Contending With Nationalism and Communism: British Policy Towards Southeast Asia, 1945-65 (Global Conflict and Security since 1945)

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Global Conflict and Security since 1945 Editors: Professor Saki R. Dockrill, King’s College London and Dr William Rosenau, RAND Palgrave Macmillan’s new book series Global Conflict and Security since 1945 seeks fresh historical perspectives to promote the empirical understanding of global conflict and security issues arising from international law, leadership, politics, multilateral operations, weapons systems and technology, intelligence, civil– military relations and societies. The series welcomes original and innovative approaches to the subject by new and established scholars. Possible topics include terrorism, nationalism, civil wars, the Cold War, military and humanitarian interventions, nation-building, pre-emptive attacks, the role of the United Nations and other non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and the national security and defence policies of major states. Events in the world since 11 September 2001 remind us that differences of ideology, religion and values and beliefs held by a group of societies or people affect the security of ordinary peoples and different societies often without warning. The series is designed to deepen our understanding of the recent past and seeks to make a significant contribution to the debates on conflict and security in the major world capitals. Advisory Board Members: Professor Mats Berdal, Chair of Security and Development, King’s College London, Ambassador James Dobbins, Director International Security and Defence Policy Center, RAND, Professor Sir Lawrence Freedman, Vice Principal (Research), King’s College London, Professor Bruce Hoffman, Georgetown University and former Director of RAND’s Washington Office Titles in the series include: Vesselin Dimitrov STALIN’S COLD WAR Soviet Foreign Policy, Democracy and Communism in Bulgaria 1941–48 James Ellison UNITED STATES, BRITAIN AND THE TRANSATLANTIC CRISIS Rising to the Gaullist Challenge, 1963–1968 Peter Lowe CONTENDING WITH NATIONALISM AND COMMUNISM British Policy towards Southeast Asia, 1945–65 Jon Roper THE UNITED STATES AND THE LEGACY OF THE VIETNAM WAR T. O. Smith BRITAIN AND THE ORIGINS OF THE VIETNAM WAR UK Policy in Indo-China, 1943–50

Forthcoming title: Ken Young WEAPONS SYSTEMS AND THE POLITICS OF INTERDEPENDENCE

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Contending with Nationalism and Communism British Policy towards Southeast Asia, 1945–65

Peter Lowe

© Peter Lowe 2009 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6-10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The author has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2009 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin's Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN-13: 978–0–230–52487–3 hardback ISBN-10: 0–230–52487–7 hardback This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne

To the Memory of Evan Edwards (1914–2007)

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Contents Acknowledgements

viii

List of Abbreviations

x

List of Maps

xii

Introduction

1

1 The Return of Colonialism, 1945–48

12

2

The Communist Challenges in Malaya and Indochina

42

3

Two Approaches to Containing Communism: The Colombo Plan and SEATO

73

Democracy, Communism and Militarism in Burma, 1948–65

97

4 5

Ambivalence and Commitment: Vietnam, 1955–65

128

6

Britain, Cambodia and Laos, 1955–65

158

7

Britain, Thailand and the Philippines, 1945–65

188

8

Britain, Indonesia and the Creation of Malaysia, 1959–65

215

Conclusion

246

Appendix: List of British Officials

253

Notes

257

Select Bibliography

292

Index

301

vii

Acknowledgements I wish to thank the University of Manchester for granting me research leave for one semester when I commenced research for this volume. I am particularly grateful to the Leverhulme Trust for awarding me an Emeritus Fellowship for the maximum period of two years, which enabled me to fulfil research in British and American archives. I am also grateful to the institutions and staff in the various places where I researched records. The bulk of my time was spent in the National Archives (formerly Public Record Office), Kew, where the staff provided material efficiently and cheerfully over the years. In addition, I wish to thank the following institutions for granting me access to archives: the Bodleian Library, Oxford, Churchill College, Cambridge, the National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh, the Libraries of the Universities of Birmingham and Southampton, the John F. Kennedy Library, Boston, Massachusetts, the Lyndon B. Johnson Library, Austin, Texas and the Hoover Institution on War, Revolution and Peace, Stanford University, California. I reiterate my customary thanks to the John Rylands University Library of Manchester and, for the first time, it is a pleasure to thank the Hartley Library of the University of Southampton as my new ‘local’ university. During the lengthy period of research for this volume I have gained from exchanging views with various friends and students and it is a pleasure to thank Sir Hugh Cortazzi, David Dilks, the late Elizabeth Hunter, Matthew Jones, Diego Musitelli, Ian Nish, Adam Rothapel, Sattam al-Otaiby and Tony Stockwell. I am most grateful to Palgrave Macmillan for encouragement and support. I have gained considerably from the constructive advice of the anonymous reader and I have implemented all the suggestions for improving the flow of argument. In addition, I wish to underline my gratitude to Saki Dockill and to Michael Strang and Ruth Ireland for editorial guidance. I wish to thank the following publishers for permission to reproduce maps. Map 1 of Burma is reprinted from John F. Cady, A History of Modern Burma. Copyright © 1958 by Cornell University; copyright renewed 1986 by John F. Cady. Used by permission of the publisher, Cornell University Press. Map 3 of Malaysia and Indonesia is reprinted from Matthew Jones, Conflict and Confrontation in South East Asia, 1961–1965. Britain, the United States, Indonesia and the Creation of Malaysia (2001), viii

Acknowledgements

ix

published by Cambridge University Press and used by permission of the publisher. Transcripts/translations of Crown copyright appear by permission of the National Archives, Kew. Finally, I must state that I am alone responsible for errors of commission and omission.

Abbreviations AFPFL ANZAM ANZUS ASA ASEAN BCP BRIAM BSM Cab CAT CCP CIA CO COS CPB CRO Defe DRV EDP FCO FO FRUS GATT ICC ICP ILP IMP JCS JIC JPS JSEAS KMT MAAG MCA MCP MIC

Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League Australia, New Zealand, Malaya Australia, New Zealand, United States Association of Southeast Asia Association of Southeast Asian Nations Burma Communist Party British Advisory Mission British Services Mission Cabinet Office papers, National Archives, Kew Civil Air Transport Chinese Communist Party Central Intelligence Agency Colonial Office records, National Archives, Kew Chiefs of Staff Communist Party of Burma Commonwealth Relations Office Ministry of Defence papers, National Archives, Kew Democratic Republic of Vietnam Economic Development Programme Foreign & Commonwealth Office Foreign Office papers, National Archives, Kew Foreign Relations of the United States General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade International Control Commission Indochina Communist Party Independent Labour Party Independence of Malaya Party Joint Chiefs of Staff Joint Intelligence Committee Joint Planning Staff Journal of Southeast Asian Studies Kuomintang Military Assistance Advisory Group Malayan Chinese Association Malayan Communist Party Malayan Indian Congress x

Abbreviations

MNP NATO NCO NSC NUF OSS PKI PMIP PoWs PRC Prem RAF SACSEA SEAC SEATO TCP UMNO UN USA VNQDD WO

Malay Nationalist Party North Atlantic Treaty Organization Non-commissioned officers National Security Council National Unity Front Office of Strategic Services Partei Komunis Indonesia Pan-Malayan Islamic Party Prisoners of war People’s Republic of China Prime Minister’s Office papers, National Archives, Kew Royal Air Force Supreme Allied Command Southeast Asia Southeast Asia Command Southeast Asia Treaty Organization Technical Cooperation Programme United Malays National Organization United Nations United States of America Viet Nam Quoc Dan Dang War Office

xi

List of Maps 1 2 3

Burma Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia and Thailand Malaysia and Indonesia

xii

113 135 244

Introduction

This volume examines the development of British policy in Southeast Asia during a period of approximately twenty years extending from the closing stages of the Pacific War to the time when confrontation with Indonesia over the creation of Malaysia peaked and when military escalation in Vietnam assumed ominous proportions.1 No serious disagreement existed between the principal political parties in Britain in 1945 concerning aims in the region; it was essential to restore British authority, to develop an economic role following the havoc resulting from Japanese occupation, to recognise the new political forces at work, to establish cordial relations with the leaders of new political movements, to help in the attainment of a new stability that would promote the longterm interests of the West and block communism. The right wing of the Conservative party wished to delay departure from colonial territories and the left wing of the Labour party wished to hasten departure but there was no fundamental divergence in the policies pursued by Labour and Conservative governments. In opposition Winston Churchill was free to revel in nostalgia for the old empire, as he deplored Clement Attlee’s policies in the Indian subcontinent and Burma in 1946–48. In government, between 1951 and 1955, Churchill followed the same path as his predecessor and permitted more rapid progress towards independence in Malaya than that contemplated by Attlee. In the earlier part of the postwar era Britain was still a major power, responsible for administering an empire of considerable size and responsible additionally in 1945–46 for assisting in the restoration of French and Dutch rule in their colonial possessions. The United States was preoccupied mainly with Japan and with helping Chiang Kai-shek’s Kuomintang (KMT) regime in China. There was no desire in Washington to become involved significantly in Southeast Asia other than stopping the British 1

2

Contending with Nationalism and Communism

from bullying Thailand and prodding the French and the Dutch into conciliation in Indochina and Indonesia. By 1950, American policy was changing in consequence of the onset of the Cold War in Asia, associated with communist triumph in China and anxiety regarding instability in Southeast Asia. The Korean War propelled America towards an assertive approach to block the perceived ambitions of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), led by Mao Tse-tung. The British approach, illustrated graphically in Anthony Eden’s sharp exchanges with John Foster Dulles in 1954, was to dissuade the United States from overreacting while proceeding with the conclusion of a new defence agreement, leading to the emergence of the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) in 1954–55. The Geneva conference of 1954 was an important watershed; it was the last occasion on which Britain diverged successfully from the United States on a major issue and helped to ensure the adoption of an outcome not favoured in Washington. The Suez crisis in 1956 undermined British influence and its repercussions pushed Harold Macmillan’s government into endorsing American policy in Vietnam, particularly when Macmillan was striving to achieve a close working relationship with John F. Kennedy. However, no British government would consider committing British troops to intervention in Vietnam. The last big challenge facing Britain in 1965 was to secure a satisfactory end to confrontation in Borneo. Britain’s economic predicament convinced Harold Wilson’s government to terminate long-standing political and strategic commitments in Asia except for Hong Kong and the already qualified support for SEATO. The approaching end of empire and the accelerating process of change compelled British ministers and officials to determine how to respond to the emerging forces of nationalism and communism. In his wideranging study, Imagined Communities, Benedict Anderson has written eloquently of the process whereby ambitious elites sought to foster nationalism in the course of demolishing colonial structures, weakened fatally by Japanese occupation between 1942 and 1945.2 The whole of Southeast Asia was affected by the profound effects of the Japanese call for liberation from Western domination, although it was clear that Japanese imperialism had replaced the occidental variety. In Burma, Vietnam and Indonesia pressure was conspicuous and urgent. In Malaya pressure was growing fast; in Cambodia and Laos the pace was slower but demands were voiced by advanced groups. In British Borneo little pressure could be discerned. Thailand was in a unique position, having successfully preserved independence, after making judicious concessions to successive waves of British, French and Japanese imperialisms.

