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Book Review: Strategies of Authoritarian Survival and Dissensus in Southeast Asia by Sokphea Young

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Mon, 25/04/2022 - 9:12pm in

In Strategies of Authoritarian Survival and Dissensus in Southeast Asia, Sokphea Young argues that the success of civil society organisation (CSO) movements in Cambodia, Malaysia and Indonesia depends largely on whether these movements are seen as threats to the regime’s winning coalition. This book’s powerful examination lays important foundations for further research examining the link between regime survival and civil society success, writes Bavo Stevens

This book review is published by the LSE Southeast Asia blog and LSE Review of Books blog as part of a collaborative series focusing on timely and important social science books from and about Southeast Asia.

Strategies of Authoritarian Survival and Dissensus in Southeast Asia: Weak Men Versus Strongmen. Sokphea Young. Palgrave. 2021.  

Strategies of Authoritarian Survival and Dissensus in Southeast Asia cover‘Why do some movements succeed while others fail in the context of a regime’s political survival?’ That is the question at the heart of Sokphea Young’s ambitious book, Strategies of Authoritarian Survival and Dissensus in Southeast Asia. The book engages with the complex literatures on authoritarian repression and clientelism to tease out when civil society organisation (CSO) movements and protests are successful in achieving their aims. Young’s close analysis of contemporary Cambodia, alongside two shorter interventions on Indonesia and Malaysia, suggests that the success of CSO movements ultimately depends on how regimes respond to them. Young’s work shows that even when CSOs are strong and well-organised, their success largely depends on whether they are seen as threats to the regime. When CSOs are seen as a threat, regimes are likely to opt for repression. But when CSOs are not seen as a threat, regimes are less likely to repress and opt instead for a concessionary strategy.

In the first part of the book, Young broadly examines the politics of authoritarian control and the political development of modern Cambodia, showing how issues of patrimonialism, repression and control intersect in the country. Young effectively lays out the central challenges that rulers confront in holding on to power, particularly in maintaining support from their winning coalitions through effective client-patron relations. Young casts Prime Minister Hun Sen as the central patron in Cambodia, who has used extractive economic institutions to maintain support and partial political legitimacy. A second strategy that Young describes is the co-option of CSOs, especially CSOs whose work closely aligns with the interests of the regime.

Police officer in Cambodia

Image Credit: Crop of ‘Police’ by Damien @ Flickr licensed under CC BY 2.0

Young then examines two cases emblematic of his central thesis. The first case looks at a peasant movement targeting a powerful Cambodian senator with close ties to the ruling regime and a sugar company. The well-organised movement that developed in response to the expropriation of land by the sugar company threatened the interest of the Baron and, by extension, the ruling regime. The regime’s violent crackdown on protestors and intimidation of activists, in addition to blocking action through the courts, mean that the movement failed to achieve its demands, including the return of the expropriated land.

The second case presents a slightly different story. A European company with agricultural stakes in the country faced a loosely organised response by an indigenous community that felt its land was unfairly expropriated by the company. But unlike the Sugar Baron, the local partner that worked with the European company did not have strong ties to the ruling regime. As a consequence, the regime felt less threatened by the community’s movement, which gave its local officials the space to use regulatory instruments to address the CSO movement’s demands as part of its more concessional strategy. The community was able to partially fulfil its goal and received some compensation for its lost land.

In short, the first CSO movement, despite being relatively strong and well-organised, threatened the regime’s neo-patrimonial network and faced a repressive response that prevented it from achieving its goals. The second CSO movement, which was relatively weak and more loosely organised, did not threaten the regime’s network, and faced a more concessionary strategy that allowed it to partially achieve its goals. The argument presented in these two chapters is overall convincing. The in-depth analysis of these two cases with a broader discussion of CSO movements and neo-patrimonialism presents a convincing case of Young’s argument: it is ultimately the regime’s response that matters the most.

It is in its discussion of Cambodia that the ambitions and strengths of the book shine. By identifying how ‘threats from society’ can challenge the interests of a regime’s neo-patrimonial network, Young is able to show that distinguishing between threats of authoritarian power-sharing and control, like Milan Svolik also demonstrates, is not always so clear cut. Rather, they inform each other; threats from society and threats from elites are linked.

