightforward: political status ought not to determine whether wrongdoing is investigated, prosecuted and punished. But societies also differ considerably in their approaches to punishment and clemency.

China provides an extreme contrast. Under Chinese criminal law, exceptionally serious corruption can attract life imprisonment or even the death penalty, and confiscation of the offender's property is available. Chinese law nevertheless specifically protects property that legitimately belongs to family members.

Malaysia has chosen a very different constitutional tradition, one that includes executive clemency.

The politically important question therefore may not be whether Najib should have been treated as China would have treated a senior official convicted of comparable offences. It is how Malaysians themselves view punishment, rehabilitation, proportionality and the special constitutional power of mercy.

Najib plainly retains considerable political sympathy among sections of the Malay electorate and within UMNO. That political reality exists whether DAP likes it or not. A party aspiring to national relevance therefore has to understand why different groups of Malaysians can look at the same case and reach very different emotional and political conclusions.

That, to me, is DAP's much bigger problem.

It has always described itself as a Malaysian rather than a communal party. Yet it continues to face the difficulty of broadening its appeal beyond its traditional urban and predominantly Chinese electoral base. Political analysts have repeatedly identified expanding Malay participation and acceptance as one of the party's longer-term challenges.

Malaysia may have progressed considerably since the communal politics of the 1950s and 1960s, but ethnicity and religion remain powerful forces in electoral politics. Pretending otherwise will not make them disappear.

This is where the Sarawak experience is worth studying — although Sarawak's political circumstances are certainly different from those of Peninsular Malaysia.

Under Abang Johari, Gabungan Parti Sarawak has tried to construct its politics principally around Sarawak identity, development and state interests while accommodating Malay, Dayak and Chinese communities within the same political framework. Abang Johari himself has repeatedly argued that politics should move away from race and religion towards competence, development and fairness across communities.

One need not pretend that the "Sarawak model" can simply be transplanted to Kuala Lumpur. It cannot.

But there may nevertheless be something for DAP to reflect upon.

Anthony Loke's resignation may make a statement. It may satisfy some members and supporters who believe DAP had to demonstrate its unhappiness over Najib's conditional pardon.

But after the statement has been made, the larger questions remain.

Why has DAP lost ground in several recent elections? Why are some of its traditional supporters disillusioned? Why has it found it so difficult to broaden its Malay base despite decades in Malaysian politics? And how does it transform itself from a party that is constitutionally multiracial into one that is also perceived as genuinely multiracial by a much broader cross-section of Malaysians?

Those questions will not disappear whether Anthony Loke remains Minister of Transport or resigns.

Perhaps they deserve rather more attention than the resignation itself.

End.

Remember Lai Teck?

 

A couple of days ago, I visited Gerakbudaya in Section 11, Petaling Jaya, to discuss my new book with Janice Cheong. As usual, before leaving, I took a look at its collection.

One title attracted my attention: New Perspectives on the Japanese Occupation in Malaya and Singapore 1941–1945. It is not new; it was first published in 2008. Perspectives on the war from the Japanese side are scarce for obvious reasons—the Japanese military systematically destroyed war-related documents after their surrender. This book sets out precisely to uncover some of that perspective; all seven contributors are leading academics in Japan, six of them Japanese.

I do not propose to review the book here. Suffice it to say that readers may be surprised by what they find. We are so used to reading material from our local sources and taking great pride in Chinese resistance to the Japanese invaders. But there is a great deal we really do not know about the roles played by the other communities during the Occupation. I encourage readers to read the book and find out for themselves.

What prompts me to write this article is a name that keeps coming up in a chapter entitled “Leaders of the Malayan Communist Party During the Anti-Japanese War”.

The name is Lai Teck.

Many older Malaysian Chinese would remember this name. But I doubt many younger Chinese would.

Lai Teck, to me, should be 賴德; however, this appears not to be correct. Apparently, it is 萊特—the Chinese rendering of an English alias, “Wright”. This is said to be supported by Chin Peng’s account of him. Be that as it may, another Chinese name associated with him was Huang Shao-dong 黃紹東.

Lai Teck was the Qin Hui 秦檜 – the Southern Song chancellor traditionally condemned for his role in the persecution and execution of the general Yue Fei 岳飛 – of his day.

