Category Archives: China

by | 28 August 2026 · 6:15 am

When Java Was Buddhist and Hindu

From Empire of the Winds: The Global Role of Asia’s Great Archipelago, by Philip Bowring (I.B. Tauris, 2018), Kindle pp. 117-119:

Srivijayan dominance of Nusantaria was for a long time bolstered by cooperation with fellow Buddhists in central Java, the Sailendra dynasty. Indeed, Srivijaya’s dominance attained its greatest geographic reach following the linking of Sailendra power to Srivijaya’s through a dynastic alliance. The Sailendra’s economic contribution to the alliance was greatly aided by Java’s ready access to the Spice Islands, which added to its agricultural wealth, and by its relatively large population. The Sanskrit name ‘Sailendra’ means ‘Lord of the Mountain’, a reference to the towering volcanoes such as Mount Merapi [Gunung Merapi ‘Fire Mountain’], which overlooks the great Buddhist shrine of Borobudur which they built. Although their power base was in Java, the Sailendras were Malays from Sumatra. This explains the use of old Malay, not Sanskrit or Javanese, for some of their inscriptions.

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Java, known as Yavadipa, had originally been a centre of Hinduism which reached its peak in the seventh and early eighth centuries. Its spiritual base was the Dieng plateau, literally ‘Mountain of the Gods’ in Sanskrit. The plateau is reached from the plain through a series of rich valleys and then by a narrow mountain passageway to the 2,000-metre high caldera of an extinct volcano, which still has sulphurous springs. Here there were sacred bathing sites and the centre of a cult of Shiva, the god of fertility. It was once the site of some 400 temples of which only eight survive, the oldest stone structures on Java.

The Dieng plateau’s best recorded patron was the early eighth century ruler Sanjaya, who erected a sacred lingam in praise of Shiva, invoking the spirit of his ancestors and noting how in learning and harmonious government he ‘had his feet high above the other kings of good family’. He was titled both a Ratu – the Austronesian noble title found from Fiji to the [Malay] peninsula – and a Maharaja, the Indian king of kings.

The history of the relationship between the Sailendras and Javanese Sanjayas is unclear, but at some point they were joined by marriage alliances in which the Sailendras were dominant; however, despite their Buddhism the Shiva worship of the Sanjayas lived on. Indeed, loyalty to the Sailendras was more important than choosing between Shiva and Buddha.

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The Sailendras also extended their power outwards. Using Srivijayan seapower they conquered Indrapura, the leading Khmer city, and in 802 installed the Khmer prince Jayavarman II as ruler. (He later rejected fealty to the Sailendras and moved his capital inland to Hariharalaya, south of Siem Reap. He reigned for nearly 50 years and initiated what became the Angkor dynasty.)

The Sailendras were also sometimes in conflict with the Cham, who competed for some of Srivijaya’s China trade. The Cham were not only closest to the great China market, they also had sea links to Borneo and the Philippine islands, from which they could source some of the forest products in demand in China. An eighth century Vietnamese account describes people from Java and Sumatra raiding as far north as Tonkin. A Cham account in Sanskrit of the same era, found at Nha Trang, described how in 774 ‘men living on food more horrible than cadavers, completely black and gaunt, dreadful and evil as death, came in ships’ and burned a temple and stole the lingam before being beaten off by Satyavarman. These might have been orang laut engaged in freelance raiding or have been encouraged by Srivijaya because, only a few years later, in 787, ‘the armies of Java’ came and destroyed another temple. More generally, however, the era saw the strengthening of its trading and settlement posts including Manila bay and Sulawesi.

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by | 27 August 2026 · 6:29 am

Srivijaya Thalassocracy

From Empire of the Winds: The Global Role of Asia’s Great Archipelago, by Philip Bowring (I.B. Tauris, 2018), Kindle pp. 106-110:

No empire in historical times has disappeared as completely as Srivijaya. Yet this vast Nusantarian enterprise thrived for almost a thousand years, feeding on and sometimes dominating seaborne trade between China and the archipelago on the one hand and India and beyond on the other. Its importance was noted many times in Chinese annals, yet, unlike other vanished empires, it left barely a physical trace. Its existence was almost unknown to modern historians until the 1930s, when Georges Coedès defined it by reference to Chinese records of a place named Sanfoqi and some inscriptions written in Old Malay. Later, aerial photography identified a system of irrigation canals and other works which once supported a large population. Archaeologists unearthed Buddhist statues, Chinese ceramics and other items so that it is now possible to identify Palembang on the banks of the Musi River in south-east Sumatra as its principal city.

This may seem an unlikely spot for a capital, some distance from the sea and surrounded by flat but not very fertile land, better for root crops than for rice. The same conditions apply to a similar old settlement, Jambi, known also as Melayu, farther north on the Batang Hari River. This was at one time a rival of Srivijaya and later its capital. Jambi at least still boasts the remains of a Buddhist temple from the seventh or eighth centuries; Palembang has no such evidence of its former glory.