The strong discussion on Cambodia sets Young up for an interesting comparative analysis with Malaysia and Indonesia in the two penultimate chapters of the book. Though Young is able to show that similar patterns existed in Malaysia and Indonesia, this is not argued as clearly as the earlier chapters on Cambodia. For one, the analytical focus in the Malaysia and Indonesia chapters shifts somewhat from CSO movements and the neo-patrimonial networks of the regimes to the survival strategies of former Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad and Suharto, former President of Indonesia. The chapters point to changes to the winning coalitions of the respective regimes, rivalries that existed within these coalitions and how Mahathir and Suharto navigated their rivalries with other elites and responded to challenges from society. Young’s discussion in these chapters is not as sophisticated as his analyses of CSO movements in Cambodia because the reader is given less information on the strength and strategies of the CSO movements Young studies nor evidence on the winning coalition of the regime.

Secondly, where Young does discuss CSO movements, the neo-patrimonial links appear more tenuous. For instance, in the chapter on Malaysia, Young discusses several dam-building projects. One of the projects Young highlights is the Bakun project, which resumed after the Asian financial crisis with one of the Prime Minister’s close friends, Ting Pek Khiing, awarded the contract. This suggests that similar dynamics are at play, but it is never clearly established if Ting Pek Khiing was an initial member of Mahathir’s winning coalition, what the scope and strength of the CSO movement that protested the project were or if broader economic factors following the 1997 crisis influenced the decision to move forward with the project.

Similar concerns emerge in the chapter on Indonesia, where Young discusses similar examples of resistance. One notable example is the movement against the Kedung Ombo dam project. The project faced continued protests from the people of Boyolali whose land was to be flooded. The protestors took their case to court, with the Supreme Court ultimately ruling for $4.5 million in compensation. Suharto intervened and overturned the project and the compensation was voided. Young argues that Suharto intervened to maintain the economic interests of the crony system that underpinned his regime since many dams were funded by Indonesian cement companies, some of which belonged to his siblings and allies. But if that is the primary reason why the Kedung Ombo project moved forward, it is left somewhat unclear why the movement against the Lindu dam project was more successful. Like the Bakun project in Malaysia, questions about the scope and strength of the CSO movement also remain unanswered.

Despite some of these limitations, Young’s book offers a powerful look at the strategies of authoritarian survival and how they shape the success and failure of CSO movements. It is work by scholars like Young that helps add significant nuance to our understanding of how authoritarian regimes can operate. Young sheds light on why authoritarian regimes respond differently to the demands of similar civil society organisations and demonstrates that the neat divide between threats from elites and threats from society in understanding regime durability is rarely so neat. The book is therefore able to lay important foundations for further research that examines the link between regime survival and civil society success.

Note: This review gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, or of the London School of Economics and Political Science.


Book Review: Genre Publics: Popular Music, Technologies, and Class in Indonesia by Emma Baulch

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 17/03/2022 - 10:24pm in

In Genre Publics: Popular Music, Technologies, and Class in Indonesia, Emma Baulch explores the interconnections between the Indonesian public sphere and popular music. This is a rich contribution to the theorisation of genre publics, examining the varied socio-cultural dynamics of popular music and its role in constituting the public sphere in Indonesia, writes Rituparna Patgiri.

This book review is published by the LSE Southeast Asia blog and LSE Review of Books blog as part of a collaborative series focusing on timely and important social science books from and about Southeast Asia.

Genre Publics: Popular Music, Technologies, and Class in IndonesiaEmma Baulch. Wesleyan University Press. 2021.

Book cover of Genre PublicsIn recent years, a lot of social science scholarship has been devoted to understanding the soft power of Hallyu – South Korea’s cultural wave. However, not much is known about cultural trends in other parts of Asia. Hence, Emma Baulch’s book, Genre Publics: Popular Music, Technologies, and Class in Indonesiapublished by Wesleyan University Press in 2020, is a timely intervention. It explores the interconnections between the Indonesian public sphere and popular music. Academic interest in popular music is historical, with one of the twentieth century’s most famous thinkers – Theodor Adorno – publishing an essay titled ‘On Popular Music’ in 1941. Baulch’s book is yet another attempt at exploring the varied socio-cultural dynamics of popular music and its role in constituting the public sphere in Indonesia.