Introduction

3

Thai leaders in 1945 had to grapple with the vengeful aims of British and French officials but they were fortunate in enlisting American sympathy and protection. Circumstances forced Britain into acting as short-term ‘regional policeman’ in 1945–46, a legacy of the creation of the Southeast Asia Command (SEAC) in 1943 and of American determination not to be drawn deeply into intervention in Southeast Asia. Thus in addition to handling challenges in the Indian subcontinent, Burma, Malaya and Borneo, British and Indian forces were deployed in Vietnam and Indonesia in securing Japanese surrender and disarmament. As Ernest Bevin sometimes complained, the whole situation in Asia was far more difficult and complex than anyone could have anticipated when the Pacific War was brought formally to an end in August 1945. Edward Said has written entertainingly and provocatively of the imposition of Western values and priorities in his hugely influential Orientalism.3 Certainly Western leaders wanted to shape the future of Southeast Asia : they aimed to secure governments sympathetic to their political, strategic and economic interests and to thwart communism in its international and indigenous varieties. They believed that this was in the best interests of the peoples of the region: repelling the communist threat, raising living standards via the Colombo Plan and other initiatives and improving governance should ensure stability and progress. As elsewhere in the world, this could connote working with harsh rightwing regimes, sometimes associated with the military: Thailand was the outstanding example in the era examined in this volume. On the whole British governments showed realism in their dealings with the new regimes. Independence was granted to India, Pakistan, Ceylon and Burma in 1947–48, although at huge human cost in the Indian subcontinent and, to a lesser extent, in Burma. Unlike the French and the Dutch, the British realised that to insist on remaining would be futile and bloody: far better to effect swift withdrawal and seek to foster good relations with successor states. Warm relations were established between Britain and India and this continued when the Conservatives regained office. Relations between Britain and Burma were reasonably satisfactory until General Ne Win seized power in 1962. In Malaya British officials cooperated with the United Malays National Organization (UMNO), representing the majority of Malays, to defeat the communist insurrection: this laid the basis for the attainment of independence in 1957. Only in Thailand were serious errors made in the attempt to punish Thailand for supporting Japan through reimposing informal imperialism: these were ended by American pressure and the subsequent growth of American dominance. Singapore was an intractable problem and not

4


one solved by the British: instead, it was resolved by a combination of the steely talents of the mercurial Lee Kuan Yew and the hand of fate. The term ‘Southeast Asia’ was used occasionally before the Pacific war but Japanese militarism was responsible for accelerating awareness of regional identity. Japan was the first power to impose its authority, directly or indirectly, over most of the region between 1942 and 1945. However, Japan’s involvement was an extension of Japanese imperialism in East Asia: Japanese leaders wanted to exploit the economic resources of Southeast Asia and had little interest in fostering the concept of ‘Southeast Asia’ in its own right. Britain and the United States were compelled to respond in devising a suitable framework within which to accomplish the defeat of Japan. Thus SEAC emerged at the Quebec conference in August 1943 with Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten in command and with the American, General Joseph W. Stilwell, as his deputy. The debonair Mountbatten and the curmudgeonly Stilwell were a curious combination: Stilwell’s responsibilities in China meant that he could devote only limited time to SEAC. American interest was focused mainly in the adjoining South-West Pacific Command, headed by General Douglas MacArthur; the sardonic joke circulated by some American military and naval personnel was that the true interpretation of ‘SEAC’ was ‘Save England’s Asiatic Colonies’ (the French and the Dutch were understandably aggrieved). It would be correct to state that officials and planners in London and Ceylon (where SEAC was based) saw ‘Southeast Asia’ both as an entity and as a collection of individual areas with specific problems. The functions of SEAC, as decided at the Potsdam conference in July 1945, embraced securing the surrender of Japanese forces in all parts of the region and for looking after allied Prisoners of wars (PoWs) and civilian internees. The consequence of the expansion of British commitments was that Britain was drawn into the problems surrounding the future of Indochina and Indonesia. Colonial empires were to be resurrected and this slowed down planning across the region. Maintaining rice supplies was vital and British planners thought in terms of the whole region in 1945 and in the immediate postwar era. Therefore wartime experience quickened appreciation of ‘Southeast Asia’ and the term was used frequently in the middle and latter stages of the Pacific War in Whitehall as well as SEAC headquarters. At the end of the Pacific War attention was focused on the region and on individual countries or areas. The appointment of senior officials charged with responsibility for reporting on the problems of Southeast Asia confirmed the recognition in London of developing regional identity. Lord Killearn was despatched in 1946 with the title of special commissioner.

Introduction

5

His task was to consider the challenges facing the region and to make suitable recommendations or representations following consultation with local British officials. Killearn was a career diplomat and he had held important appointments in China and Egypt. He was succeeded by Malcolm MacDonald, appointed originally as governor-general in Malaya and then appointed as high commissioner for Southeast Asia, a position occupied by MacDonald until 1955. MacDonald was a former cabinet minister and the son of a former prime minister; he used his political contacts in the Labour and Conservative parties skilfully but neither Attlee nor Churchill intended elevating MacDonald above his station. The appointments of Killearn and MacDonald were significant in the sense of reinforcing awareness of the common problems in the region but there was no intention of ceding real power to a viceroy based in Singapore. The bulk of the work in the Foreign Office was oriented towards ‘Thailand’, ‘Burma’, ‘Indochina’, ‘the Philippines’ and so on. Awareness of the wider challenges associated with economic hardship and deprivation pointed towards suitable remedial action, particularly if the threats presented by militant nationalism and communism were to be addressed successfully. This explained Ernest Bevin’s growing interest in South and Southeast Asia and his sponsorship of the Colombo Plan. The most obvious examples of organisations seeking to rectify perceived economic, social, political and strategic difficulties were the Colombo Plan and SEATO. However, the Colombo Plan was concerned with South Asia in addition to Southeast Asia and SEATO included among its members only two states belonging to the region plus Pakistan. The Colombo Plan was easily the more successful and long lived; SEATO was important in its early years but then atrophied amidst the reluctance of its members to commit resources and American determination to act independently in Vietnam. In general, British policy-makers believed that it would not be too difficult to achieve a satisfactory accommodation with the forces of nationalism, provided that flexible diplomacy was deployed. They were less confident about the ability of American policy-makers in the 1950s and 1960s: too many Americans were active in Southeast Asia and some alienated the inhabitants. Benedict Anderson has referred aptly to the heavy American emphasis on Thailand ‘Bangkok became the headquarters not only for SEATO, but also for a vast army of overt and clandestine American operations in neighbouring Laos, Cambodia, Burma and Vietnam.’4 One long-running example was American support for KMT soldiers who had retreated from China into Burma in 1949–50 following the communist victory. American intelligence agencies were

6


engaged in supplying the KMT forces, despite pledges to the contrary by the Eisenhower and Kennedy administrations. British officials regarded some American intelligence operatives as loquacious and unreliable. The danger was that nationalists could be drawn into cooperating with communists through sheer exasperation. This could be seen in Vietnam where Ho Chi Minh was supported by noncommunists, as well as communists, because he had established effective leadership in 1945 and the French colonial administration failed to make the necessary concessions to advance the cause of anti-communist forces. The principal British failure in the 1960s occurred in Indonesia where inadequate understanding of the probable Indonesian reaction to the creation of Malaysia was revealed. Communism was seen as the dominant menace from 1948 when the Malayan Communist Party (MCP) launched its rebellion, intended to bring down British rule in Malaya and to replace it with a ‘people’s republic’. Of course, this has to be interpreted in the light of the worsening situation in Europe, as the iron grip of Stalin’s Russia was extended in central and eastern Europe. Was the communist threat in Asia controlled by the Soviet Union as part of a global conspiracy? Such fears were rife and it was argued that the appearance of communist movements in different parts of Southeast Asia was the product of centralised planning in Moscow. Before and after the Bolshevik revolution of 1917 communism was Eurocentric: Lenin regarded Asia as significant primarily because communist agitation in colonial territories could promote revolution in Europe. Stalin saw communist hopes in China suppressed brutally by Chiang Kai-shek in 1927 marking the failure of the endeavours of the Comintern. Thereafter Stalin did not show great interest in Asian communism. Robert Service has argued that Stalin ‘scarcely thought about the colonial countries’ and that the United States did more than the Soviet Union to hasten the disappearance of colonial empires.5 Service believes that Stalin was too concerned with domestic matters and Europe to worry about Southeast Asia. The dynamic contribution to the rise of communism in Asia came, not from Russia, but from China. Mao assumed leadership of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) in 1935 during the ‘Long March’, and produced a fusion of nationalism and communism which carried the CCP to power in 1949; Japanese aggression ironically helped the CCP by discrediting Chiang’s regime. Mao emphasised the revolutionary potential of the peasantry rather than the proletariat and he succeeded in gaining power with the backing of the peasantry.6 The speed of the CCP’s victory surprised everyone in 1948–49 including Stalin. Reappraisals were required globally

Introduction

7

and Stalin probably felt no more enthusiasm than President Truman at the thought of having to deal with a new rival. The Attlee government regarded the proclamation of the PRC, in October 1949, pragmatically. The KMT regime had failed disastrously, despite receiving generous American aid, and the ‘mandate of heaven’ had passed into other hands. Attlee and Bevin held that the customary British rule should be applied: since the communists were effectively in control of most of China, recognition should be extended. In January 1950 this was done, although Britain retained a consulate in Tamsui (Taiwan) which functioned as an unofficial embassy. The United States refused to grant recognition and continued to acknowledge the ‘Republic of China’ based in Taiwan and adjacent islands.7 Participation of the PRC in the Korean conflict exacerbated matters and accentuated the American obsession with ‘Red China’, which lasted until Richard Nixon, improbably, advanced the hand of reconciliation when he visited Mao in Peking in 1972. The British experience in fighting communism directly was gained in Malaya and Singapore, mostly between 1948 and 1957. The rebellion launched by the MCP, amidst confusion over aims, received only limited support and mainly from the Chinese community. Singapore was more combustible and potentially dangerous but divisions among the Chinese weakened the communists and allowed anti-communists to gain ascendancy after a period of turmoil. In Malaya an alliance between the British authorities and the Malays (plus their Chinese and Indian supporters) was forged: it resulted in successful containment of the insurrection. The British were proud of their success and it promoted respect among American officials: this led to the tendering of British advice on counterinsurgency in Vietnam, notably through the contribution of a retired British official, Robert Thompson. The best example of American success in counterinsurgency was in the Philippines in the form of the campaign to defeat the Huk rebellion. Colonel Edward Lansdale played the vital role in assisting Ramon Magsaysay’s strategy and subsequently in helping Magsaysay to win election as president in 1953.8 Lansdale then became involved in the murky politics of Saigon towards the end of the French era and later under Ngo Dinh Diem. The British military mission in Rangoon advised the Burmese government on operations against competing communist rebellions and ethnic revolts: the Burmese army was too weak to achieve significant success and General Ne Win’s resentment of the British handicapped progress. In Laos and Cambodia inept American policies ran counter to the British preference for neutrality and worked in favour of local communist movements, already rendered active by help from the Vietminh.