The lack of physical imprint has several causes. First, it was what is called a thalassocracy – an empire built on control of trade not of land. The lack of stone or brick evidence of Palembang’s greatness is because buildings on land, including fortifications, were all of wood. There was no nearby supply of stone. Records were written on palm leaves which perished long ago. Most people lived on rafts. There was a practical reason for this: floods were not uncommon in the rainy season and spring tides on the Musi River were up to 4.5 metres. Nothing much changed over the centuries. Even in 1820 a European visitor noted that only the rich lived on dry land in houses with tiled roofs. While the sultan and some senior persons lived on separate islands, all trade and transport took place on the river.

So why Palembang? Its location seems scarcely ideal: it was 120 kilometres upriver, mangrove swamps occupied most of the area down to the sea and its land was incapable of supporting a large population. However, its position on a river which was navigable far inland gave access to the jungle products and timber for ships as well as more precious items from the interior including gold and foodstuffs from the fertile Sumatran highlands. The coastal lands were of marsh and mangrove. Terra firma began at Palembang. There was plenty of space where vessels could anchor and stores be unloaded. The river is wide, deep, tidal for a long distance and its mouth lies close both to the southern entrance to the Melaka strait and to the Sunda strait between Sumatra and Java, thus giving access to the South China Sea and the Indian Ocean. It is well south of the typhoon belt and, being almost on the equator, has calm seas and is an ideal location to wait for the change of monsoon winds from south-west to north-east. Also, the mangrove swamps at the mouth of the Musi and its many inlets meant the city could easily be defended.

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While there appears to have been an increasing dependence on the growing China trade, reports from I-Tsing and other records show the high level of development of Palembang, the size of its forces and the respect of the Chinese for its Buddhist monks and practices. This was no petty state kowtowing to China but one seeking trade preferences from an equal. Correspondingly, Chinese sought enlightenment from the west (India and Sri Lanka) via Sumatra. The Palembang inscriptions also show that, although the kingship systems, the rituals and the religion were of Indian origin and it was a place where Chinese could study Sanskrit, the official written language was not Sanskrit but Malay. Also, for its inhabitants, commerce, not religion, was its mainspring. Srivijaya’s rise to dominance was also reflected in a change of the Chinese name for it. Prior to 903 it was known as ‘Shih-li-fo-shi’, a phonetic translation, or just ‘Fo Shi’, but it then became ‘Sanfoqi’, the san suggesting that Foqi (Vijaya) had three centres: probably Palembang, Jambi and Kedah, or one of the Java ports.

With its small population and shortage of agricultural land, Srivijaya’s first achievement was its superior organization of the people of the region, the orang laut (‘sea people’). They had centuries of seafaring behind them and could act as pilots or pirates as opportunity offered. By bringing them under its umbrella, Srivijaya could reduce piracy by allowing the orang laut a share of the spoils of war and thereby encourage trade. Trade brought merchants, money, advanced ideas from India and the wherewithal to buy from elsewhere the food needed to sustain the urban settlements. Through better marshalling of the talents of the local sailors and boatbuilders, Srivijaya was able to conquer Melayu. The interior could supply the forest products and gold which Srivijaya needed for trade. In turn, the population of the interior provided a ready market for Srivijaya’s goods. The interior also supplemented Srivijaya’s manpower so that King Jayanasa could field an army several thousand strong as well as a large naval force.

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by | 25 August 2026 · 5:29 am

Indianization of Nusantaria

From Empire of the Winds: The Global Role of Asia’s Great Archipelago, by Philip Bowring (I.B. Tauris, 2018), Kindle pp. 92-93:

Local rulers imported Indian practices as a means of strengthening their own power. They used kingship systems allied to priests and religious practices to formalize power structures, and founded dynasties from what had been often transient political entities reliant on the strength of individuals. There was no sudden transition, and it was probably not until around 400 CE that Indian cultural influence was well advanced beyond the ports, and states were using an Indian calendar and adding Indian words to local vocabulary. Indian cultural and political ideas also spread gradually up the Mekong through the Tonle Sap lake to much of modern Cambodia and Thailand’s Chao Phraya valley. Indian influence was stronger on the peninsula because of the greater presence of Indian merchants who conducted the westward trade, while those from Nusantaria took charge from there eastward. By about 300 CE Indian cultural influence reached the Vietnam coast, where the Cham states emerged as an Indianized evolution of the Sa Huynh culture.

For the whole of the first millennium CE Indian cultural and economic influence on the maritime zone, as on most of mainland South East Asia, was predominant. China itself had little direct impact. Given the later regional role of China and particularly of the Chinese diaspora, this may seem puzzling. The reasons included China’s late development of ocean-going vessels; the complexity of its writing system; the possible lack of portability of the Confucian system compared with Hindu and Buddhist teachings; the northern, landward orientation of Chinese strategic thinking; and the lack of experience with foreign trade compared in particular with the merchants of coastal India and the sailors of Nusantaria. Transport of Chinese goods was a catalyst for trade, but not by the Chinese.

Quite how far Indians themselves were the leading force in Indianization is a matter for conjecture. Writing in the mid-20th century, Indian historian R.C. Majumdar argued that the region was effectively colonized by a large number of Indians – Brahmans, merchants and others who established ruling groups throughout the region, supplanting indigenous leaders and bringing a complete culture and kingship system to the backward Austronesian and Khmer entities. French historian of the region Georges Coedès proposed a milder version of the Majumdar thesis, suggesting Brahmans were prime movers whether by imposing their rule, allying with local rulers for mutual benefit or marrying into the local elite.