The book is divided into three parts. The first part on technological paradigms explores the changes and continuities in the constitution and articulation of genre publics between 1965-2005. The second part looks at how middle-classness is built and understood in a globalised and deregulated world. The third and final section pursues patterns of organisational life that emerge in the context of the new technological paradigms. It is both theoretically and empirically rich, with all three sections containing case studies of different popular music bands and magazines and other forms of media.

Microphone in music venue

Photo by BRUNO EMMANUELLE on Unsplash

With globalisation, new local centres have emerged in Indonesia, which have facilitated the growth of pop music. Baulch interrogates the way local pop music is produced in this global context. Claims of authenticity in music are raised, with pre-existing genres classified by their association with a village-metropolis (kampungan/gedongan) dichotomy (3). Genres that use ‘Indian’ elements are categorised as kampungan/Melayu, and those that use ‘Western’ elements are classified as gedongan/Indonesian. The music genre publics are thus classified and also subsequently ranked. The genres using ‘Indian’ elements are ranked lower than those using ‘Western’ ones. The role of the print media is particularly significant in how gedongan has been portrayed in opposition to kampunganGedongan has been seen as the more ‘refined’ genre of music.

As such, it becomes important to also understand who listens to which form of music. While the urban middle class prefers to listen to the gedongan genre, the rural public prefers kampungan. This clearly indicates how ideas of taste themselves are social location-based (class, caste, race, gender, ethnicity, etc), as French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu argued. Thus, genres of popular music become useful in highlighting the class relations that exist in Indonesian society.

The Indonesian middle classes have been heavily dependent on the state. But the pop music magazine Aktuil, through its content, made these classes feel that they were a part of the public sphere. By reading about rock music, they were made to feel like they belonged to the changing globalised world (46). Aktuil also addressed readers through glittering images and advertisements. A new kind of ‘consumer citizenship’ was created, which enabled the articulation of an ‘ideal democratic personhood’ (49) to its large readership. Thus, the story of popular music is also a story of changing class and democratic relations in Indonesia, as captured by these lines from the book: ‘As well as providing a link to an imagined community of readers, Aktuil furnished youth with sartorial equipment that gave them a sense of power over public space (47).

The book also explores another dimension of pop music and its relationship to the public sphere – the impact of technological advancements. Media deregulation and digitalisation have meant that the range of technologies that can mediate pop music has significantly advanced (7). Television in this context has emerged as a powerful form of media that has been able to increase the popularity of popular music. In fact, it became an alternate way in which kampungan was reinvented by the masses as a counter-public.

There is also integration/intersection between forms of media. For instance, the fans of the popular provincial boy band Kangen initially came together through CDs that were informally circulated and then became mediatised televisionally. The Kangen band was seen as representing poor people who played their own versions of pop music, often considered to be technically incorrect. Although it was ranked lower than gedongan in terms of genres, kampungan offered the poor a chance to participate in the consumer economy.

Media plays a key role in shaping modes of social organisation and citizenship. New communicative practices were ushered in by changing digital technologies. There was a ‘boom’ of local musical forms that can be generally categorised as kampungan spearheaded by the growth of private television and the recording industry. The media plays a critical role in decentralising and diversifying the existing public sphere. Baulch writes that: ‘The valorisation of kampungan evident in the pop Melayu case arises not from the political empowerment of the masses, but from a new technological landscape that visibilized the lower classes in new ways (79).

This understanding of kampungan/gedongan is thus also a study of genres. Genres have social and public meanings, as exemplified by this study of popular music in Indonesia. While I feel that the book could have been simpler language-wise, which would have increased its appeal, it is a rich contribution to the field of theorisations of genre publics. It is also an interesting exploration of the concept of the public sphere as the author has richly engaged with various theories of the public.

Note: This review gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, the Saw Swee Hock Southeast Asia Centre or of the London School of Economics and Political Science. 


Police violently break up Afghan refugee protest in Indonesia

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Thu, 20/01/2022 - 7:45pm in

The refugees would like either citizenship or resettlement

Originally published on Global Voices

Afgan refugees in Indoneisa have been meeting to protest perceived inaction from the UNHCR. Refugees are calling for either Indonesian citizenship, or resettlement elsewhere. Image via YouTube.

Content notice: This article contains mention of depression, suicide, and police violence.