8


Southeast Asia Treaty Organization was created in 1954: Edward Said has referred to the organisation as attempting to outflank the enemy ‘by playing to the Oriental illogical mind in ways only an Orientalist could devise’. Thus SEATO was an example of the ‘stick-and-carrot technique based on traditional “knowledge” retooled for better manipulation of its supposed object’.9 Only Thailand and the Philippines joined from within the region; Pakistan belonged to South Asia and joined SEATO largely because of its preoccupation with India and Afghanistan and consequent need to enlist support. The United States dominated SEATO with Australia as the next most active member. Treasury pressure and the weakness of the British economy restricted British participation: in addition, British ministers felt that SEATO should not become too vigorous, since this could provoke the communist states, especially China. In the event of overt communist aggression on a significant scale, Britain accepted that nuclear weapons would have to be deployed. American policy in Vietnam confirmed that SEATO was not regarded as a suitable vehicle for pursuing American aims. Perhaps the most important achievement of SEATO was to cement Thailand within the Western camp. Britain had limited influence in Thailand: the Americans dominated the scene. Outside SEATO Britain and the United States worked at times to undermine the regime of President Sukarno, notably and successfully in 1965. They wished to achieve a reduction, if not termination, in confrontation in Borneo and to marginalise the influence of the Indonesian Communist party (PKI). They succeeded and many communists perished during the bloody conflict between army and PKI (October 1965–March 1966). Relations between Britain and members of the Commonwealth over issues relating to Southeast Asia were cordial in the main. Consultations of the long-established character with Canada, Australia and New Zealand continued. South Africa was in the same category until May 1948 when the government headed by General Smuts was defeated in the general election. The new administration, led by Dr D.F. Malan, wished to retain consultation with Britain because of its hatred of communism but Britain was not liked by the new regime. Australia and New Zealand moved closer to the United States in the ANZUS (Australia, New Zealand, United States) treaty in 1951 and Australia assumed a larger role in Southeast Asia. The ‘new Commonwealth’ was very important. Labour and Conservative governments attached much value to the contribution of India and Nehru was warmly regarded. It was held that India could play a constructive part in Cambodia and Laos and help to protect the two states from communism through pursuance

Introduction

9

of neutrality. Relations with Pakistan were broadly satisfactory apart from the problems arising from the troubled relationship between Pakistan and India. Ceylon provided the venue for the meeting which led to the formalisation of the Colombo Plan and relations were good at least until 1956. As regards personalities, Jan Smuts, Robert Menzies and Jawaharlal Nehru were the most important: they all enjoyed close relations with British leaders. Smuts had been centrally involved in the British war effort in London in the latter part of the Great War and David Lloyd George had urged him to transfer from South African to British politics. Menzies was popular in Britain and there has been speculation that he might have contemplated moving into British politics during the Second World War; Menzies dominated Australian politics from 1949 to 1966. Nehru was educated at Harrow, regarded with growing respect in Britain in the principal parties and was in many ways a Fabian socialist.10 Sidney Holland and Walter Nash were liked and the latter is frequently referred to with affection (if at times with exasperation, too) in British records. Louis St Laurent and Lester B. Pearson were deeply respected: Pearson’s prominent role in the UN gave added value to diplomatic consultations. The intention in this volume is to provide a concise analysis of the development of British policy and to include some discussion of each part of Southeast Asia. In order to achieve clarity appropriate to the length, the structure is arranged largely on the basis of individual countries. One chapter compares the Colombo Plan and SEATO as attempts to tackle the broad challenges facing the region. The primary sources comprise principally the records held in the National Archives, Kew, supplemented with references from other British and American collections and published sources. The aim is to examine political, strategic and diplomatic developments with the underlying theme of adjustment to change; the decline and disappearance of colonial empires; emergence of new states and the rise of American and Chinese power. British power was far stronger in the first half of the period discussed, between 1945 and 1955. The Geneva conference of 1954 marked the transition: the United States had played a limited role in the decade after the end of the Pacific War but in the ensuing decade American might expanded rapidly. At the point where this study ends, the United States was in the process of sending a large army to Vietnam, totalling over 500,000 by 1968. In 1954, Anthony Eden was the most important leader attending and dominating the Geneva conference; during the Vietnam War, a decade or so later, Britain was on the periphery with Harold Wilson launching ineffectual bids to achieve a peaceful solution. Change was

10 Contending with Nationalism and Communism

sometimes rapid, sometimes gradual. Rapidity is illustrated in 1945 as the full impact of the transformation effected by Japanese occupation was revealed with the abrupt termination of the Pacific War following Emperor Hirohito’s decision to surrender. In fact it was impossible to end the war promptly: large numbers of Japanese soldiers were present in much of Southeast Asia and on numerous Pacific islands. Some were independent agents until well into 1946, although under nominal SEAC control. Burma, Vietnam and Indonesia experienced swift change. Britain decided to leave Burma and negotiated independence in 1946–47. France negotiated with Ho Chi Minh in 1946 but the talks collapsed and war ensued. The Netherlands negotiated with Indonesian leaders but it would not make concessions big enough to attain a solution. The rapid, if erratically executed, establishment of Malaysia in 1963 represented change of bewildering character for some of those involved, not least for the inhabitants of the Borneo territories. Britain wanted to extricate itself from deep involvement in Southeast Asia for political and economic reasons and Malaysia offered the prospect of solving dilemmas in Singapore, British Borneo, possibly Brunei, simultaneously while enhancing the regional importance of Malaya. Unfortunately the Indonesian reaction was underestimated seriously and this led to confrontation. Just as Britain was entangled in the jungles of Borneo, the United States became deeply entangled in Vietnam. For Britain the story concluded satisfactorily with the consolidation of Malaysia minus Singapore but the latter established its independence tenaciously and successfully. For the United States commitment to Vietnam ended disastrously in 1975 and at huge cost for all concerned. Despite the bloodshed and suffering in much of the region, Southeast Asia moved slowly towards closer cooperation on a regional basis: the roots of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) extended back to the initiatives of the Colombo Plan. Where this study closes, Southeast Asia was on the brink of moving into the postcolonial era, which was to denote a new selfconfidence, vigour and prosperity for parts of the region; sadly this did not extend to the whole of the region, as poverty and degradation in Burma demonstrated. I decided to close this study in 1965 for several reasons. Malaysia was established successfully and Singapore began to develop as an independent state. Confrontation with Indonesia persisted but the bloody internal conflict within Indonesia in the final months of 1965 marked a sharp decline in the authority of Sukarno and the gradual development of better relations between Britain and Indonesia. In Vietnam the United States was committed ever more deeply in military intervention: it was not feasible for me to cover the course of

Introduction

11

the Vietnam War to 1973 or 1975 without distorting the purpose of the volume, so I decided that it was most appropriate to end in 1965. I hope that this meets with the approval of readers. In my previous writings I have concentrated largely on analysing British policy in East Asia, focusing on Japan, China and Korea, at different times during the twentieth century. I have discussed Southeast Asia to some extent in a general survey covering the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and in an edited volume dealing with the Vietnam War. In this volume I am examining British policy in Southeast Asia during a period of approximately twenty years beginning with the concluding stages of the Pacific War: the intention is to provide perspective on a comparative basis in the light of the evidence found in the archives consulted.

1 The Return of Colonialism, 1945–48

As the Pacific War came to a dramatic conclusion in August 1945, British policy-makers faced the daunting challenges of achieving the restoration of order and stability in Southeast Asia. Clearly the problems were formidable but in the event they turned out to be even more difficult than anticipated in Whitehall or in Mountbatten’s headquarters in Kandy.1 Fundamental to everything were the profound repercussions of Japanese occupation. The huge Japanese victories between December 1941 and May 1942 discredited Western colonialism irretrievably: British, Dutch and American forces experienced humiliating defeat although the French administration in Indochina contrived to preserve tenuous authority until March 1945. The Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere, as implemented by Japan between 1942 and 1945, represented the imposition of Japanese imperialism rather than liberation: most Japanese were interested primarily in exploitation of Southeast Asia for economic and military purposes.2 At the same time Japanese policy was designed to complete the demolition of occidental imperialism and to eradicate it permanently. If the unthinkable happened and Japan suffered defeat, then Japan must do all possible to ensure that the Western powers could not return with any prospect of remaining for long. Nationalism was stimulated enormously and the colonial authorities faced a very different world from the one they had known before 1941. Political skills of a high order were called for at metropolitan and local levels to achieve the correct blend of conciliation and firmness. These were, in the main, conspicuous in their absence rather than presence. Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten, head of the Southeast Asia Command (SEAC), was one of the few to grasp the full extent of change in Asia.3 Ministers in Whitehall were usually preoccupied with other urgent matters and did not devote sufficient time to studying the rapidly changing situation. Ernest Bevin, 12

The Return of Colonialism, 1945–48

13

foreign secretary from July 1945 to March 1951, revealed perception, as did the prime minister, Clement Attlee: Bevin appreciated the importance of improving living standards and he contributed significantly to the emergence of the Colombo Plan in 1950–51.4 Attlee intervened in 1946–47 to bring about a new, progressive policy in Burma. However, administrators showed inadequate grasp of the extent of change and this enabled tension to increase.

Malaya Before the Pacific War British administration in Malaya was relatively loose in structure reflecting the process of gradual establishment of dominance in the Malayan peninsula in the later nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Malaya was divided into the Federated States, the Unfederated States, Singapore and the Straits Settlements.5 The sultans were retained and British power was exercised through accredited agents under the overall authority of the governor. The principal communities were the Malays, Chinese, Indians and indigenous peoples. Chinese and Indian immigration was encouraged to facilitate economic development. Malays came to fear that they would be undermined and supplanted by the Chinese. Down to the outbreak of war in Europe, in September 1939, it was assumed that Britain would be able to maintain power without difficulty. Nationalism was growing slowly among Malays and it was deemed unlikely that a serious challenge from Malays would occur in the near future. Among Chinese nationalism was developing, influenced by events in China following the revolution of 1911–12. The Kuomintang (KMT Nationalist) party established branches in Malaya and was regarded with suspicion by British officials. Communism attracted the support of younger Chinese; the Malayan Communist Party (MCP) was created in 1930. Confidence that the potential communist threat could be contained was strengthened through the success of British intelligence in turning the leader of MCP, Lai Tek, into a British agent.6 The biggest menace was, of course, Japan but the likelihood of Japanese troops descending was dismissed until shortly before the start of the war. The surrender of Singapore, on 15 February 1942, was the most ominous date in the history of the British Empire since the surrender of the American colonies in 1781. British prestige could not be restored to the prewar level. Japan concentrated on economic exploitation and did not grant even the nominal independence extended to Burma and the Philippines in 1943.7 Malay nationalism was encouraged, provided that it did not jeopardise Japanese control. The Chinese were regarded with

14


deep hostility: the atrocities committed against Chinese of both sexes and all ages were appalling. Indians were better treated, since Japan wished to foster nationalism and stimulate support from Indian dissidents, notably in the Indian National Army, led by Subhas Chandra Bose.8 The savagery of Japanese rule alienated most in Malaya by 1945 and there was a predisposition to accept British return, provided that the British could implement efficient administration. Until the dropping of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, on 6 and 9 August 1945, SEAC envisaged that it would be necessary to invade the Malayan peninsula. Fortunately this was avoided: invasion would have been fiercely resisted by Japanese troops and losses among Commonwealth forces would have been heavy. Mountbatten and SEAC personnel applauded the abrupt end to the war on 15 August with the announcement of Japanese surrender.9 Reassessments in the Colonial Office during the war pointed to the desirability of adopting a tighter structure, based on union rather than federation. Edward Gent commented in May 1943 full restoration of the pre-war constitutional and administrative system will be undesirable in the interests of efficiency and security and of our declared purpose of promoting self-government in Colonial territories. The first of these requires a closer union of the territories comprising the relatively small area of the Malay Peninsula: and the second requires that self-government should not merely develop towards a system of autocratic rule by the Malay Sultans but should provide for a growing participation in the Government by the people of all the domiciled communities in Malaya, subject to a special recognition of the need to preserve the political, economic and social rights of the Malay race.10 Gent continued that a single united authority combining the settlements of Penang and Malacca with the rest of the peninsula should be created. The current treaties with the Malay rulers would have to be amended to reflect the change in policy, keeping in mind particularly extension in the power of jurisdiction of the British government. Singapore was separated from the other Straits Settlements and was administered separately under a British governor. This decision confirmed the strategic value of Singapore, one of the lessons painfully learned from the experiences of dealing with Japan between 1940 and 1945. The large Chinese population in Singapore rendered it invidious to contemplate merger with Malaya and it was determined that