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The shortage of evidence leads history books to telescope time when, in reality, the process of Indianization was a gradual one over several hundred years and from both north and south India. Early Indian influence appears mainly to have come from northern India via Bengal. But links with the Tamil south, and with Buddhist Sri Lanka grew in importance. There is evidence from Tamil sources of extensive trade with Java as early as the second century CE. A Tamil inscription from the third century CE has also been found in Thailand, which indicates that a Tamil merchant had settled there. This was a time when many Tamils, like the Sinhalese, followed Buddhism. The Pallawa script of southern India became the basis of many others, including Lao, Khmer, Javanese and Balinese. Its rounded form is said to be especially suited to palm leaves, the main writing material used in India and most of South East Asia until around the seventeenth century CE.

Indian culture may have come later to Java than to the peninsula and mainland, with Hindu beliefs preceding Buddhist teaching. Brahmanism was introduced first but then Buddhism. The slow spread of Buddhism was indicated by a report from the fifth century CE by Chinese Buddhist pilgrim Fa Xian, who found that on Yeh Po Ti (Java): ‘various forms of error and Brahmanism are flourishing while the faith of Buddha is not worth speaking of.’

 

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by | 21 August 2026 · 7:08 am

Naming ‘Maritime Southeast Asia’

From Empire of the Winds: The Global Role of Asia’s Great Archipelago, by Philip Bowring (I.B. Tauris, 2018), Kindle pp. 29-31:

This region is often referred to as ‘maritime South East Asia’, with the more general term ‘South East Asia’ dating only to World War II. Although Japan used the term ‘Tonan Ajiya’ (‘South East Asia’ [lit. ‘East South Asia’]) from the late nineteenth century, in European languages its use did not become widespread until the 1950s, bringing together mainland states between China and India with the islands. The formation of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) in 1967 added to the notion that mainland and maritime were one, yet in practice they have divergent interests and religion, now as in the past.

Europeans had long termed the islands the ‘Indian archipelago’ or ‘Insulindia’. Alternatively they referred to them as the ‘Malay archipelago’, neither term distinguishing between the Indonesian and Philippine island groups. The area corresponded roughly to ‘Nusantara’, a name dating to the thirteenth century and the Java-based Majapahit empire. Nusa is a Sanskrit-derived word meaning ‘island’.

‘Nusantara’ defined the region of islands and coasts over which Majapahit rule, tribute or mercantile influence extended. It covered most of what is now Indonesia, part of the Philippine archipelago, the central Vietnam coast and the Malay peninsula. Beyond its Javanese heart it did not rule directly but held sway over the many small mercantile states of the region. ‘Nusantara’ in Malay today has a narrower meaning: ‘archipelago’, specifically the Indonesian archipelago. So this book uses ‘Nusantaria’ to denote a broader zone, the single maritime region between the northern entrance to the Melaka and Luzon straits, and the Banda islands in the extreme east of the archipelago. While predominantly describing the wider Malay world, and touching too on Taiwan, Madagascar and the Marianas, Nusantaria links to the coastal Thai, Chinese, Tamil and other players in the history of the exchange of goods, people and ideas both within the region and with peoples to the west and north-east. It corresponds also to the use by the distinguished archaeologist of South East Asia, Wilhelm Solheim, of the term ‘Nusantao’ to define the mostly Austronesian-speaking peoples of the ancient trading networks of the islands and coasts (tao means people in many Austronesian languages).

The maritime zone is now mostly associated with its largest component, the South China Sea. But even that is a misnomer. The Chinese themselves used the term ‘Nanhai’ or ‘Nanyang’ (‘South Sea’ or ‘Southern Ocean’) for seas that included the South China Sea but could also refer to southern seas generally. Likewise, the Vietnamese used geographical location, calling it the ‘East Sea’ as it lay to their east. More recently and in response to Chinese claims to almost the whole sea, the Philippines has begun to refer to at least its adjacent water as the ‘West Philippine Sea’. The term ‘Philippine Sea’ had been used by early seventeenth-century European mapmakers. Indonesia refers to its portion as the Natuna Sea, after the island group of that name off the Borneo coast. This includes its archipelagic seas north of the islands, which fall within China’s extravagant claims to sea extending 1,600 kilometres from its mainland.

The name ‘South China Sea’ is a European invention of relatively recent date. When the Portuguese first got there in the sixteenth century they called it the ‘Cham Sea’, after the mercantile state which had long existed on the coast of what is now central Vietnam. Arabs at one time called the southern part of it the ‘Malay Sea’ or the ‘Spice Sea’ because it was close to the Spice Islands.5 The more northern part was known as the ‘Sanf Sea’, a reference to Champa.6 Others called it the ‘Luzon Sea’ after the main island of today’s Philippines. Westerners long referred to these seas as part of the Indian Seas. The name ‘Indonesia’ (‘Indian islands’) reflects this. ‘China Sea’ only came into western use around 1800. ‘South’ was added in the early twentieth century.

A few hundred years ago, before the territorial expansion of China to Taiwan and southwards by Vietnam, Nusantaria was almost entirely Malay – to use the term ‘Malay’ in its broad cultural and linguistic sense. Even today these generic Malays of the Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia and Brunei own most of its coastline. They are peoples who have traded with and occasionally paid tribute to China, and have absorbed Chinese immigration but, at least until very recently, have been more influenced by ideas from India, the Arab and Persian worlds and Europe than by China.