A peaceful protest of Afghan refugees was violently broken up by police on January 17 in Pekanbaru, Indonesia, a city on the island of Sumatra. The refugees were attempting to draw international attention to their years of displacement, mistreatment, and neglect by the Indonesian government and the international community. Police dispersed the protest by beating attendees and striking them with batons. Several attendees were reportedly injured. 

The protest emerged outside of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees office because an Afghan refugee community member committed suicide on January 16. They were the 15th person to die from suicide in the community. Veronica Koman, an Amnesty International representative tweeted a video of the clash [content notice: some viewers may find the following video disturbing]: 

Some Afghan refugees have been living in limbo in Indonesia for over a decade, waiting to either receive citizenship from the Indonesian government or get approval and documents to move to another country. 

Mohammad Juma Mohseni was forced to leave Afghanistan in 2011 and has been living in Indonesia for nearly a decade. He told Gandhara news, a branch of Radio Free Europe, “[Fifteen] people have committed suicide and 10 have been prevented from committing suicide.” He added, “neither Indonesia nor the UNHCR has had a positive message for us.”

The Indonesian government is not party to the 1951 UN Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees or the 1967 protocol intended to eliminate restrictions on who can be considered a refugee. It does not have any official asylum laws and delegates all oversight to the UNHCR office and the International Organization for Migration (IOM). There are over 13,700 Afghani refugees in Indonesia who have been there for over 10 years. 

According to the SUAKA, an Indonesian civil society organization for refugee rights, asylum seekers in Indonesia are not permitted to work, receive social benefits from the Government of Indonesia, ​​own a car or motorbike, travel outside city limits, or go to university.

The IOM covers basic living costs while they await repatriation or resettlement. 

International inattention and tragedy

Some Afghan refugees in Indonesia have been camping outside of the UNHCR building for months. Screenshot courtesy of YouTube.

Monday’s incident is the latest in a number of heartbreaking incidents in recent months as Afghan refugees desperately try to call attention to their plight in Indonesia. Some refugees have been continuously camping out outside UNHCR offices waiting for news about their resettlement and attempting to raise awareness about their situations.

A group of Afghan refugees staged a 24-hour protest outside the IOM office in Medanon on November 30, 2021. One attendee, Ahmad Shah, 22, set himself on fire in front of the building. He had been in Indonesia awaiting permanent resettlement, separated from his family and loved ones, and unable to leave the country since 2016. 

He suffered third-degree burns and was reportedly taken to a nearby private hospital until he was moved to a public one on the same day. 

UNHCR Indonesia spokesperson Dwi Prafitria Juma told The Jakarta Post the agency was “deeply concerned about” and investigating the incident.

At least two dozen Afghan refugees had previously set themselves on fire. Six survived. 

“This is the seventh person we saved who was experiencing undue stress and fighting depression from living in limbo for around seven years,” said Juma in a press conference in front of the UNHCR office.

In recent months numerous refugees in Indonesia have sewn their mouths shut as a form of civil disobedience and protest.

In an interview with the Voice of America news agency the founder of Solidarity Indoenisa for Refugees (SIR), Ali Yusef, explained that Indonesia's refugees feel forced to take such extreme measures because they feel silenced and unheard. He worries for their mental health and urged UNHCR representatives to take immediate action.

The facts on the ground are that the UNHCR is less responsive to the fate of refugees in Indonesia. The proof is that they are not able to communicate with UNHCR when they want. … Don't let their delay mean the refugees who are sewing their mouths can injure themselves or even take their own lives. In the name of humanity UNHCR, please meet them. Explain that UNHCR is looking for a solution for them.

He added, “The world will judge Indonesia to be indifferent to international citizens.”

Both the UNHCR and IOM are responsible for managing refugees in Indonesia until they can be moved to another more permanent location. Both have been accused of neglecting and mishandling refugee affairs in the past. 

Before the Taliban came to power in August 2021, Indonesia housed the fourth-largest number of Afghan refugees in the world — behind Iran, Pakistan, and India. Most of these refugees intended to stop in Indonesia only temporarily until they could reach Australia. However, in 2013, Australia closed its borders to refugees and asylum seekers. Many were left stateless and stranded in Indonesia without recourse.