15

Singapore was best administered discretely, at least until Malaya had advanced closer to self-government. Singapore was regarded as a vital base and political-strategic headquarters for Britain in the era discussed in this volume. Following Japanese surrender British military administration began and ended in March 1946. Military rule was required in the short term to disarm Japanese forces; however, it came to be associated with incompetence and corruption.11 Preparations in the political sphere proceeded in accordance with the principles stated by Gent. On 3 September the Attlee cabinet discussed a memorandum submitted by the colonial secretary. In order to apply the new policy of centralisation, it would be necessary to send an emissary, charged with convincing the sultans that they should relinquish their powers in favour of the crown. It was decided to send Sir Harold MacMichael to Malaya to secure the requisite concessions.12 He had not previously dealt with Malayan affairs. ‘Old Malay hands’, now usually resident in Britain, were highly critical of the new policy and did not favour revising the treaties with the sultans. They were vocal in expressing dissent in 1945–46: one prominent critic was the nonagenarian, Sir Frank Swettenham, who had played an important part in expanding British authority in the nineteenth century.13 MacMichael adopted a tough line in his exchanges with the sultans and made clear that their adhesion to the new treaties was imperative. He was enthusiastic in urging the new approach while conceding ‘that I am hampered by ignorance of conditions of the past’.14 His admission would return to haunt him. He succeeded in persuading or coercing the sultans to sign but discontent simmered and erupted in 1946. Opposition was organised by articulate Malays who resented the pressure applied; however, the groundswell of criticism was also directed at the sultans for having surrendered to British blackmail.15 H.T. Bourdillon of the Colonial Office observed ‘I think we must admit a genuine and fairly widespread Malay revulsion against the White Paper’, which he attributed to misunderstanding. He emphasised that the most objectionable feature for Malays concerned citizenship: the contemplated extension to include Chinese was perceived as a fundamental threat to Malay society. The vehemence with which opposition was voiced compelled an architect of the new policy, Gent, to recommend a change in policy. He reported from Kuala Lumpur ‘I want to assure you of my personal regret that I have had to form the conclusion that almost universal Malay political opinion here gives no basis for expecting effective operation of constitution on Union basis of present Orders-in-Council.’16 He added that the rulers were shaken by the militancy revealed. There were signs

16


of disaffection among rank and file policemen. Problems were likely to escalate. Gent favoured replacing union with a federal arrangement, which would probably prove acceptable to Malay opinion. Debates in Malaya and London continued into 1947. Malay opposition to union and citizenship was voiced fervently by the United Malays National Organization (UMNO) and the Malay Nationalist Party (MNP). The most important individual in mobilising Malay opinion was Dato Onn bin Jaa’far. Onn was an adopted son of the sultan of Johore and had served as a senior administrator. Onn was able, mercurial and articulate; he played a key role until 1951, after which his career went into decline. Onn wrote to Gent, in February 1947, remarking that Malay opinion was becoming restless and was ‘highly suspicious of the motives and sincerity of the British Government’.17 It was essential to reach a decision soon and to carry Malays along in the new direction. Gent had inquired whether there was a possibility of UMNO cooperating with the MNP. Onn applied tactical pressure in observing that this had not occurred so far but it might materialise if the British government vacillated – ‘I cannot conceal from you that the Malays will undoubtedly swing into a coalition with parties definitely antiBritish if only because of frustration and despair at British hypocrisy.’18 It was obvious that Britain would have to devise proposals for a federation that would satisfy the Malays and, in consequence, accept that the Chinese and Indians living in Malaya would not be content with the reversion to accepting Malay primacy. Revised proposals were published in July 1947 and it elicited the anticipated protests from the Chinese community. Malcolm MacDonald, the governor-general based in Singapore, reported to Arthur Creech Jones, the colonial secretary, in November 1947 that much agitation had manifested itself among the Chinese; prominent in demonstrations was the venerable Tan Cheng Lock who was seeking to persuade the Associated Chinese Chambers of Commerce to endorse protest.19 Colonel H.S. Lee represented moderate Chinese opinion and MacDonald was engaged in exchanges with him to achieve Chinese acquiescence. MacDonald underlined the vital aspect: ‘it is, of course, extremely important that we should do nothing to alienate the Malays’. 20 Eventually the Attlee government decided that constitutional deliberations could not be extended further: it was essential to restore stability, if possible through the implementation of a new constitution. At a plenary conference, held on 20–21 January 1948, Gent, on behalf of King George VI, and the sultans signed state agreements, which cancelled the treaties imposed by MacMichael and ushered in a new federal


17

structure. Gent described the ceremony thus: ‘We had tremendous fun and games here yesterday with the signing of the State and Federation Agreements ... and it took about two hours with everyone dressed up to the nines and the Malays looking most magnificent and myself a picture of purity in my white uniform. The whole show was accompanied by a Hollywood atmosphere of brilliant lights and movie-cameras.’21 British policy demonstrated pragmatism: Malaya was making a major contribution to the British economy and it was imperative to placate the potentially most dangerous opponents of change. However, Gent’s tone of elation represented too sanguine an assessment. As Tim Harper has explained in his admirable study of the end of empire in Malaya, the situation was combustible because of a combination of political, economic, social and cultural change experienced by Malaya between 1941 and 1948.22 Malaya was entering an era of rapid transformation and this could be exploited in various ways; equally those seeking to fulfil the exploitation were themselves prisoners of the wider crisis, which was to lead to the communist insurrection. Freedom of debate was one of the interesting characteristics of the immediate postwar era in Malaya: as Harper has remarked, for a brief period men and women enjoyed a degree of freedom to speak and act not experienced before 1945 and not to be enjoyed again after 1948, as the scope of the coercive state expanded in response to the communist rebellion and acquired powers of arrest and detention retained by Malaya/Malaysia after 1957.23 One aspect of importance was the impact of events in Indonesia, which will be explored later in this chapter. Security personnel in Malaya feared the growth of Pan-Malayan sentiment, pointing to the emergence of a greater Indonesia to include Malaya. The MNP included members who were passionately committed to support for Indonesia; the MNP comprised members of diverse views, ranging from secular nationalists to committed Islamists. When MacDonald returned home on leave at the beginning of 1948, he reviewed this topic with officials in the Colonial Office. He told Bourdillon that the Dutch police action of June 1947 against Indonesian republicans had not led to as much reaction as he had feared. MacDonald stressed his sympathy for moderate nationalism in Indonesia: he established a good relationship with a former Indonesian prime minister, Sutan Sjahrir, and was reassured by his attitude. Sjahrir did not want Malaya to become involved in the Indonesian struggle.24 MacDonald added that Onn was contemplating a future federation of Malaya and British Borneo, interestingly anticipating the creation of Malaysia. MacDonald spoke of Britain’s future role in Southeast Asia. It was essential to demonstrate sympathy


and support for moderate nationalist movements in Asia: he ‘felt that the whole future of Britain in Asia might depend on the attitude we adopted towards them’.25 Britain was currently regarded as progressive because of policies pursued in the Indian subcontinent, Ceylon and Burma; while Britain should maintain amicable relations with France and the Netherlands, it was most important that Britain should not align itself with these countries against the legitimate aspirations of peoples in Indochina and Indonesia. MacDonald was apprehensive of Dutch inability to compromise: the Dutch were ‘in an ugly mood’ and motivated by vindictive feelings. By way of limited reassurance he added that events in Indochina had not affected Malaya at all.26

Burma Unlike Malaya Burma suffered from almost continuous conflict between the beginning of 1942 and the conclusion of the Pacific War. British, Indian, Australian, New Zealand, Gurkha, African, Chinese and Japanese troops fought in Burma.27 The triumphant Japanese were at last defeated in 1945 by the ‘forgotten’ fourteenth army led by Lt General Sir William Slim. Burma was devastated and divided. A British administration in exile functioned during the war based in the Indian hill station of Simla. The prewar governor, Sir Reginald Dorman-Smith, moved from Rangoon to Simla, accompanied by British officials and a small number of Burmese loyalists. Dorman-Smith had served briefly as a Conservative cabinet minister before accepting office in Rangoon. He was well intentioned but lacked perception of the speed with which the situation was evolving in response to Japanese occupation. As Christopher Thorne pointed out, Dorman-Smith appreciated the necessity for Burma to advance constitutionally and he was involved in acrimonious exchanges with the prime minister, Winston Churchill, who could not comprehend why it was important to conciliate opinion in Burma.28 But Dorman-Smith was not as astute as Mountbatten and Slim when it came to assessing the realities of Burmese politics in 1945. He regarded those who had collaborated with the Japanese as traitors and he had no wish to work with them. In contrast Mountbatten and Slim realised that it was essential to move on recognising that Aung San, U Nu and Ne Win were determined to secure independence swiftly. They changed sides early in 1945, disillusioned by the brutality and rapacity of Japanese imperialism and discerning that it was now probable that the British would return for a limited period. Aung San emerged as the charismatic leader of the Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League


19

(AFPFL), am umbrella organisation created to unite Burmese in the final struggle for independence. Aung San was only 30 years of age, a former radical student, attracted by Marxism, who had joined the small army, established by the Japanese to lend credibility to the supposedly independent regime headed by Ba Maw.29 In the latter part of 1944 Aung San contacted the British and indicated that he was prepared to switch sides, a move accomplished in March 1945. He impressed Mountbatten and Slim: the latter concluded that Aung San could turn out to be ‘a Burmese Smuts’ referring to the distinguished prime minister of South Africa who had fought against the British between 1899 and 1902 and later became a staunch advocate of friendship with Britain.30 Aung San was given the temporary rank of major-general in the British army but he then decided to end his military career to enter full-time politics. Slim’s assessment was accurate: the tragedy was that Dorman-Smith and other reactionaries did not share the insight displayed by Mountbatten and Slim. A degree of confusion was probably unavoidable in the formulation of policy, amidst the continuing bloodshed and the greater priority accorded to other areas. In Simla Dorman-Smith reacted negatively to the emergence of Aung San on centre stage. In May 1945, he reported to London that a decisive approach was required to impress the peoples of Burma: the minorities with whom Britain had traditionally cooperated, would be alienated if the British government treated Aung San favourably.31 By contrast Major-General P. Walshe wrote that ‘Slim considers help already given by BNA has gone long way towards expiation of political crimes.’32 The latter were seized on by critics in Simla to argue that Aung San should be put on trial for alleged war crimes including murder. Mountbatten had already clashed with Major-General C.E. Pearce over the treatment of those who had switched loyalties. Mountbatten wrote indignantly to Major-General Hubert Rance (later to succeed DormanSmith as governor) that he was ‘astounded’ at a deliberate attempt to sabotage his policy concerning Aung San. Mountbatten did not rule out the possibility of placing Aung San on trial if compelling evidence emerged but he emphasised that he would not tolerate political persecution proposed by reactionaries.33 Matters improved somewhat when Rance replaced Pearce. Mountbatten revealed realism when he observed that Burma could not be treated as a colony for another 100 years – ‘You and I at least have the satisfaction, when history comes to be written in a few years time, of being proved absolutely right.’34 Mountbatten was determined to proceed with progressive policies for as long as military administration lasted. However, Dorman-Smith

20


wished to resume his active governorship as soon as possible and wrote to Mountbatten in August to say that he would resign if the Attlee government decided to extend military administration.35 Mountbatten offered Aung San a senior post in the army with the title of deputy inspector-general; he would be expected to advise the inspector-general on developments.36 Aung San replied warmly but stated that he had decided to terminate his military career to concentrate on politics.37 Mountbatten recommended that the British administration should cooperate with the leaders of the AFPFL in seeking to resolve the numerous problems facing Burma. Dorman-Smith moved in the opposite direction: he reported to Lord Pethick-Lawrence, the elderly secretary of state, that he had reached the ‘parting of the ways’ with AFPFL leaders and that he intended insisting on his constitutional rights regarding allocation of portfolios. He made it very clear that he did not wish to work with Aung San: ‘I am firmly of opinion that only Burman leader who could get real grip on situation is Saw, provided he is fit, and I would welcome his return.’38 U Saw was a prominent politician in the 1930s and he had served as prime minister between 1939 and 1941. He was detained in Uganda during the Pacific War after he was discovered to have been in contact with German agents while visiting Portugal in 1941. Saw was clever but extremely unscrupulous. He detested Aung San and resented his ascendancy; Saw’s obsession led him to plot the assassination of Aung San in July 1947 and in consequence led him to the gallows in the following year. One of the serious problems facing Britain in Burma concerned past and present obligations to the minorities, especially to the Karen. Throughout British rule British officials relied on Karen, Kachin, Chin and other minorities to provide men for the army. Ties were particularly close with the Karen who occupied parts of eastern and southern Burma. Some had been converted to Christianity, often by American Protestant missionaries, and this strengthened mutual loyalties between Karen and British.39 Civil and military administrators working in the Karen hills developed profound affection for them. The Karen believed that their loyalty to Britain would be rewarded with formal acknowledgement of their autonomous status and they would be given protection from possible future repression from the Burman majority. They received encouragement during the war when some of the Karen cooperated with Force 136 against the Japanese. Atrocities were committed against the Karen during the Japanese occupation and tension increased; Aung San and the AFPFL were viewed with suspicion or animosity. The delicate question of British obligation complicated