Lai Teck, or Lai Tek or Loi Teck, was one of the most extraordinary infiltrators in the history of the Malayan Communist Party (MCP or CPM - Communist Party of Malaya).

He was probably Vietnamese, possibly of mixed Sino-Vietnamese background, and appears to have used several names. Historians have identified him variously as Phạm Văn Đắc or Hoang A Nhac. Before coming to Malaya, he is believed to have worked for French intelligence in Indochina. Historian Leon Comber concluded that he was later recruited by the British Special Branch in Singapore to penetrate the MCP. Astonishingly, he rose steadily through the party and became its Secretary-General in 1939, remaining in that position until 1947.

His most notorious period came after the Japanese conquest of Malaya and Singapore in 1942. Lai Teck was arrested by the Japanese Kempeitai. Instead of being executed – as many communists were – he was released and began supplying the Japanese with information about his own comrades. In that sense, he had effectively become an agent successively of the French, British and Japanese intelligence services.

The worst episode was the Batu Caves Incident of 1 September 1942. Lai Teck was involved in arranging a secret gathering of senior MCP and Malayan People’s Anti-Japanese Army figures near Batu Caves. He himself failed to appear, later explaining that his car had broken down. Japanese forces descended on the meeting and killed a substantial portion of the MCP’s senior wartime leadership. Sources differ over the precise casualty total, but the episode was a devastating blow to the party.

What makes the story even more remarkable is that the MCP did not discover his treachery during the war. Lai Teck continued to head the organisation throughout the Japanese Occupation. He was therefore simultaneously the leader of an organisation whose armed wing, the MPAJA, was fighting Japan and an informer supplying intelligence to the Japanese security apparatus.

There is another historically important aspect. After Japan surrendered in August 1945, some within the MCP wanted to take advantage of the temporary power vacuum before British rule was fully restored. Lai Teck instead urged a comparatively cautious course: cooperation with the returning British, disbandment of the MPAJA, and pursuit of political and labour activity through legal organisations. Historians have consequently debated how much of this policy reflected genuine communist strategy and how much reflected Lai Teck’s relationship with British intelligence. What is clear is that the MCP followed his relatively moderate post-war line until suspicions about him became overwhelming.

Hara Fujio, the author of this chapter in the book, adds considerable detail to the picture. He painstakingly traces Lai Teck’s steps and lists those betrayed by him over the period. Some 22 high-ranking cadres were executed as a result of his betrayal. Many were still in their twenties when they were hanged by the Japanese.

By 1946–47, party members had begun assembling evidence against him. A Central Committee meeting was arranged for March 1947, at which he was expected to answer the accusations. He never appeared. Instead, he fled – reportedly taking a large proportion of the party’s funds with him – first moving through Singapore and Hong Kong and eventually reaching Thailand.

This is where Chin Peng enters the story in a decisive way. Chin Peng participated in the investigation and subsequently succeeded Lai Teck as Secretary-General. According to Chin Peng’s later account, he contacted communist organisations in Hong Kong and Thailand to help locate the fugitive. Lai Teck was eventually found in Bangkok in 1947.

Chin Peng was later told that three Thai communists attempting to seize him killed him during the struggle – apparently by suffocation or strangulation – and disposed of his body in a sack in the Menam, or Chao Phraya, River. Because this account ultimately came through Chin Peng and his contacts rather than an official death record, the precise circumstances should be treated as reported rather than absolutely established.

One particularly interesting point is that Lai Teck’s betrayal affected Malayan history well beyond the deaths he directly caused. The destruction of much of the older MCP leadership helped bring younger figures such as Chin Peng to prominence. Lai Teck’s exposure in 1947 also profoundly discredited the cautious strategy he had imposed after the war. Within about a year, the MCP entered the armed conflict that became the Malayan Emergency in 1948.

His life has almost the structure of a spy novel: a probable French agent becomes a British infiltrator, rises to the very top of the organisation he was supposed to spy on, changes sides when captured by the Japanese, betrays dozens of his comrades, survives the war still leading the party, reportedly absconds with party funds when finally exposed, and ends up being hunted down by fellow communists in Bangkok.

Lai Teck lived under numerous identities and deliberately concealed his background.