The situation has worsened since Kabul fell in August 2021. Experts say the situation in Afghanistan is likely exasperating feelings of helplessness that many Afghan refugees already deal with. It has also crushed their slim hopes of potentially returning to their home country and made it even more unlikely they will get rehoused, due to added influx of new refugees who have fled the Taliban.

Additionally, many countries have lowered the number of refugees they accept in recent years, and during the COVID-19 pandemic, the number of resettled refugees has reached a 20-year low, according to the UNHCR. The organization found that 160 countries had closed their borders at some point during the pandemic in 2020, with 99 states making no exceptions for people seeking protection.

As a result, many refugees are finding it impossible to relocate to a third country or attain stability.

For years, refugee advocacy organizations have been calling for improved conditions in Indonesia, though those calls have not received much traction. In the meantime, citizens are doing what they can and using the hashtag #HelpRefugees_Indonesia on Twitter and social media, as a rallying call to support refugees. 

In a petition, discussing the situation Afghan refugees face in Indonesia, Musa Zafar wrote:

Their most basic fundamental rights, which are emphasized in international instruments such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, are systematically infringed on a daily basis. Their freedom of movement, education, employment, and political and social rights have been ignored. These people have been forgotten and the world has turned a blind eye to their crisis.

Book Review: Underground Asia: Global Revolutionaries and the Assault on Empire by Tim Harper

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Tue, 04/01/2022 - 10:41pm in

In Underground Asia, Tim Harper explores the intensifying anti-colonial activity across South, Southeast and East Asia that sought to undermine empire ‘from below’ in the opening decades of the twentieth century. Weaving together an amazing array of sources into a memorable and exciting narrative and offering a fresh perspective on familiar events, this is a brilliantly realised work of history, finds Oliver Crawford

This book review is published by the LSE Southeast Asia blog and LSE Review of Books as part of a collaborative series focusing on timely and important social science books from and about Southeast Asia.

Underground Asia: Global Revolutionaries and the Assault on Empire. Tim Harper. Penguin. 2020.

The decolonisation of Asia was one of the great events of the twentieth century. Today we take it for granted that countries such as China, India and Indonesia are self-governing nation states. But as recently as the 1930s, Bonifacius de Jonge, the Dutch Governor-General of the Netherlands East Indies (now Indonesia), could say with confidence: ‘We have ruled here for 300 years with the whip and the club, and we shall still be doing it for another 300 years.’ As it turned out, he was wrong. By 1950, Indonesia and India had achieved independence, and a People’s Republic, committed to the overthrow of Western imperialism, had been proclaimed in China.

The tumultuous years of the Second World War and its aftermath loom large in standard accounts of Asian decolonisation. Tim Harper and Chris Bayly covered this ground themselves in Forgotten Armies (2004) and Forgotten Wars (2007). In his magisterial new book, Underground Asia (2020)Harper switches focus to the opening decades of the twentieth century (around 1905-27), from the closing years of Europe’s belle epoque to the jazz age, when, he says, European empires in Asia were ‘fundamentally undermined from below’. These were the years of the First World War and the October Revolution. They were also, as Harper shows, a time of intensifying anti-colonial activity across South, Southeast and East Asia, when assassinations, mutinies, strikes and ‘native’ uprisings caused European officials to fear that the colonial order in Asia might be on the verge of unravelling altogether.

Central to imperial officials’ fears in these years was a new kind of colonial subject: widely travelled, educated in the European style (generally fluent in several languages), well-versed in modern political creeds such as anarchism and Marxism, connected to various international cultural and political networks and implacably hostile to foreign rule. Harper introduces us to many figures of this kind: the Indians Har Dayal, M.P.T. Acharya and M.N. Roy; the Indonesians Semaun and Tan Malaka; and the Vietnamese Phan Boi Chau and Nguyen Ai Quoc. It is this cast of Asian radicals – as opposed to the more familiar pantheon of Asian national leaders, such as Gandhi, Nehru, Mao and Sukarno – whose stories Harper tells in Underground Asia.