21

negotiations over independence in 1946–47 and persisted as a subject of controversy long after Burma became independent. Supporters of the Karen cause represented diverse political opinion in Britain. One vocal advocate was Frank Owen, a prominent journalist and a former Liberal MP (and a Liberal parliamentary candidate during the 1950s). Owen edited the SEAC forces magazine during the war; he was closely associated with Lords Rothermere and Beaverbrook and he later published a biography of David Lloyd George.40 A number of right-wing Conservatives supported Karen representations. Winston Churchill remained a firm advocate of empire and he opposed Attlee’s policy in Burma. Churchill was the prisoner of his long-held prejudices but eventually he proved capable of modifying his views. Soon after retiring as prime minister, in 1955, Churchill agreed to meet the Burmese prime minister, U Nu, who admired his achievements: he agreed to have his photograph taken with Nu and then conceded that he had been too negative in his approach in the 1940s.41 Dorman-Smith interpreted his task in terms of achieving gradual political progress, which would include fulfilling Britain’s obligations to the minorities; he regarded the AFPFL with considerable suspicion. The defects with this approach were that the pace of change was accelerating and the Attlee government wished to extricate Britain from Burma in the near future. The best Britain could hope to achieve was a negotiated solution, providing for a democratic system incorporating suitable recognition of the rights of minorities. This necessitated bringing all concerned into negotiations and relying on the leaders of the AFPFL appreciating the urgency of carrying the minorities along in a positive spirit. Given recent history and continuing suspicion, this was demanding a great deal. Political leadership of skill and originality was imperative. Aung San was the only leader possessing these qualities. He was a young man of vision combined with remarkable charisma. Aung San appreciated the importance of conciliation and of ensuring that all the peoples of Burma worked together in a common cause. Whether Aung San could have attained such a solution will always remain a matter of speculation, given his bloody removal from the scene in July 1947. What can be said is that he advanced some way towards his objective and that he was the only person capable of attaining an outcome that would have reconciled the Burmans and the minorities successfully. His legacy is underlined in the courageous role played by his daughter, Aung San Suu Kyi, in leading the democratic movement against military despotism.42 The issue of British obligations to the Karen loomed larger from the end of 1945, as the pace quickened under pressure from the AFPFL.

22


Sir San C. Po, a prominent Karen spokesman, wrote to Dorman-Smith in December, reminding the governor that the Karen had loyally supported the British for many years and Karen lives had been forfeited. He envisaged the creation of a federal state, a ‘United States of Burma’.43 On 20 January 1946, Aung San delivered an address under the shadow of the Shwedagon pagoda in Rangoon. He remarked on the emotion he felt in holding a momentous meeting in such a legendary setting. Burma must escape from the yoke of imperialism and the struggle for independence must be pursued vigorously. Aung San expressed his profound gratitude for the faith placed in him by those who wished him to provide leadership. He warned against putting excessive emphasis on one leader: the peoples of Burma should not make ‘a fetish of this cult of hero-worship’.44 The AFPFL must repudiate fascism and capitalism and work to achieve a state based on socialism and democracy. It was necessary to oppose the reactionary policy of Dorman-Smith and compel change in British policy. The government in London did not understand how rapidly the political situation was changing. PethickLawrence informed Dorman-Smith that he had consulted Attlee and they concurred that the government could not discriminate in favour of the AFPFL. It would be preferable to make progress in negotiations in Rangoon before meeting AFPFL delegates in London.45 Dorman-Smith was contemplating the arrest of Aung San in connection with wartime allegations against him. Mountbatten had by now relinquished responsibility for Burma but he retained a close interest in its developments. He wrote to Dorman-Smith on 26 March 1946, commenting that the case against Aung San was ambiguous and it was important to look to the future – ‘I wish to go on record that I consider the arrest of Aung San at the present time the greatest disservice which could be done towards the future relationship of Burma within the British Empire.’46 The threat of widespread unrest deterred DormanSmith from proceeding against the AFPFL; the British military warned the governor that it would not be feasible for the army to guarantee maintenance of law and order.47 Confidence in Dorman-Smith declined sharply in London during April 1946 and Attlee demonstrated his capacity for acting ruthlessly. The prime minister notified Pethick-Lawrence by telegram (the secretary of state was in Simla) that he had received another lengthy, incoherent telegram from Dorman-Smith: ‘It is obvious that he has lost his grip. He changes his position from day to day and has no clear policy. I am convinced he must be replaced ... Subject to your views I propose to recall him for consultation at once.’48 Attlee instructed Dorman-Smith to return and he was replaced by Sir Henry


23

Knight, an experienced senior official in India, despatched as acting governor. Dorman-Smith was reluctant to return, perhaps anticipating the outcome of a meeting with Attlee.49 Any question of placing Aung San on trial was eliminated by Attlee.50 The prime minister accepted Mountbatten’s advice that the British government had, in effect, condoned Aung San’s actions when accepting his transfer of political loyalty in March 1945.51 Mountbatten was influential in the appointment of the new governor, Sir Hubert Rance. He was characteristically trenchant in advice to Rance that he should not apologise for the abrupt removal of Dorman-Smith: intelligent people in Burma ‘know that Reggie’s idiotic and vacillating policy was the worst piece of work ever done for Burma and that his illness is the merest excuse to sack a glaring failure!!!’52 Rance faced a deteriorating situation when he reached Rangoon in September 1946. He wrote to Pethick-Lawrence that the mess in Burma resulted from failure to take the peoples of Burma into Britain’s confidence: ‘I will confess that I am aghast at the action we have taken in the past running this country ... Anyhow, whatever the causes, we are in one big morass here which has to be cleared.’53 Aung San was ill at home and anxious to meet Rance: the latter agreed to visit him privately.54 Their discussion was cordial and Rance assured Aung San that Britain desired rapid progress. Aung San lamented the blunders committed in executing British policy during the preceding year..55 Rumours of a communist rising alarmed Rance and Aung San. An attempt to assassinate U Saw was made, which Saw attributed to youth members of AFPFL. A Karen mission visited London to press the case for further concessions. Kachin leaders voiced similar aspirations for the creation of a distinct Kachin state.56 Rance was concerned to keep the AFPFL within the Council in Rangoon. One fundamental issue was whether Burma would remain within the Commonwealth upon securing independence. Aung San requested that an undertaking analogous to that reached with Indian leaders should be agreed, that is that Burma should be free to determine the question when the time for independence approached.57 Pethick-Lawrence recommended to cabinet colleagues that the government should go as far as it could to compromise with Aung San and to accept that Burma should be free to decide Commonwealth membership.58 The cabinet agreed; Creech Jones emphasised that the legitimate concerns of the hill tribes and the Shan States should be addressed in the course of devising a constitution.59 Attlee made a statement in the House of Commons on 20 December 1946. A representative group from the governor’s executive council was invited to visit London. The government wanted Burma to advance


rapidly towards independence. Attlee repeated the statement he had made with reference to India which he now applied to Burma: ‘We do not desire to retain within the Commonwealth and Empire any unwilling peoples.’60 Churchill spoke sardonically remarking that Lord Chatham’s administration was noted for the observation that one had to rise very early in the morning to identify the additions to the empire: the administration headed by Attlee ‘is distinguished for the opposite set of experiences. The British Empire seems to be running off almost as fast as the American loan’.61 Attlee’s statement showed that he had taken decisive command, aiming to make up for time lost in 1945–46. In a personal sense Aung San believed that it would be better for Burma to belong to the Commonwealth but he was compelled to recognize reality: the bulk of informed opinion favoured Burma becoming an independent republic outside the Commonwealth and he had to accept this preference. Thakin Nu, a close associate of Aung San, told Rance on 17 June 1947 that Burma wanted ‘the most friendly relations with Britain’; this followed passage of a resolution in the constituent assembly that Burma should become a republic.62 Rance spoke further to Nu on the following day. Nu recalled ‘that Stalin had proclaimed to Professor Laski when the latter was leading a British delegation in Russia that there were only two roads which Socialism could follow. These were the Russian road and the British road. Nu agreed with Stalin’s remark and added that he and his colleagues were convinced that the British road was the right one to follow’.63 Nu added that Burma must guard independence effectively and in this context he was apprehensive of American interest in securing mineral rights in the Shan States. Nu described the Shan princes as mostly corrupt; he alleged that the American consul general was meddling in the affairs of the Shan States.64 Burma appeared to be advancing fairly steadily towards independence in June 1947 building on agreements concluded during the visit of a Burmese delegation to London at the beginning of 1947 and the concessions made by Aung San in the Panglong agreement, negotiated with Shan, Kachin and Chin leaders in February 1947.65 Rance commented that the Panglong agreement was satisfactory as far as it went but certain of the minorities were not represented in Panglong and this included peoples dwelling in the Naga hills, southern Chin, Wa States and Karenni States. The Karen had not been placated and Karen opposition would be vocal.66 At this critical time, when a trusted leader was needed to carry Burma to independence, Aung San was brutally removed from power and life in the summer of 1947: indications of plotting against Aung San involving


25

certain British nationals emerged. Aung San told the Rangoon correspondent of the Daily Mail in April that the ‘British minority’ was still ‘plotting’.67 On 16 July, Aung San informed Rance that on 24 June the base ordnance depot of Burma command had issued 200 Bren guns to persons unknown; those receiving the guns pretended to be policemen. Considerable quantities of ammunition had also been stolen. Aung San commented that reactionary British nationals wanted to bring about a change in administration so that Burma would accept dominion status within the Commonwealth.68 On 19 July, as the executive council was meeting, a jeep with 12th army markings drew up outside the building. Five armed men entered the building, burst into the meeting and assassinated six of those present including Aung San.69 The situation was extremely tense and prompt action was required by the governor. Rance requested Thakin Nu to succeed Aung San and to head a new executive council: Nu agreed to do so.70 Investigations quickly established that U Saw was central to the plotting. The police discovered large quantities of arms hidden in a lake behind U Saw’s house concealed in airtight tins and thus all dry.71 Rance reported that some British army officers had apparently participated in plotting. Understandably suspicions of British motives were high: inadequate efforts were made to investigate earlier reports of thefts of arms and ammunition. The army and police had not coordinated inquiries.72 Attlee and Anthony Eden spoke in the Commons on 23 July and expressed deep regret at the news of the assassinations. Tom Driberg, the maverick left-wing Labour MP, who had good sources of information, accused the Conservatives of encouraging opponents of Aung San in Burma. Eden denied the allegation and Attlee remarked that no one would believe that the Conservatives had been involved in plotting.73 Nu handled his new responsibilities capably. In a speech delivered on 27 July he explained and endorsed Aung San’s strategy for obtaining independence peacefully. He said that the Attlee government was pursuing a progressive policy and it should be supported. In the circumstances Nu was generous in his description of Great Britain as the ‘one nation with the stature to lead the world intellectually and morally’.74 Inquiries by the police and the army were conducted urgently and produced evidence of involvement by a small number of British army officers, working with U Saw.75 Lord Listowel, now secretary of state, wrote to Attlee expressing anxiety regarding the activities of some British officers and underlining concern at incompetence of army authorities in investigating thefts of arms and ammunition.76 Dorman-Smith wrote to Listowel expressing respect for U Saw and stated willingness to give evidence on his behalf. He had found Saw


to be a good friend and a wise adviser.77 The letter certainly confirmed Mountbatten’s dismissive assessment of ‘Reggie’. Rance and Nu cooperated closely and the crisis was surmounted successfully. On 29 August, a defence agreement was signed between the British government and the provisional administration in Rangoon. This constituted the basis for the subsequent presence of a British military mission in Rangoon.78 Karen leaders intensified their pressure for concessions, amounting to a demand for a distinct Karen state. Listowel visited Burma and told an assembled group of Karen leaders on 8 September that Britain desired a positive outcome to negotiations between the Karen and the Burmese administration. However, it was clear to Listowel that there was no prospect of reconciling divergent views; he emphasised that the British government could not interfere in the internal affairs of Burma once independence had been granted.79 Formal agreement was reached in London in October 1947 and a treaty was concluded between the British government and the provisional government of Burma.80 After Burmese deliberations on the ‘most auspicious date’ for independence, it was agreed that Burma would become independent on 4 January 1948. The debate in the House of Commons in November 1947 revealed considerable goodwill for Burma; it was clear that Churchill did not enjoy much support in his lament at the passing of empire..81 Those accused of responsibility for the assassination of Aung San and his colleagues were put on trial, found guilty and sentenced to death; U Saw was said to have responded impassively to the imposition of the death penalty.82 Rance reflected in the Visitors’ Book of the Shwedagon, on the eve of independence Its beauty and serenity delights the eye. May I hope that its peaceful atmosphere is maintained to the fullness of time. The memory of this day will be forever in my mind ... This is my last message to Burma: may peace and friendship forever be maintained between Burma and Great Britain. In the years to come, if I can be of any help, I hope that my friends in this country will not fail to call on me.83 On 4 January 1948, Burma became an independent republic outside the Commonwealth. In a message to the peoples of Burma, Thakin Nu referred to the huge challenges facing Burma: ‘There is no room for disunity or discord – racial, communal, political or personal – and I now call upon all citizens of the Burma Union to unite and to labour without regard to self and in the interests of the country to which we all belong.’84 The appeal was not to be heeded.