To the Chinese, the whole region was the ‘Nanyang’, meaning ‘Southern Sea’, a region inhabited by darker-skinned people and thus often seen as inferior in a system that associated skin tone with social status. For many Indians it was an overseas extension of their Hindu-Buddhist culture. Even now the marks left by Indian religion, writing and art are more evident than those of China. As for the peoples who actually lived in this region, they mostly saw it in terms of individual entities, of spheres of political influence, religion and trade, which had long been linked through dynasties and rivalries.

The maritime zone now comprises two modern archipelagic states: all of the Philippines and most of Indonesia, Brunei and the Malaysian states of Sabah and Sarawak on Borneo. To these island entities must be added the Malay peninsula, where Malays remain in charge, and, until quite recently, much of coastal Vietnam. These last two share similarities to the island states because their peoples are wedged between forest and water and so traditionally looked seaward.

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by | 20 August 2026 · 4:17 pm

Empire of the Winds Introduction

From Empire of the Winds: The Global Role of Asia’s Great Archipelago, by Philip Bowring (I.B. Tauris, 2018), Kindle pp. 27-29:

In 1498 the crew of the ships of Portuguese navigator Vasco da Gama became the first people known to sail between Europe and India, landing at Calicut on the south-west coast of India. By 1512, the long arm of Portuguese merchant adventurism had reached almost 5,000 kilometres further, to its ultimate eastern destination, the Banda archipelago, most distant of the fabled Spice Islands.

But this historically crucial surge of European expansion was a minor navigational achievement compared with those of the maritime peoples whose lives the Portuguese were now disrupting. Some 1,500 years earlier sailors from this region had pioneered voyages which linked the Spice Islands to India and China and on to the coasts of Arabia and Africa. These were the pioneers who settled Madagascar, traded along the African coast and may well have sailed around the Cape of Good Hope and north as far as the Gulf of Guinea.

By 500 CE, and probably earlier, the sea, not the more famous overland Silk Road, was the pre-eminent mode of east–west trade. The sea was unquestionably hazardous, but it was easier and sometimes quicker to move 50 tonnes of goods on a ship compared with having to lead camels and pack animals over mountains and deserts, fending off robber bands, and across political boundaries where rulers were eager to extract tolls. According to Roman estimates it was 27 times more expensive to transport goods by land rather than water. Similar estimates were made for eighteenth-century Europe.

It was these sailors who guided the Portuguese from Melaka to the Bandas. That was a journey through the heart of a zone which rivals the Mediterranean as a locus of global trade and cultural interaction. This region comprises the almost countless islands and coastlines of the interlinked South China, Java, Sulu, Sulawesi and Banda seas and is joined to the Indian and Pacific oceans by the straits of Melaka, Sunda, Lombok, Makassar and Luzon. Its land is primarily composed of the islands of the vast Malay archipelago but includes the Malay peninsula and touches modern Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam, as well as southern coastal China. India is a hop away across the Andaman Sea and Bay of Bengal.

This is a story of seafaring, of the drivers of global commerce, of cultural interchange and of the rise and fall of states and political systems. It is the story of a sea-girt region that remains predominantly Austronesian-Malay by language and original culture but has been subject to successive waves of influence from India, Islam, the west and China. It is the story of a sea which enabled ancient Rome to know cloves and camphor, of sailboats and of navigators who linked Maluku to the Bab el Mandeb and the coast of Africa and settled Madagascar. While ships and goods moved westward other ships and merchants moved eastward, bringing Indian and Islamic cultures to east Asia. Trade in spices was also the spur to Europe’s involvement in the region, which began more than 500 years ago. Nusantaria lost its leadership in boatbuilding and navigation, but to this day remains at the heart of global commerce, supplying some 40 per cent of merchant marine crews.

Despite its illustrious past, the region’s sense of identity is not what it was even in the 1880s when mariner and novelist Joseph Conrad was sailing its seas and José Rizal was awakening the nationalist aspirations of a wider Malay world. Steamships, airplanes and, above all, new nation states created from maps drawn haphazardly by western empires have eroded its sense of itself. Religious divisions have done the same. The economic dominance of western and east Asian countries has for now marginalized indigenous Nusantarian strengths. Many books of ‘South East Asian’ history are written with scant, if any, acknowledgment of the separate identity of the Austronesian linguistic and cultural heritage of the islands and coasts. For their different reasons, Indian, western and Chinese writers tend to generalize about ‘South East Asia’ mainly by reference to the mainland. Although the populations of states of the archipelago and Malay peninsula outnumber by 40 per cent those of the mainland they receive far less attention, partly because of a shortage of early documentary history.

But nothing can obliterate the common history and shared culture of the maritime region. So this is a book which largely ignores modern state boundaries to give a picture over time of the region, of the role of the sea and of the peoples who have lived near its shores for the past 2,500 or so years.

