Philippines' President Ferdinand "Bongbong" Marcos Jr., Singapore's Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong, Thailand's Permanent Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Sarun Charoensuwan, Vietnam's Prime Minister Pham Minh Chinh, Indonesian President Joko Widodo, Laos' Prime Minister Sonexay Siphandone, Brunei's Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah, Cambodia's Prime Minister Hun Manet, Malaysian Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim, and East Timor's Prime Minister Xanana Gusmao hold hands for a family photo before the start of the retreat session at the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) Summit in Jakarta, Indonesia.
Credit: Reuters File Photo
By Karishma Vaswani
Politics is increasingly returning to being a family business in Southeast Asia, despite its large and vibrant democracies. It’s a worrying trend. Power is at risk of being concentrated in the hands of an exclusive club of entrenched clans. That will disproportionately disadvantage the region’s dynamic youth who are getting more frustrated with nepotism.
While Southeast Asia is not an isolated case — political dynasties are prevalent in the West (think Bushes and Trudeaus, among others) — the difference is just how many of the familiar names are making a comeback, since unrest and financial crisis in recent decades upended the Old Order in many places.
Take the Philippines, where clans have controlled money and wielded influence dating back to colonial times. Their privilege allowed them to buy land in the post-independence era, after Manila broke free of US colonial rule in 1946. This enriched and propelled them further up the economic ladder. Wealth proved useful in their attempts to succeed in politics.
Six of the country’s last nine presidents have belonged to the Macapagal, Marcos and Aquino families. The current president, Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr., is the son of the former autocrat Ferdinand Marcos. During a reporting trip to Manila for the 2022 election, I was struck by the number of ordinary Filipinos who had conveniently forgotten the corruption and avarice of his regime, toppled amid street protests in 1986 after two decades in power. Instead, they chose to believe in a social media narrative that the younger Marcos would bring back a perceived golden era of prosperity and stability.
Tapping into family lore helps with this generation’s allure for voters. The child of a formidable political force has been elevated in Thailand, too. The former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra’s 38-year-old daughter, Paetongtarn, was appointed earlier this month to his old job (which he lost in a coup in 2006). Her aunt and Thaksin’s sister, Yingluck, previously served in the role before being removed by the Constitutional Court in 2014.
Political dynasties aren’t just confined to raucous democratic systems like the Philippines. In Cambodia, it has been a year since strongman Hun Sen handed over power to his son, Hun Manet, after almost four decades as leader. (For all intents and purposes, he is still running things behind the scenes as president of the ruling Cambodian People’s Party and a lawmaker.)
And then there’s Indonesia, Southeast Asia’s largest country and economy. Last week, widespread protests suspended parliamentary moves to potentially grant the outgoing president’s son an easier path to political power. The sprawling archipelago had until recently been held up as a model for democracy in a region where corruption and nepotism — which never really went away — seem to be making an increasingly brazen comeback.
When Joko Widodo was first elected in 2014, he was viewed as a breath of fresh air. With a humble demeanor and origins as a furniture maker from a provincial city, he came from outside the usual ranks of generals and elites that have run the country.
But Jokowi, as he is popularly known, has used his second term to ensure that his legacy lasts beyond his departure from office in two months. “Jokowi has built a coalition with so many parties in parliament that he is getting to the point where he cannot be challenged, because of the power base he has created,” Elisabeth Kramer, a senior lecturer in the School of Social Sciences at the University of New South Wales, told me. “This allows him, and by extension his family, to protect their privilege and exclusivity, to ensure that only a certain club of people actually run for election and win.”
Indonesians are used to strong leaders with dynastic ambitions. The archetype was Suharto, whose 32-year dictatorship ended amid violent protests during the Asian Financial Crisis in 1998. Among grievances was how the former general turned a blind eye to the growing greed of his children, and how they used their position as his progeny to exploit the resource-rich nation’s economy, at the expense of ordinary people struggling to make ends meet.
Some Indonesians see parallels. A popular news magazine recreated a cover from the Suharto era, only this time with Jokowi’s face on it — calling him “Raja Jawa” — the King of Java. The not-so-subtle insinuation is that Jokowi and his family are out of touch with everyday Indonesians, living a lavish lifestyle. This is a far cry from the man-of-the-people image he so carefully cultivated when he was first elected.
For now, at least, Indonesian protesters have managed to keep their democracy safe. The outgoing president and others in Southeast Asia with dynastic ambitions would be wise to look at Sheikh Hasina. The daughter of Bangladesh’s founding father was forced to make a hasty and humiliating exit earlier this month, after 20 years of on-and-off rule that became increasingly autocratic, and dismissive of human rights.
In the past, kings and queens would fight wars to ensure their children would inherit the throne. But they were not elected leaders, and their subjects had no choice but to put up with them. That is not the case in democracies today. Eventually, the people will make sure their voices are heard. Leaders would be wise to leave their families where they belong: At home.