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Indochina Britain had to some extent intervene in the tangled politics of French administration in Indochina before the start of the Pacific War. The collapse of the Third Republic in June 1940 rendered the predicament of the significant French colony most invidious. General de Gaulle’s repudiation of the Vichy regime, headed by the ancient Marshal Petain, divided French men and women, although most initially accepted Vichy with varying degrees of resignation or enthusiasm.85 While Britain wished to encourage de Gaulle, it was not in Britain’s interests to cause trouble in Indochina, since this could precipitate a Japanese takeover.86 As it was, Japan advanced into Indochina in two stages, in September 1940 and July 1941. Since Petain’s regime was collaborating with Nazi Germany, Japan could not oust the French entirely, in addition to which Japan did not wish to antagonise the United States prematurely. The Japanese military required freedom to operate and accepted continuation of the French administration: this remained the position until late in the Pacific War when the Japanese brutally ejected the French in March 1945. The Japanese impact in Indochina was as profound as elsewhere in Southeast Asia. Indochina was an artificial creation of French rule: the French brought together Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos, although the latter assumed tangible form as ‘Laos’ only after the Pacific War. France retained the local monarchies, aiming to exploit pliable emperors or kings for ulterior purposes. Vietnam proved difficult to assimilate and nationalism manifested itself in various forms in the twentieth century. Politically the main challenges came from the Viet Nam Quoc Dan Dang (VNQDD) and the Indochina Communist Party (ICP). The VNQDD was inspired by the precedent of the Kuomintang in China: it was savagely suppressed by the French following an abortive rising in 1930. The ICP was established in 1930: it replaced several earlier ephemeral organisations. Its name revealed the desire of the Comintern to see a flexible party eschewing narrow nationalism and capable of exerting wider appeal.87 Ho Chi Minh was the man destined to become world renowned as the leader of the ICP. Ho was born in 1893, the son of a mandarin who had served the royal family in Hue. He was deeply influenced by the rise of nationalism in Asia. He left Vietnam at the age of 18 and he spent most of the ensuing 30 years away from his native land, mainly in Europe and China. Ho worked briefly in London before the Great War and it is reported that he joined demonstrations in support of the Irish proletariat during the Dublin lockout in 1913. Ho then went to France where

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he worked in Paris and engaged in socialist activities. In 1920, he was present at the famous Tours congress at which the French socialists divided into communists and socialists; Ho supported the communists and castigated odious colonialism. Subsequently he travelled to Russia and was enrolled as an agent of Comintern. As Sophie Quinn-Judge has commented, Ho operated with shrewd discretion; he witnessed the bitter struggles within the Soviet party after Lenin’s death. Ho was wise enough to act without committing himself and averted the potentially murderous focus of Stalin.88 He visited Vietnam as a Comintern agent and helped to launch both the ICP and the MCP. He spent much time in China where he employed numerous aliases (over one hundred in total). Usually he contrived to be at least one step ahead of those tracking him but his luck ran out in Hong Kong where he was detained by British intelligence.89 However, liberal and left-wing circles in Britain secured his release and he was expelled from Hong Kong instead of being sent to Saigon to endure the tender inquisitorial methods of the Surete. The Japanese domination of Indochina created opportunities which were exploited brilliantly by Ho in 1945. The Japanese military first destroyed the moral basis of French rule and then destroyed the administration itself in March 1945. Emperor Bao Dai had been selected by the French to preside in a nominal capacity and to fulfil French bidding. Bao Dai was intelligent but indecisive. The demise of French administration led Bao Dai to denounce colonialism and to warn the French against trying to regain their colony.90 But he was not the man to lead or inspire: Ho Chi Minh was the man of the hour in 1945 and indeed the man pointing the way to the future destiny of Vietnam. The Vietminh was established in 1941 as a body of progressive nationalists: it was not a communist organisation but it was effectively controlled by members of the ICP. A political vacuum existed in the summer of 1945 and Ho knew that the Vietminh was best placed to exploit it. Ho welcomed contact with agents of the American Office of Strategic Services (OSS) and they regarded him favourably.91 This has inspired speculation concerning a ‘lost opportunity’ in American-Vietnamese relations: could a positive relationship have been achieved which would have averted the acrimony and bloodshed of later years? David Marr has reviewed the evidence and concluded persuasively that while the obstacles were not as formidable in 1945 as they were subsequently, they were still powerful. In Marr’s opinion a solution leading to the independence of Vietnam could have been reached if the United States had adopted a tough line with France and compelled the latter to make major concessions. President Franklin Roosevelt detested French rule


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and expressed the opinion that France should not be allowed to resume misgoverning Indochina after Japan had been defeated.92 However, political reality, including anxiety over the future stability of Europe, pushed American policy towards reluctant acquiescence in the return of the French. This trend gathered momentum after Roosevelt’s death in April 1945: his successor, Harry Truman, lacked international experience and he did not feel as strongly about the evils of French imperialism as his predecessor. Truman had enough to handle in Europe and in East Asia: he was content to leave the British to deal with Southeast Asia, other than the Philippines.93 Churchill, Eden, Attlee and Bevin became more deeply acquainted with the affairs of Indochina than they had contemplated or desired. Churchill revealed his ignorance in dictating a minute to General Ismay in March 1945: he could not understand why a French governor general and French troops were in Indochina early in 1945 and why they had not declared allegiance to General de Gaulle after the liberation of Paris.94 L.H. Foulds of the Foreign Office minuted on 5 March 1945 that the principal reason why Britain supported a restoration of French rule was that Roosevelt’s negative attitude to European colonialism threatened Britain’s position in Southeast Asia.95 Duff Cooper, the ambassador in Paris, has notified the Foreign Office during the previous month that de Gaulle had reaffirmed determination to return to Indochina when he attended a Tet celebration. De Gaulle stated that France could not forget the difficulties experienced by ‘her dear Indo-China’; after liberating Indochina France would make political, economic and social advancement ‘a primary aim in France’s renascent power and rediscovered greatness’.96 While de Gaulle spoke vaguely of wishing to pursue a new approach in colonial policy, it was not clear what this would amount to. Britain carried responsibility for handling the situation in the summer of 1945; the postwar responsibilities of SEAC were decided and enhanced at the Potsdam conference held in July 1945. Mountbatten became engaged in acrimonious exchanges with the American, General Wedemeyer, over demarcation in Indochina.97 Chiang Kai-shek was keen to expand Chinese influence and he regarded Indochina as a suitable area to fulfil this ambition. Wedemeyer was the senior American military representative in China and sympathised with Chiang’s aspiration. After Japanese surrender on 15 August 1945, China assumed responsibility for occupation of Tonkin (northern Vietnam) and moved troops across the border. Britain was responsible for disarming Japanese troops in southern Vietnam and for restoring order. General Douglas Gracey was appointed as the head of British and Indian forces. The challenges


were formidable. Essentially it was a matter of luck that the problems in Indochina did not become as grave, from the British viewpoint, as they did in Indonesia. Gracey had to accomplish disarmament of large numbers of Japanese troops and ensure their cooperation. He had to deal with the Vietminh imbued with fanatical zeal and resolute that French rule must be terminated. All French political parties including the communists believed that France must return: the French economy required Indochina to promote recovery and Indochina was a powerful symbol of French prestige. In the short term France needed British help pending the arrival of French troops. It was very difficult or impossible to reconcile such disparate elements. The pace was at first set by the Vietminh. Ho Chi Minh decided that he must seize the opportunity and claim legitimacy for the movement he led. He issued a passionate appeal to the Vietnamese people to unite and insist upon achieving independence now. This was soon followed by the formal proclamation of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV) in a ceremony held in Hanoi on 2 September 1945.98 The importance of this action was that it gave the nationalist movement a legitimacy that could not be removed. Ho had taken the initiative and this was not lost thereafter. Ho did not live to see the attainment of an independent, unified Vietnam but he had provided a fervent impetus which sustained the struggle for the next 30 years. Ho was a consummate politician and he was prepared to respond tactically to the demands of the situation: concessions might become unavoidable at times but one’s gaze must be focused firmly on the ultimate objective. Some of his supporters lacked guile and experience and were averse to compromise. Esler Dening, Mountbatten’s political adviser, appreciated the dangers in a telegram sent on 10 September. Dening assumed that British involvement in Indochina would be brief and that the chiefs of staff aimed to withdraw forces as soon as practicable. The French would expect the British to support them in suppressing movements regarded by them as subversive: ‘I think we should avoid at all costs laying ourselves open to the accusation that we are assisting the West to suppress the East. Such an accusation will rise very readily to the lips of the Americans and Chinese and would be likely to create an unfavourable impression throughout Asia.’99 Ernest Bevin minuted ‘I regard this as an important point to remember.’100 Dening observed that events could take a tragic turn: ‘... the position remains a Gilbert and Sullivan comedy with an approaching climax which could be a Shakespearian tragedy’.101 Serious violence occurred in Saigon for which extremists on both sides were held responsible. Vietnamese and French were murdered