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by | 18 August 2026 · 8:48 am

Duterte’s Response to COVID

From The Making of the Modern Philippines: Pieces of a Jigsaw State, by Philip Bowring (Bloomsbury Academic, 2022), Kindle pp. 109-110:

The last two years of Duterte’s presidency were dominated by the pandemic. Although blame for what, at least by the standards of its Asian neighbours, was a disastrous outcome did not fall on Duterte in particular, but it did show up the weakness of the Philippine state and the low quality of many of Duterte’s political appointees to important ministries and operational departments – not least a chaotic and overburdened Department of Health. Duterte’s own inclinations added to the problems of the pandemic. His instinct was for controls and lockdowns over testing and tracing. The country was very late in acquiring vaccines – and Duterte’s seeming preference for China’s Sinovac rather than Western ones. The severity of lockdowns in 2020 caused the economy to shrink 7 per cent, far higher than elsewhere in southeast Asia, and brought particular hardship to the millions in the informal sector. The lockdowns were no more successful in curbing the virus than less stringent ones in Indonesia. The Philippines also kept its schools closed for longer than almost any country.

The disastrous GDP performance in 2020 was followed by recovery of only about 5 per cent in 2021 due to renewed lockdowns. Meanwhile, the government debt burden was expected to rise 11.6 trillion pesos in July 2021 from 9.6 trillion a year earlier, despite the efforts of a conservative fiscal policy team to restrain spending. Given the low debt level in 2019, the rise was not especially alarming, particularly as only one-third was in foreign currency. However, the speed of the rise showed the compounding cost of lockdowns.

Duterte took his style of government from Davao to Manila, but the nation was a more complicated place and he had little time for details or issues other than a few such as the drug war. On those details he expected immediate obedience. Cabinet meetings were largely irrelevant and ministerial access to the president was difficult. Competent ministers could get on with their jobs but incompetents often stayed in place if they were unquestionably loyal. Appointments were weighted towards associates from Davao, and to retired generals, men accustomed to following orders In Philippine politics, as elsewhere, friends and benefactors were rewarded with positions and deals, but Duterte raised this to a level well above that of his predecessor. He behaved as one seeing himself as above the law, ruling from a bully pulpit.

As the 2022 election loomed, Duterte saw a need to protect himself from prosecution should the opposition win.

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by | 13 August 2026 · 5:56 am

Magsaysay Era in the Philippines

From The Making of the Modern Philippines: Pieces of a Jigsaw State, by Philip Bowring (Bloomsbury Academic, 2022), Kindle pp. 60-62:

Magsaysay was dynamic, reorganizing and enlarging the army, improving discipline and reducing corruption. He exuded a man of the people image, meeting peasants and joining troops on operations. His close links to the US was not an issue for most Filipinos, Huk-leaning peasants included, who were still grateful to The US for helping rid them of the Japanese. He acknowledged peasant grievances and talked of land reform, increased crop shares and offers of free land in Mindanao. Copious US funds brought clinics, roads and services to poor villages. Lansdale was a behind campaigns to discredit the Huks, frighten their peasant supporters with psywar propaganda and use money and the media to highlight the positive. Those measures were at least as important as the military ones. Gradually, the tide turned against the rebellion which remained focused on Central Luzon despite Huk efforts to develop movements in Bicol, the Visayas and Mindanao.

By the time Magsaysay became president, the Huks were weakening, their forest camps threatened by Magsaysay’s troops. They were short of arms and divided ideologically between urban mostly well-born idealist Communists, several of whom were arrested, including the party boss, Jose Lava, as well as Taruc and his men in the field. Many peasants felt they had been heard and that conditions were being ameliorated. The rebellion faded, particularly after Taruc’s surrender following negotiations with Magsaysay’s envoy and a young well-connected journalist, Benigno Aquino Jr. The son of a leading collaborator he was to use the resulting fame to propel his own political ambitions.

Magsaysay was very much America’s man in foreign policy, the Manila Conference of 1954 creating the South East Asia Treaty Organization – a US-led anti-Communist alliance. He also declined to join such giants of anti-colonialism as Nehru, Nasser and Sukarno at the Afro-Asian Bandung Conference in 1955, though he did agree to send foreign secretary Carlos Romulo. Magsaysay’s clout in Washington enabled the nation to re-visit some of the provisions of the odious 1946 Trade Act. Jose Laurel represented the Philippines in negotiating what was known as the 1955 Laurel-Langley Agreement. This freed the Philippines to set its exchange rate against the US dollar and significantly improved trade access to the US through preferential tariffs and quotas. In particular, it benefitted sugar producers now able to sell in the US at a higher price than the world market. Parity rights for Americans were maintained but the Agreement was to expire in 1974. Also in 1955, the Philippines finally reached a reparations agreement with Japan, providing $550 million and a promise of another $250 million in private sector investment.

The flow of US money was the first key to a rapid recovery of the economy, even if it was mostly evident in Manila and a few other cities. Japanese reparations followed with private US investment arriving to take advantage of its privileges. The nation was seen as the most likely to prosper in the region because of its mix of education, access to the US and relatively stable political outlook. Indeed, from 1950, when its GDP per head was already higher than Japan, Taiwan, Korea and Thailand, it had the region’s highest annual GDP growth rate of 6.5 per cent.