Image Credit: Photo by uji kanggo gumilang on Unsplash

The book itself is structured chronologically. The first five chapters span the years 1905-14, when the underground took shape. This happened mainly not in colonial Asia itself but in the cities of Britain, France, Japan, China and the United States, where various Asian anti-colonialists lived, worked, studied and interacted, learning from one another and coming to see ‘Asia’ as a single field of anti-colonial struggle. Chapters Six to Nine cover the First World War, an event that opened new possibilities for resisting imperialism in Asia. At first, certain Indian radicals saw Germany as a promising partner in the struggle against British rule. It was the October Revolution, though, and above all Lenin’s support for Asian ‘national movements’, that transformed the Asian underground. As described in Chapters Ten to Thirteen, communist parties began to form in Asia from 1920, while Asian anti-colonialists such as M.N. Roy, Tan Malaka and Nguyen Ai Quoc soon travelled to Moscow and began engaging (often critically) with the Communist International (Comintern).

The story reaches its climax in Chapter Fourteen, with the National Revolutionary Army’s 1926 Northern Expedition in China and the 1926-27 communist uprisings in Java and Sumatra. Both events, though charged with the promise of emancipation, rapidly descended into bloodshed, ending with a purge of communists in China and the mass execution, arrest and exile of rebels in Indonesia. After 1927, in Harper’s view, there was something of a changing of the guard. A new set of anti-imperialists came to prominence, more committed to party discipline and more nationalist in their politics. With the exception of Nguyen Ai Quoc (better known today as Ho Chi Minh), the careers of those in the underground ended in failure. M.N. Roy was not at the centre of India’s transition to independence. Tan Malaka was killed by political enemies in the Indonesian Republican Army in 1949, in the last months of the Indonesian Revolution. He was buried in an unmarked grave in Java and all but written out of his country’s history during the long reign of the anti-communist General Suharto (1966-98).

Two themes come out strongly from Harper’s account. First, the quality of the everyday life of anti-colonialists – sometimes exciting and even inspiring; often lonely, poor, cold and insecure, lived in fear of deportation or imprisonment by colonial police. Several memorable phrases capture the mood of life in the underground: ‘the world, steerage class’; ‘rebels in rubber soles’; ‘the country of the lost’. The second recurring theme is a sense of the underground’s characteristic politics. These were often ideologically eclectic and tinged with utopianism, from the anarchism of Acharya to the Islamic-communism of Semaun. They were also pervaded by an air of cosmopolitanism, both in the sense that the figures from the underground were often polyglots who drew omnivorously on world culture, and in the stronger sense that they often dreamed a post-imperial future when the world would dispense with the borders violently established by centuries of European imperialism.

I have two criticisms of Underground Asia. The first relates to whether the underground really did ‘undermine’ European rule in Asia, as Harper claims. Looking at Indonesia, in 1927 European rule was still firmly in place across the archipelago. Indeed, as a result of the failed 1926-27 uprisings in Java and Sumatra, it would be buttressed further by new police and censorship powers. It was not until the Japanese defeat of the Dutch in 1942 and subsequent occupation of Indonesia (1942-45) that the real tipping point came for the Indonesian independence struggle.

My second criticism concerns political violence. Harper acknowledges that Tan Malaka, not uniquely among the figures discussed in the book, saw violence as ‘a revolutionary necessity’. He also argues, however, that Tan Malaka believed Dutch rule might be ended by ‘the suborning of military garrisons, the solidarity of general stoppages, the unstoppable momentum and moral force of mass demonstration’ (543). Undoubtedly Tan Malaka hoped that violence might not be necessary to end foreign rule, but surely understood that ‘moral force’ alone was unlikely to be sufficient. In his writings he was fulsome in his praise of the Bolsheviks and, later, the Chinese Communists under Mao, neither of whom shied away from violent (and highly authoritarian) methods of achieving their political goals. This ought to remind us that the politics of the Asian underground, though focused on emancipation, had a darker side – one that Harper might have dwelt on longer.

These caveats aside, Underground Asia is a brilliantly realised work of history. It weaves together an amazing array of sources into a memorable and exciting narrative, offering a fresh perspective on familiar events and bringing to life a cast of historical actors who are too often forgotten in their own national histories.

Note: This review gives the views of the author, and not the position of the LSE Review of Books blog, the Saw Swee Hock Southeast Asia Centre or of the London School of Economics and Political Science.


EXCLUSIVE: ‘Gamechanger’ for Charities Could be on the Way

Published by Anonymous (not verified) on Tue, 17/02/2015 - 10:16am in