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and tension rose. The British suspected that the Japanese were assisting Vietnamese revolutionaries: the ailing Japanese commander, Field Marshal Terauchi, was told that Japanese forces must comply fully with allied demands.102 British representatives deplored the lack of realism displayed by most French agents: ‘The Annamites have seen the French dictated to, humiliated and finally disarmed and kicked out of authority by an Oriental race, and perhaps equally important, they have tasted power, and known for a short time the pride of being a de facto government.’103 Disarming Japanese troops took a considerable time; pending disarmament, they were expected to act in accordance with orders issued by British commanders. The Joint Planning Staff (JPS) in London reviewed matters in December 1945. British forces comprised 20th Indian Division plus small naval and Royal Air Force (RAF) units concentrated in the key area of Saigon-Cholon and immediately surrounding country. In addition, there were military detachments at Phnom Penh (Cambodia) and Cap St. Jacques for the purpose of disarming the Japanese and liaising with the French. At present (13 December) 42,000 Japanese had been disarmed and 26,500 possessed personal weapons only. Approximately 600 Japanese had deserted. French forces totalled 21,500.104 Mountbatten proposed withdrawal of British and Indian forces in three stages, the first two being completed by the end of January 1946. The last British forces departed in March 1946: all concerned in SEAC and in London breathed a collective sigh of relief that British casualties were minimal. Friction had occurred at times in exchanges between the British and French but at least divergence did not become as serious as occurred in Indonesia. British officials had little faith in the ability of the French to achieve a solution. Admiral Thierry d’Argenlieu, the governor general, followed a hardline policy and did all he could to frustrate Vietnamese ambitions. French governments were weak after de Gaulle’s resignation in January 1946. The Fourth Republic began to exhibit the characteristic of rapidly changing coalition governments even if certain politicians contrived to remain in office for lengthy periods. The British consul general in Saigon, E. Meiklereid, thought that the French should compromise with Ho Chi Minh. Ho ‘is an outstanding character and there is little fear at present of his being ousted from power by the more violent nationalist members of his Government who, to judge by the local Hanoi press are only prepared to accept the complete withdrawal of the French’.105 Ho indeed travelled to Paris and spent the summer of 1946 in desultory discussions with members of the French government. Ho was willing to compromise on the understanding that France would soon grant


independence. Some politicians, such as the veteran socialist, Leon Blum, were sympathetic but there was no prospect of any French government agreeing to grant independence at this time. Ho’s colleagues in Hanoi feared that he would go too far and give too much away. Ho conceded as much as he could contemplate in the agreement reached in September 1946.106 Ho returned to Hanoi but the negative attitudes in Paris, plus the intransigence of militants in the Vietminh, precluded genuine agreement. Meiklereid reported from Saigon on 22 November 1946 that the situation was deteriorating rapidly. Admiral d’Argenlieu was emphasising the menace posed by communism to allied interests in Southeast Asia in an attempt to rally support for French policy. Meiklereid commented ‘To my mind the greatest mistake in French policy in Indo-China has been their failure to strike a steady balance between their desire to safeguard their own commercial interests and the need for meeting the Annamites’ legitimate claim to some form of self-government.’107 In December, deterioration became full-scale fighting: the endeavours to obtain a compromise collapsed because the requisite goodwill was lacking on both sides and particularly on the French side. Ho Chi Minh was sincere in trying to reach agreement but this was not reciprocated. Thus in December 1946 Indochina lurched into a conflict that was to culminate in the defeat of the French in 1954 and then in the defeat of the Americans in 1975.

Indonesia Britain became involved in the bitter dispute in Indonesia for the same reason that Britain became involved in Indochina: to arrange and supervise disarmament of Japanese forces and to restore order pending the return of the Netherlands to its colony. Britain was also responsible for ensuring the protection and well-being of civilian internees and allied prisoners of wars (POWs). British ministers and officials had to cope with endless arguments and accusations of bias from the Dutch and the Indonesians, particularly the former.108 Ernest Bevin was personally affronted at the obduracy of the Dutch and pursued a tough approach in applying an arms embargo against the Netherlands. The Dutch resembled the French in their inability to understand how Indonesia had changed as a consequence of Japanese occupation. Before the Pacific War the Netherlands consolidated its hold in the numerous islands of Indonesia, made limited constitutional concessions and suppressed the more vocal manifestations of nationalism. The Dutch regarded their rule as combining fairness, firmness and justice with no intention of


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extending independence in the foreseeable future. Queen Wilhelmina made a famous broadcast in 1942 promising that colonial policy would assume a progressive character once Japan was defeated.109 Dutch political parties and most politicians believed that it was the duty of the Netherlands to return and to remain for a long time. Dutch commercial interests, which exerted appreciable influence, were determined to resume business. The Roman Catholic Church had followed an active policy of conversion in the twentieth century; while the Church did not play such an overt role after 1945 as it had done previously, it remained a significant influence and the Vatican was obsessed with opposing communism.110 Unfortunately the Vatican was not skilful in defining communism and it tended to equate militant nationalism with communism. Governments in the Netherlands were more assertive than their French counterparts in making their views known: they held that Britain should do all possible to help the Netherlands and that it should be robust in resisting pressure from Indonesian nationalism. As with Indochina, the Attlee government wished to promote reconciliation and urged negotiations between the nationalist leaders, principally Dr Sukarno, and Dutch representatives. Sukarno emerged as a prominent nationalist leader in the 1920s and had been imprisoned.111 He was an effective speaker but was not a demagogue; however, he showed some of the characteristics once attributed by Disraeli to Gladstone of being ‘inebriated with the exuberance of his own verbosity’. Sukarno’s career was advanced during Japanese occupation, since Japanese militarists wanted to eliminate Dutch influence and advance nationalism on condition that Indonesians accepted the Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere. It is relevant to note that the independence of Indonesia was proclaimed by Japanese commanders in collaboration with Indonesian leaders on 17 August 1945 – two days after Japan surrendered. British and Indian forces moved into Java in September under the command of General Sir Philip Christison. They had to contend with a combustible mixture of sullen, recalcitrant Japanese troops, obdurate Dutch administrators and army officers, and passionate Indonesian nationalists; it was impossible to handle all in a manner calculated to secure consensus. Christison made one or two statements at the beginning, which alienated the Dutch.112 Complaints emanated from The Hague that British forces were not doing enough to assist the Dutch and that they were too sympathetic to Indonesian militants. Van Kleffens, the Netherlands foreign minister, met Bevin on 4 October and criticised British policy; he deprecated the fact that shipping was not available to facilitate the transfer of Dutch forces to Indonesia. He lamented

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the undermining of Dutch influence and described the situation as ‘preposterous’. Bevin responded with more patience than he was later to show: ‘The fact was that the war with Japan had ended differently from what had been anticipated and we were faced with every problem at once, not only in the Netherlands East Indies, but in Burma, Malaya, Siam and Indo-China.’113 Van Kleffens spoke of deep anxiety concerning the large numbers of Dutch men, women and children interned in Java in camps beyond the Batavia perimeter; there was a real danger of massacres occurring and if such terrible events transpired, part of the responsibility would belong to Britain. He wanted more done to protect Dutch citizens and to prepare the ground for the return of Dutch administrators.114 Attlee met the Netherlands ambassador on 16 October: he explained that Britain did not have enough troops to handle the vast range of problems confronting it in the Indian subcontinent and Southeast Asia, not to mention other parts of the world. The deployment of Indian troops was a particularly delicate matter because Indian nationalist leaders objected to Indian forces being used to suppress nationalist movements. Attlee expressed doubts regarding Dutch refusal to negotiate with Sukarno: the ambassador replied that Sukarno ‘was the most extreme of all the Indonesians’ and that Dutch officials in Java knew how to deal with him.115 The ambassador objected that precedence was being given to demobilisation of Japanese troops instead of protecting Dutch interests. Attlee reiterated that Britain would do all possible to safeguard the internees and assist the Dutch to return to Indonesia. The Netherlands government was not satisfied and complaints intensified. Esler Dening was sent to Batavia to advise the British military and to handle discussions with the Dutch and the Indonesians. On 24 October, he attended a meeting with an Indonesian delegation chaired by Christison. Dening emphasised that force must be avoided and differences resolved through negotiations. He described Sukarno as ‘a genuine type with some personal appeal but not a man of remarkable character’. He was more impressed with Hatta, ‘a much cleverer man, an economist of Rotterdam but I imagine an intellectual rather than a man of action’.116 Dening added that the most awkward aspect was the reactionary approach of the Dutch: they did not appreciate that ‘what happened yesterday is for the historian while what happens tomorrow is for humanity’.117 He concluded that ‘the day of a master race is over’ but could the Dutch be persuaded that this was the reality?118 Problems intensified in October and November 1945 both in Java and Sumatra.


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The cabinet defence committee met on 5 November and Bevin remarked gloomily that the Dutch, United States and Australian governments had all been unhelpful. The Dutch blamed the British for not doing more to help them; the Americans shouted advice from the sideline; and the Australians supported Indonesian claims. General Smuts, prime minister of the Union of South Africa and usually sagacious, had not helped: Smuts did not grasp the growing importance of nationalism in Indonesia and appeared preoccupied with electoral repercussions in South Africa. Bevin also criticised General MacArthur for failing to discourage demonstrations in Tokyo.119 Dening was as mordant as Bevin when reporting to Mountbatten. Indonesian nationalists comprised ‘bookish intellectuals, worthy but remote’, and extremists including ‘bad elements and militant youth groups: I should judge that there is no body of Indonesians capable of ruling the country adequately and to its benefit at present’.120 Dening was alarmed at the role played by the Japanese: ‘I have come to the conclusion that the Japanese have left underground organisations throughout South-East Asia, and in view of their known methods ... they are likely to prove very hard to detect.’121 The alleged motive was to stimulate hatred of the West and to pave the way for subsequent renewed domination of Southeast Asia. Japan desired ‘a collection of weak, ill governed, independent Far East States which would fall an easy prey when Japan is ready to absorb them’.122 As for the Dutch, Dening regarded them as ‘mentally sick’, as much so in the Netherlands as in Indonesia. If negotiations collapsed, the best hope was to keep a foothold for the Dutch in West Java and assist Dutch recovery of other Indonesian islands. The Australian representative, W. McMahon Ball, favoured arbitration by the UN: if this involved Britain, the United States, Australia and New Zealand, it might be worth pursuing but not if Russia or China participated – Chiang Kai-shek’s regime would be worse than the Soviet Union to deal with.123 British and Indian forces were drawn into confrontations with Indonesian demonstrators and loss of life was incurred on both sides. Protests were forthcoming from left-wing Labour MPs and trade unions.124 Dening was alarmed at the poor discipline of Dutch forces. It was known that the Netherlands government intended replacing senior officers in Batavia. Dening commented that if the Netherlands authorities had acted sensibly, they would have disavowed two attacks on the prominent leader, Sjahrir. It might be necessary for Britain to issue a public repudiation of the attacks. He ended perceptively: ‘Unless the Dutch can put a stop once and for all to indiscipline of their troops, they might as well realise now that their ultimate recovery of Java is unlikely


and they may end by losing the whole of the Netherlands East Indies.’125 Bevin minuted that it should be pursued with the Netherlands.126 Firm representations were ordered by the Foreign Office: profound concern must be communicated regarding ‘outrages’ committed by native troops under Dutch command including attempts to assassinate Sjahrir.127 Bevin decided to replace General Christison and to send Sir Archibald Clark Kerr (shortly to become Lord Inverchapel), a former ambassador to China and the Soviet Union, on a temporary mission to attempt mediation. Disarmament of Japanese troops proceeded gradually. In reply to parliamentary questions from two MPs (one Conservative and one Communist), Jack Lawson, the secretary of state for war, said that a total of 260,000 Japanese personnel were under the authority of Supreme Allied Command Southeast Asia (SACSEA) in Indonesia including Dutch New Guinea: approximately 180,000 under British and Australian control had been disarmed.128 However, three months later a Foreign Office brief indicated that around 34,500 Japanese troops were under British control.129 Clark Kerr was impressed with the gravity of the situation when he reached Batavia. Sjahrir and his cabinet were pessimistic and the senior Dutch representative, van Mook, was full of vague assurances. Clark Kerr observed ‘I fancy that behind Dr van Mook’s sincere desire to see a settlement reached unfortunately lies the thought that in the last resort he will be able sooner or later to shoot his way to peace.’130 He drew the same deductions as Dening and deplored Dutch intransigence. It was obvious that he could not accomplish much in a temporary capacity and he departed for Washington to assume his next post as ambassador. He was succeeded by another senior diplomat, Lord Killearn (formerly Sir Miles Lampson) who had served as minister in China and high commissioner in Egypt. Killearn seemed to possess the experience and tenacity required for persuading recalcitrant groups to compromise. Killearn and Mountbatten each expressed dismay at the failure to make political progress and criticised the negative Dutch attitude. Dutch generals warned their British counterparts that they were weary of delay and that they wished to use force against the Indonesian administration.131 Casualties among British and Indian troops were increasing and the cost was rising. Bevin’s patience was running out and he minuted to the prime minister that he was tired of Dutch procrastination: ‘They are trading on our good nature and our agreement to keep troops in Indonesia until December ... . The Dutch should be seen and told that in view of this attitude we must withdraw immediately unless they are taking the negotiations seriously.’132 The fundamental issue was that the