Magsaysay died in a plane crash in Cebu in March 1957 and was automatically succeeded by Vice-President Carlos Garcia. He had served as Foreign Secretary under Magsaysay and was identified as a pro-American anti-communist, chairing the 1954 Manila Conference which saw the creation of the South East Asia Treaty Organization. One of his first acts in office was to sign a law making the Communist Party illegal, but in other respects he was a staunch nationalist who resented foreign commercial domination, a reference to the local Chinese as well as to the US interests. Garcia was elected President in late 1957 as a Nacionalista with 41 per cent in an election with several prominent candidates, but his running mate, Jose Laurel, the son of the president appointed by Japan, lost the vice-presidency to Diosdado Macapagal of the main opposition Liberal party. The Nacionalistas controlled Congress, with a representative from Ilocos, Ferdinand Marcos, as the minority leader.

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The creation of an indigenous capitalist class was a natural goal and one pursued elsewhere in Asia. However, it rested on three pillars: one was the landowning elite who used their resources, wealth and political clout to expand their economic role but were not natural entrepreneurs; the second was the Chinese who, evading laws to deter them, managed the shift from middle-man role to into newer manufacturing industries; the third was the state, supposedly in command but without institutional roots, short of funds and at the beck and call of politicians and rent seekers. The policies did have the effect of bringing more local investment into protected manufacturing. The anti-Chinese Retail Nationalization Act in the longer run helped the Chinese by forcing them out of retailing into manufacturing, whose percentage of GDP rose from 10.7 per cent in 1948 to 17 per cent in 1960.

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by | 10 August 2026 · 4:59 am

Manila in Global Trade, 1600s

From The Making of the Modern Philippines: Pieces of a Jigsaw State, by Philip Bowring (Bloomsbury Academic, 2022), Kindle pp. 25-26:

Despite the best intentions of some Spanish officials and priests, the overall low standard of Spanish rule was exacerbated by the conflicts of interest between State, clerics and encomenderos. This was acknowledged at the time by officials on the ground.

…

Manila was a different story. As the main focus of Spanish rule and source, it soon acquired walls, stone buildings and a cathedral. The city flourished from the galleon trade established very soon after the conquest. Ships from Mexico brought silver, while traders arrived from China and Japan, and a few from Melaka and elsewhere, to sell luxury goods, spices etc. for silver. The trade was immensely profitable for the Spanish merchants in Manila and the growth of the city attracted thousands of Chinese workers in addition to traders. Chinese generally became known as ‘sangleys’ – derived from the Hokkien word for trader, a name still reflected today in Sangley Point, the little peninsula jutting out into Manila Bay and the location of a small US-built airport. Some Augustinian friars learned Hokkien and converted some Chinese to Christianity.

By 1603, there were far more Chinese – about 30,000 – than Spanish. Tensions rose to the point that the Chinese, fearing they were about to be forced back to China, revolted and had initial success. However, they were inadequately equipped and had to retreat to a camp in Batangas where they succumbed to a force of some 200 Spanish, 300 Japanese and 1,500 locally recruited men. The Chinese had appealed to their emperor for help but Ming China was unsympathetic to those who betrayed their country by settling abroad. About 20,000 Chinese were massacred. The emperor threatened the Spanish with retribution but did nothing. Trade was interrupted but only briefly.

Another impact observed by de Morga was the shortage of skilled manpower. Due to the influx of low-cost Chinese labour, the Indios had ‘forgotten husbandry, the rearing of fowls, flocks, cotton and weaving robes as they used to do in the time of their paganism and for a long time after the country had been conquered’.

The Chinese gradually returned to Manila so that they numbered 25,000 by 1636 but they were again the subject of killings in 1639 following a minor rebellion by Chinese relocated to the countryside outside Manila to grow rice. The Chinese and Spanish needed each other but the relationship was always uneasy due to Spanish (and some indigenous) fears of Chinese numbers. Although most were in Manila and major towns and dominated the retail trade and crafts, some did move to rural areas as petty traders and money lenders.

The galleon trade was very profitable for those involved in it and a right to space on one bound to Mexico one was highly valued. Two vessels a year usually made the journey – two out, two in. Losses at sea were quite small – twenty-six out of a total of 108 galleons over the 250 years. Most of these occurred in the vicinity of the archipelago, particularly the tricky passage from Manila to the open Pacific via the San Bernardino Strait between Luzon and Samar. Four vessels were seized by the English.

The flow of silver into China gave a major boost to its money supply and other trade, domestic and foreign. It is sometimes described as the first globalization, though in reality Manila was involved with little other than the galleon/China trade as trade with Europe via the Indian and Atlantic Oceans was controlled by others. Merchants from ports such as Melaka brought goods such as cottons, carpets and spices from India, to join the cargoes of Chinese and Japanese products, but Manila merchants did not go west. The galleons were the property of State which controlled access to space, which enriched officials. A committee headed by the governor and including the head of the audencia (supreme court) and representatives of the Church, city council and leading merchants allotted boletas, tickets providing a certain amount of cargo space on a galleon. These were not supposed to be traded but gradually the boletas became saleable to genuine merchants, at a price. By the eighteenth century, the system had become an income subsidy for a large part of the Spanish population, at the expense of the genuine merchants.

