In the last half of the 18th century, all the major states of Southeast Asia were faced with crisis. The great political and social structures of the classical states had begun to decay, and, although the reasons for this disintegration are not altogether clear, the expanded size of the states, the greater complexity of their societies, and the failure of older institutions to cope with change all must have played a part. It is also likely that European efforts to choke and redirect the region’s trade had already done much to destroy the general prosperity that trade previously had provided, though Europeans were neither ubiquitous nor in a position to rule, even in Java. The most serious circumstances were undoubtedly those of Vietnam, where from 1771 to 1802 there raged a struggle—the Tay Son rebellion—over the very nature of the state. This rebellion threatened to sweep away the entire Confucian establishment of Vietnam, and perhaps would have done so if its leader had not attempted to accomplish too much too quickly. Elsewhere, war and confusion held societies in their grip for much shorter periods, but everywhere rulers were compelled to think of changed circumstances around them and what they meant for the future.
In the mainland states three great rulers of three new dynasties came to the fore: Bodawpaya (ruled 1782–1819) in Myanmar, Rama I (1782–1809) in Siam (Thailand), and Gia Long (1802–20) in Vietnam. All three were fully aware of the dangers, internal as well as external, that faced them and their people, and their efforts were directed at meeting these challenges. As their armies extended their reach beyond earlier limits, these rulers vigorously pursued a combination of traditional and new policies designed to strengthen their realms. Of particular importance were efforts to bring villages under closer state control, curb shifting patron-client relationships, and centralize and tighten the state administrative apparatus. The institution of kingship itself seemed to become more dynamic and intimately involved in the direction of the state. In retrospect, some of these policies had a recognizably modern ring to them, and, taken together, they represented, if not a revolution, at least a concerted effort at change. Even Gia Long, whose conscience and circumstance both demanded that he give special attention to reviving the classical Confucian past, quietly incorporated selected Western and Tay Son ideas in his government. Nor were the changes ineffectual, for by 1820 the large mainland states stood at the height of their powers. Nevertheless, it was uncertain whether these efforts would be sufficient to withstand the pressures of the immediate future.
Rama IRama I, statue at Phra Buddha Yodfa (Memorial Bridge), Bangkok.Heinrich Damm
In insular Southeast Asia the Javanese state confronted a similar crisis, but it had far less freedom with which to respond. The Gianti Agreement (1755) had divided the realm and given the Dutch decisive political and economic powers. Though resistance was not impossible, it was difficult, especially since the rulers and their courts were now largely beholden to the Dutch for their positions. The elite’s response to these circumstances generally has been interpreted as a kind of cultural introversion and avoidance of reality, a judgment that probably is too harsh. The Javanese culture and society of earlier days was no longer serviceable, and court intellectuals sought to find a solution in both a revitalization of the past and a clear-eyed examination of the present. Neither effort was successful, though not for want of trying. The idea of opposing Dutch rule, furthermore, was not abandoned entirely, and it was only the devastating Java War (1825–30) that finally tamed the Javanese elite and, oddly enough, left the Dutch to determine the final shape of Javanese culture until the mid-20th century. Western dominance
Except in Java and much of the Philippines, the expansion of Western colonial rule in most of Southeast Asia was a phenomenon only of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th centuries. In the earlier period Europeans tended to acquire territory as a result of complicated and not always desired entanglements with Southeast Asian powers, either in disputes or as a result of alliances. After about 1850, Western forces generally were more invasive, requiring only feeble justification for going on the attack. The most important reasons for the change were a growing Western technological superiority, an increasingly powerful European mercantile community in Southeast Asia, and a competitive scramble for strategic territory. Only Siam remained largely intact and independent. By 1886 the rest of the region had been divided among the British, French, Dutch, and Spanish (who soon were replaced by the Americans), with the Portuguese still clinging to the island of Timor. What were often called “pacification campaigns” were actually colonial wars—notably in Burma (Myanmar), Vietnam, the Philippines, and Indonesia—and continued well into the 20th century. More peaceful Western encroachments on local sovereignty also occurred until the 1920s. Full-blown, modern colonial states existed for only a short period, in many cases for not much more than a generation.
British territorial acquisitions in Burma.Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc.
These colonial regimes, however, were not insubstantial, as they put down strong bureaucratic roots and—though often co-opting existing administrative apparatuses—formed centralized disciplined structures of great power. They were backed by the enormous economic resources of the industrialized Western nations, and by the early 20th century, having effectively disarmed the indigenous societies, they possessed a monopoly on the means of violence. There is no mistaking the impact of Western colonial governments on their surroundings, and nowhere is this more evident than in the economic sphere. Production of tin, oil, rubber, sugar, rice, tobacco, coffee, tea, and other commodities burgeoned, driven by both government and private activity. This brought rapid changes to the physical and human landscape and coupled Southeast Asia to a new worldwide capitalist system.
Indeed, colonial domination was only a variant condition in a rapidly changing world. Siam, which through a combination of circumstance and the wise leadership of Mongkut (ruled 1851–68) and Chulalongkorn (1868–1910) avoided Western rule, nevertheless was compelled to adopt policies similar to, and often even modeled on, those of the colonial powers in order to survive. Modernization appeared to require such an approach, and the Thai did not hesitate to embrace it with enthusiasm. Bangkok in the late 1920s surpassed even British Singapore as a centre of such modern amenities as electric lighting and medical facilities, and the state itself had achieved an enviable degree of political and economic viability among its colonial neighbours. The Thai may have “colonized themselves,” as some critics have noted, but in so doing they also escaped or diluted some of the more corrosive characteristics of Western rule, among them racism and cultural destruction. They also do not appear to have experienced the same degree of rural unrest that troubled their colonial neighbours in the 1920s and ’30s. They were unable, however, to avoid other concomitants of state expansion and modernization. Transformation of state and society
It was not the purpose of the new states to effect rapid or broad social change. Their primary concerns were extending bureaucratic control and creating the conditions for success in a capitalist world economy; the chief necessity was stability or, as the Dutch called it, rust en orde (“tranquility and order”). Boundaries were drawn, villages defined, laws rewritten—all along Western lines of understanding, often completely disregarding indigenous views and practices—and the new structure swiftly replaced the old. Social change was desired only insofar as it might strengthen these activities. Thus, the Thai began early on to send princes to Europe for their education, employing them throughout the government on their return. The Dutch created exclusive schools for the indigenous administrative elite—a kind of petty royalty—and invented ways of reducing social mobility in this group, as, for example, by making important positions hereditary. But the new governments did not provide Western-style learning to most Southeast Asians, primarily because it was an enormous, difficult, and expensive task and also because policymakers worried about the social and political consequences of creating an educated class. Except in the Philippines, by the mid-1930s only a small percentage of indigenous children attended government-run schools, and only a fraction of those studied above the primary-school level. Some Southeast Asian intellectuals soon drew the conclusion that they had better educate themselves, and they began establishing their own schools with modern, secular courses of study. Some, like the Tonkin Free School in Vietnam (1907), were closed by the colonial regimes, their staffs and pupils hounded by police; others, like the many so-called “wild schools” in Indonesia in the 1930s, were much too numerous to do away with altogether, but they were controlled as carefully as possible.