Accounts of the MCP’s investigation after his disappearance uncovered not only his business dealings but also his relationships with women. He reportedly maintained a Vietnamese wife in a bungalow near the beach at Katong, as well as two mistresses in Singapore—one Vietnamese and one Cantonese. The Vietnamese woman reportedly ran a bar around Hill Street. Another account refers to a woman described as his wife in Malaya, an old schoolfriend of MCP leader Yeung Kuo, who had just given birth to Lai Teck’s child when his betrayal was revealed to her.

That is particularly striking because Lai Teck was outwardly the austere Secretary-General of an underground communist movement. By early 1947, fellow MCP leaders were already questioning not only how he ran the party but also “his own lifestyle.”

One contemporary physical description comes from an MCP cadre who knew him personally from 1937. He remembered Lai Teck as small and short, no more than about 5 ft 6 in, with a thin, dark face, tightly closed lips and notably sharp eyes. His further description of Lai Teck as looking like a treacherous villain from Chinese opera was clearly a retrospective and highly hostile personal judgement rather than an objective description.

Before his MCP days…
For years, the standard story—followed by Leon Comber and many later writers—was that Lai Teck was born around 1903. He joined the Vietnamese communist movement when young, was arrested around 1925, and then agreed to inform for the French.

However, historian Marc H. Opper, drawing on Chinese, Vietnamese, Russian, French and other sources, gives a much more precise—and somewhat different—reconstruction. He identifies Lai Teck as Trương Phước Đạt — 張福達, born in Phan Rang, Annam, in 1909.

According to Opper, he joined Thanh Niên, the Vietnamese revolutionary youth organisation associated with Hồ Chí Minh, in 1929. By March 1930, he had become a member of the Saigon City Provisional Executive Committee of the Indochinese Communist Party. This suggests that whatever happened later, he began as a fairly serious young communist activist rather than merely an opportunist who wandered into the movement.

He was arrested in November 1930 and subsequently fled to Hong Kong. There he actually met Hồ Chí Minh, who intended to send him to Moscow for further political training. On his way to the Soviet Union, however, he was arrested at Suifenhe on the Sino-Soviet frontier in March 1931. He remained detained until early 1932. He was arrested again in Shanghai in April 1933 and eventually deported back to French Indochina.

It was apparently after that deportation, rather than in 1925 as the older story has it, that the French Sûreté Générale recruited him. Opper says the French offered to spare him imprisonment if he would become their agent inside the communist movement. By this point, he had also apparently become disillusioned with communism. He agreed—but because he was well known among Saigon communists, his role as an informer was soon exposed.

The French then had little further use for him. He was passed to the British security apparatus, and by late 1934 he had entered the MCP claiming to be a Comintern representative. His genuine knowledge of Marxist-Leninist theory made the cover particularly convincing. By 1939, he had worked his way up to the position of MCP Secretary-General.

So, the remarkable thing is that he was not simply an ignorant police plant pretending to be a communist. He apparently possessed considerable theoretical knowledge, had actually participated in Vietnamese revolutionary circles, had met Hồ Chí Minh, and had been selected for training in Moscow. That background made his subsequent infiltration of the MCP much more credible.

Top of Form

Conclusion
Many of us lost loved ones during this tragic period, and the scars left by the Japanese Occupation have not entirely disappeared even after so many decades. We rightly remember those who resisted, suffered and died, and we should continue to honour the great martyrs of that generation.

But remembrance should also go hand in hand with a willingness to understand history in its totality. The story of Lai Teck reminds us that history is rarely as simple as heroes on one side and villains on the other. There were acts of extraordinary courage, but also betrayal, collaboration, deception and political intrigue. Nor was the experience of the Occupation confined to any one community.

For many of us, much of what we know has come from accounts written from our own local or communal perspectives. They are important, but they cannot be the whole story. Other sources — Japanese, British, Chinese, Vietnamese and others — can sometimes reveal details, perspectives and uncomfortable truths that we may never have encountered before.

History should not be about choosing only the version that makes us feel good. The more sources we are prepared to examine, the closer we may come to understanding what actually happened.

End

 

P.S. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the work of my good friend and mentor, Dr Stephen Leong, is also widely quoted in the book.