The galleon trade also existed within a bigger restrictive system which aimed to protect other production and trade interests of Spain and its American possessions. These necessarily were sometimes at odds with each other but in any case kept foreigners out of any non-Asian trade. Meanwhile, the Dutch and English grew fat on their Europe-Asia trade with which Spain could not compete effectively.

The galleons did little for the domestic Philippine economy or trade with other parts of Asia. Indeed, it took away the incentive for the local Spanish to develop the economy. There was little trans-Pacific export of local products. Over time some Filipinos settled in Mexico, having arrived as galleon crew.

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Filed under China, economics, labor, language, Mexico, migration, Philippines, religion, Spain

by | 9 August 2026 · 5:13 am

Modern Philippines: A Jigsaw

From The Making of the Modern Philippines: Pieces of a Jigsaw State, by Philip Bowring (Bloomsbury Academic, 2022), Kindle pp. 1-3:

In March 1521 three ships under Ferdinand Magellan (Magalhaes/Magallanes), a Portuguese navigator in the service of the king of Spain, landed in the Visayan islands. One ship later completed the first circumnavigation of the globe, an event for the history record books but more importantly it changed that history of the islands, now home to 110 million people. A few decades later, Spain assumed ownership of the archipelago stretching from the Luzon Strait to the Sulu Sea and named it Islas Filipinas. The Spanish left a religion, a few genes and some aspects of culture, but the people were and remain predominantly of Malay/Austronesian race, language and culture, albeit with other influences from America and China.

The Philippines is unique in many ways; its geology, its fauna, in its history of rule by two successive Western powers, Spain and the United States. It has been a political identity with a singular name for nearly 500 years, much longer than many of its neighbours. It is the only predominantly Christian nation in Asia south of the Caucasus and is fervently Catholic. In the nineteenth century it spawned the first modern nationalists fighting Western imperialism.

However, this singularity does not make for an identity which is readily understood even by its own citizens, let alone by foreigners. It is part of the vast Malay Archipelago and shares a basic language and some culture with its Indonesian and Malaysian neighbours but it is separated from them by 500 years of history and itself divided by fragmented geography and regional loyalties. That history explains its current problems as reflected in its weak post-1945 economic and social performance compared with most of its neighbours, and its continuing high levels of violence. Democracy flourishes, elections are regular, noisy and competitive yet little progress is made towards changing a system dominated by dynasties as seen in the contests in the 2022 election. After the grip of two distant empires, Spanish and American, it now lives under the shadow of another, closer one, China.

Geology divides it into more than 2,000 inhabited islands. Regional rivalries and the widespread but not universal use of English have thwarted the acceptance of Filipino (essentially the Tagalog of Central Luzon) as the national language. Regional languages and loyalties remain strong so that imported languages and the Church seem at times the main unifiers. It is also an administrative jigsaw in that power locally lies not with its geographically coherent seventeen regions but with eighty numerous provinces and cities with province-level powers, some very small.

A basic Malay culture has been so influenced by Spain, the Catholic Church and then by America that its identity is sometimes seen as Latin as much as Asian. Indeed, many Filipinos in California, where they are the second largest Asian community, often self-identify as Latino or Pacific islander not Asian. The Catholic Church, as adapted locally, provides some common bond, other than for the Muslims, but faces its own challenge from evangelicals and populist preachers. Religious division is an underlying historical reality exacerbated by the concentration of Muslims in western Mindanao and Sulu and more recently by extremist Islamism from abroad. Yet the cultural roots and language, even aspects of its politics, remain essentially Malay from Ilocos in the north to Sulu in the south. However, fragmented by religion, local languages and quasi-tribal identities, the Philippines is at once identifiable yet hard to define or describe.

The very notion ‘Filipino’ began with local born Spaniards, known as creoles, and only very gradually spread to Spanish mestizos, Chinese mestizos and urbanized indigenous people accepted into the dominant principalia class. The nationalism of the ilustrados (the reformist educated elite) in the late nineteenth century raised national consciousness and the struggles against America and Japan saw mass participation. Independence brought the masses into the Filipino embrace but despite shared urbanization and education, the sense of national identity developed fitfully. Added to the centrifugal forces of geography were the strength of elite links to the US and of many leading businessmen to China. Suggestions to change the colonial name to a Malay one have failed – many late nineteenth revolutionaries preferred ‘Katagalugan’, which became the name of a short-lived Tagalog republic. More recently ‘Maharlika’, a word denoting a Tagalog noble warrior class, has been suggested but attracted little support.

Five hundred years on from the arrival of Spain and Catholicism fissures remain. Muslim Mindanao’s on and off warfare has been about local rivalries as well as opposition to Manila and Christianity. Meanwhile, non-Muslim parts of the island also continue to see conflicts, mainly over land rights between local ethnic groups, particularly in Mindanao and the broader population whose composition has been changed by decades of migration from the Visayas. That internal colonization continues. Visayan languages now predominate in Mindanao. Generally, regional loyalties and in political terms local patron-client relationships remain important. They remain crucial even if weakened by urbanization and the shared identity of the millions of Filipinos now working overseas or brought together via social media such as Facebook or by international beauty pageants. National politics is still partly driven by the regional appeal of particular candidates. Local identity is mostly stronger than national identity, perhaps a reflection of the lack of esteem of the national government.

After years under a backward Spain and the aegis of friars, American imperialism brought education and new legal and administrative systems. Seventy years ago, the then recently independent Philippines boasted higher literacy levels than most of Asia and the highest income levels of populous Asian countries apart from Japan. It had an admired – at least from a distance – US-inspired legal and democratic system. Today, despite two decades of reasonable economic performance, it is widely seen as having failed to match most of its neighbours in income growth and progress in education. It remains better known for natural disasters, flamboyant leaders, political violence and sporadic insurgencies, and for its major export – its own citizens finding work abroad which they could not find at home.

Its social structure has changed only modestly over time, with huge gaps in income and wealth, the dominance of certain families, particularly in the provinces, the preference for the fairer skins of mestizos (European or Chinese) and even place names celebrating colonialists, for example the posh enclaves of Makati – Magallanes, Forbes, Legazpi, Urdaneta and Dasmarinas. Violence is an all too constant ingredient in politics. President Duterte’s so-called War on Drugs killed particularly large numbers. Killings of political rivals, critical journalists and of farmer and worker activists had long been common but accelerated dramatically under Duterte. Lawyers abound but the state of law and order varies widely, ever subject to political and pecuniary influences. The state structure is weak for historical and geographical reasons which partly explain the persistence of insurgencies and of dynastic politics at both national and local levels. Senses of nationalism and civic duty appear weak compared to the demands of kinship and client relationships, blurring lines between public and private spheres. These features have especially flourished under the de-centralized political system and weak central bureaucracy bequeathed by America. Trading and sailing have always been essential elements of economic life and smuggling a natural outcome of attempts to tax it.

However, the nation has strengths too. Filipinos may be divided among themselves at home but in the outside world they have an identity and solidarity that is strong and recognized as such. Gender equality is ahead of most of Asia; Filipino workers are valued overseas for their skills and commitment, and command of English carries global benefits. Its Catholicism is sometimes more about ritual than ideology and society has relatively few hang-ups about racial mixing born of centuries of practice and the more recent impact of migration. It is welcoming of foreigners and renowned for its love of music and fiestas. There is a tradition of free speech – and sometimes gaudy rhetoric – and a media which is often too lively for those in power. In the much longer run, a generation or two away, its high fertility rate, which has long been a burden, will in a generation prove a bonus as most of its neighbours face ageing and falling populations. One day the nation may even acquire a name which reflects its Malay core identity.

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Filed under China, language, migration, nationalism, Philippines, religion, Spain, U.S.

by | 3 March 2026 · 8:42 am

Pole Useless in China, 1956

From Travels with Herodotus, by Ryszard Kapuscinski (Vintage,  2009), Kindle pp. 61-62, 71-72:

With each passing day I thought of the Great Wall more and more as the Great Metaphor. I was surrounded by people with whom I could not communicate, encircled by a world I could not fathom. I was supposed to write—but about what? The press was exclusively in Chinese, so I understood nothing of it. At first I asked Comrade Li to translate for me, but every article, in his translation, began with the words: “As Chairman Mao teaches us,” or “Following the recommendations of Chairman Mao,” etc., etc. Is that what was actually written? My only link to the outside world was Comrade Li, and he was the most impenetrable barrier of all. To my every request for a meeting, a conversation, a trip, he responded, “I will convey this to the newspaper.” And I would hear nothing more on the matter. Nor could I go out alone, without Comrade Li. But where could I have gone anyway? To see whom? I did not know the city, I knew no one, I had no telephone (only Comrade Li had one).

Above all, I did not know the language. Yes, I did try studying it, right from the start. I attempted to tear my way through the thickets of hieroglyphs and ideograms only to come up against the dead end of each character’s maddening multiplicity of meanings. I had just read somewhere that there exist more than eighty English translations of the Tao Te Ching (the bible of Taoism), all of them competent and reliable—and all utterly different! My legs buckled beneath me. No, I thought to myself, I cannot cope with this, I cannot manage.

…

I returned to Warsaw. The reasons for my bizarre situation in China, my lack of real purpose, my senseless suspension in a vacuum, quickly became clear. The idea of sending me to China arose in the aftermath of two thaws: that of October 1956 in Poland, and in China, that of Chairman Mao’s One Hundred Flowers. Even before I arrived in China, an upheaval was under way in Warsaw and in Peking. The head of the Polish Communist Party, Władyslaw Gomułka, initiated a campaign against the liberals, and Mao Tse-tung was launching the draconian politics of the Great Leap Forward.

Practically speaking, I should have left Peking the day after I arrived. But my newspaper was mum—fearful and fighting for its survival, it had forgotten about me. Or perhaps the editors had my interests in mind—perhaps they reckoned that away in China I would somehow be safe? In any event, I now think that the editors of Chungkuo were being informed by the Chinese embassy in Warsaw that the correspondent of Sztandar Młodych is the envoy of a newspaper hanging by a thread and it is only a matter of time before it goes under the ax. I think, too, that it was traditional Chinese principles of hospitality, the importance the Chinese ascribe to saving face, as well as their highly cultivated politeness, that kept me from being summarily expelled. Instead, they created conditions which they assumed would lead me to guess that the models of cooperation that had been agreed to earlier no longer obtained. And that I would say of my own accord: I am leaving.

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Filed under China, education, language, philosophy, Poland, travel