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Netherlands government wanted to minimise concessions and exercise effective control in Indonesia. The Indonesian administration wanted substantial concessions and independence sooner rather than later. As with the French approach in Indochina, the Netherlands wished to keep Indonesia under the authority of the Dutch crown. Dutch generals and many Dutch politicians felt that the British were too soft and unduly sympathetic to the Indonesians: what was needed was decisive military action, which would disperse their opponents. Killearn endeavoured to convince Dutch representatives of the urgency of the position but without success. He reported from Singapore in January 1947 ‘I do not wish to be alarmist, but I was disturbed at their pugnacious attitude of mind.’133 The ambassador in The Hague, Sir Nevile Bland, commented that he and his staff had been trying ‘to instil into the heads of professors and lawyers who run the politics in this country that the Indonesians cannot be kept within the Dutch Commonwealth either by force or by treaty but only by retention by new methods of the old bond of common interest and association’.134 The British consul general in Batavia spoke of intrigue by major Dutch firms to extend economic control in Indonesia while they trained Indonesians to take over; these firms were described as unsympathetic to British interests.135 Contradictory signs of limited progress and resort to force appeared in March. The Netherlands approved signature of the Linggadjati agreement.136 Yet Dutch forces were simultaneously launching military operations.137 Attlee requested a meeting with the Netherlands ambassador and congratulated his government on the decision to sign the Linggadjati agreement. He then conveyed anxiety at reports of Dutch military action in Sourabaya against the Indonesians. The prime minister warned that the consequences of a collapse of the Linggadjati agreement would be very grave for the whole of Southeast Asia and the world.138 Arguments persisted in March and April concerning the right of the Netherlands to detain British ships in the vicinity of Java. The British chiefs of staff viewed the position as analogous to actions of both Spanish navies during the Spanish civil war; that is, that the Netherlands navy could stop vessels within the recognised boundaries of their territorial waters in Indonesia but it would be erroneous to intercept or place armed guards on ships outside territorial waters.139 The Foreign Office informed the Netherlands Foreign Ministry on 3 April 1947 that Britain did not wish to prolong controversy, following signature of the Linggadjati agreement on 25 March; however, it was necessary to emphasise that Britain could not accept the implied right of the Netherlands to remove a ship to another port: this would be ‘a quite unwarrantable extension of the

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rights of the territorial state’.140 Subsequent signs were not encouraging and it was clear that the Netherlands was preparing to use force. Bevin became involved personally in dealing with matters and he dictated a minute for his minister of state, Hector McNeil, on 20 May 1947. The dispute in Indonesia could escalate and could be exploited by the Soviet Union or be raised in the UN: ‘If the Dutch want to fight it out, I think we should make it quite clear to them that they have not got our support. We cannot lend ourselves to it with our responsibilities in the area.’141 Bevin thought that Britain should seek to work more closely with the United States: the latter could apply pressure on both parties. He commented that ‘the whole of the world’s sympathy is going to be with the Indonesians’ and discreet pressure was needed to achieve a diplomatic solution.142 If the situation worsened, India would be antagonised and prospects for a permanent solution would be undermined. Bevin concluded ‘I have real fears of big trouble here if that matter is not handled with great care.’143 The Netherlands resorted to military action in July 1947. This accentuated difficulties in Southeast Asia and at home. A Foreign Office official warned that ‘our whole position in S.E. Asia would be threatened if it were thought that we supported the Dutch in their Indonesian policy or that we were continuing to supply them there’.144 The UN would deliberate with the Soviet Union present, the latter intent on causing trouble. The Netherlands should be persuaded to accept arbitration. Britain issued a public statement expressing profound regret at the collapse of its endeavours to promote compromise.145 At home numerous letters of protest descended on the Foreign Office from Labour left-wingers, members of the Independent Labour Party (ILP), trade union branches and trades councils. The ILP denounced the Attlee government’s approach, which had unwisely facilitated the return of the Dutch. It was a ‘new Imperialist War’ and ‘a crime against humanity’. The ILP welcomed Nehru’s protest and noted the parallel conflict in Indochina. ‘We state that our brothers of Asia have the right to call upon the help and assistance of the International Working Class and we rejoice that the Australian workers have refused to handle arms and ammunition for the conflict.’146 Bevin minuted succinctly ‘Ignore’.147 The United States government annoyed the Foreign Office by making a unilateral offer of good offices without consulting Britain. Dening commented that he had little faith in the Americans displaying tact or discretion.148 A telegram was sent to Washington conveying Bevin’s candid astonishment.149 Relations with the Netherlands deteriorated. Senior Dutch army and navy officers did not disguise their


39

hostility to Britain. A Dutch admiral told the retiring British consul general in Batavia on 15 August 1947 that lack of British support was deplorable. His ire was emphatic and apparently included the remark that ‘people here and in Holland were wondering whether it was really worth while having fought the war against Germany on the side of the Allies’.150 The UN Security Council discussed the crisis in October and a ‘good offices’ committee was established comprising Mr Justice Kirby (Australia), Paul van Zeeland (Belgium) and Dr Frank P. Graham (United States). Relations between the Netherlands and the United States were strained and there were reports of clandestine American activity.151 Britain imposed an arms embargo on the Netherlands in the summer of 1947, for purposes of sending arms and ammunition to Indonesia. Bevin was instrumental in its adoption and he supported imposition for a lengthy period, overruling doubts in the Foreign Office. Bevin was angry and in no mood to amend his decision. The best prospect for progress lay in the efforts of rather more enlightened Dutch politicians steering policy in a more positive direction. Faith was placed in the views of Dr. Dirk Stikker, a businessman turned politician who displayed courage in opposing reactionaries. Also an encouraging speech was made by the queen in February 1948, which was compared to the statement issued by Queen Wilhelmina in December 1942.152 Representatives of the Netherlands hastened the formation of a provisional federal government on 9 March 1948. Sixteen portfolios were held respectively by nine Dutch nationals and seven Indonesians: no Republicans were included. The principal Dutch representative, van Mook, undertook to pursue discussions with Hatta, clearly aiming to secure an outcome favourable to Dutch interests.153 Bevin’s policy focused on reiteration of the necessity of reaching a negotiated solution while maintaining an arms embargo as a means of exerting pressure on The Hague. Grounds for cautious optimism seemed to exist in the later summer and autumn of 1948. A new Dutch prime minister, Professor Drees, took office in August and he appeared receptive to British arguments, which related the position in Indonesia to wider concerns in Southeast Asia.154 British diplomats reported positively on the sincerity of Stikker who was now foreign minister. Stikker had progressive inclinations but had to cope with numerous reactionaries averse to compromise.155 Bevin met the American secretary of state, General George Marshall, in Paris in October 1948. Marshall criticised Dutch procrastination during 1948 and Bevin said that the Dutch had proved incompetent; they had forced Britain into imposing an arms embargo.156


Malcolm MacDonald warned from Singapore on 1 December of the grave consequences ensuing from repressive Dutch action against the Indonesian Republic. Communist parties throughout South East Asia, from the Viet Minh in Indo-China, to the Malayan Communist Party in its jungle hideouts, would exploit the situation in their propaganda. The most dangerous result of military action would be to produce a rapprochement throughout South East Asia between the Communists and the more moderate Nationalists and also those non-Communist leftwing groups from whom the Communists have recently alienated themselves by taking up arms in Malaya and Java.157 Bevin was fully conscious of this argument and he was exasperated at inability to make more progress. The Netherlands resented AngloAmerican pressure and Stikker described an American note as ‘an unfriendly act’.158 On 18 December Stikker informed diplomats from Britain, Canada, the United States, Belgium and France that the failure of the Indonesian government to reply by a stipulated deadline had caused his government to authorise its high representative in Batavia to take ‘such measures as he considered necessary for re-establishment of conditions of peace and security in the whole of Indonesia’.159 Thus further ‘police action’ had been approved and the dangers alluded to by MacDonald loomed large. Bevin’s response was blunt. He sent a tough message to The Hague warning of the repercussions in the UN Security Council and spelling out the reality as he discerned it: ‘I hope the Netherlands Government realise that they have now ranged the whole of Asia against them and also, though perhaps to a lesser degree, the Arab States. In addition to this they have aroused American and Australian opinion to the extent of active intervention in the Security Council, while in this country they may expect a very critical attitude from the Government benches when Parliament reassembles.’160 Bevin added that the only way forward was to take bold action and set up a federal interim government including representatives of the Republic and to set a definite date for transfer of power. Acrimony in Anglo-Dutch relations persisted in 1949. The Netherlands was alienated further by British support for critical US action in the UN Security Council. Requests for the lifting of the British arms embargo were submitted but Bevin refused to entertain them, although some of his officials favoured a change in policy. Eventually in 1950, the Netherlands was compelled by firm American pressure to


41

recognise the Indonesian Republic. The Netherlands still hoped to retain a significant presence but its previous actions eliminated whatever faint prospect remained. The future of Dutch New Guinea remained a thorny issue, which would generate much heat and dispute in the coming years. The birth of Indonesia was difficult and tempestuous for all concerned. For the British Foreign Office it was the most challenging of the disputes in Southeast Asia handled in the immediate aftermath of the Pacific War. The resulting sourness in Anglo-Dutch relations took a considerable time to diminish: echoes could be heard clearly in the 1960s when Britain was engaged in confrontation with Indonesia over the creation of Malaysia. Between 1945 and 1948 British ministers and officials wrestled as best they could with the legacy of Japanese occupation of Southeast Asia. It was more prolonged and arduous than anticipated. Serious mistakes were made in Malaya and Burma but at least British policy revealed pragmatism in dealing with the challenges in Indochina and Indonesia. The British retreat over Malayan Union and acceptance of Malayan Federation meant that Britain was better placed than might at first have appeared to be the case to respond to the communist insurrection when this began in 1948. There was no prospect of keeping Burma within the Commonwealth because of the blunders committed by Dorman-Smith and the Attlee government in 1945–46. The assassination of Aung San was a shocking blow from which Burma has suffered ever since. Thakin Nu was amiable and well intentioned but lacked the outstanding gifts of leadership possessed by Aung San. Britain bore much responsibility for the chronic instability in Burma after 1948. Britain assisted France and the Netherlands to return to their colonies but there was little confidence in Westminster and Whitehall that they would succeed. British leaders, with the exception of Churchill, realised that it was time to implement graceful retreat and accommodate reality. For France and the Netherlands the experience was more painful and traumatic.

2 The Communist Challenges in Malaya and Indochina

Communist Movements in Malaya and Indochina provided serious challenges to British and French colonial administrations in the later 1940s and 1950s. The outcome of these challenges was very different: communism in Malaya was contained successfully and reduced to being an irritant rather than a menace. In Vietnam, the Vietminh flourished and the latter was dominated by communists. The Democratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV), proclaimed by Ho Chi Minh in September 1945, was never defeated: its existence was often shadowy but the flame continued to burn and it inspired many young Vietnamese. The bankruptcy of French policy was revealed in 1954 with the convening of the Geneva conference and the humiliating surrender of Dien Bien Phu. The communist advance was held temporarily because of a combination of Anthony Eden’s diplomatic skill and the willingness of the Soviet Union and the People’s Republic of China (PRC) to settle for half a loaf instead of transferring the whole loaf in 1954. However, it was clear in the mid-1950s that communism in the Malayan peninsula (but not in Singapore) was a declining force whereas in Vietnam it was expanding. The potential of communism in Laos and Cambodia was a matter for speculation: communism was likely to be more of a threat in Laos for geographical reasons. However, Vietnam was the principal focus of attention in 1955. In this chapter, the different responses of the British governments of the period will be examined.

Malaya In the spring and summer of 1948, Malaya slipped inexorably into armed conflict between the forces of the state and the supporters of the Malayan Communist Party (MCP). The rebellion was at its most 42

Communist Challenges in Malaya and Indochina 43

threatening in its early years, until approximately 1953; it was contained successfully in the 1950s but it was not eradicated. Communist activity ended finally only in 1989 with a negotiated solution involving the governments of Malaysia and Thailand and the surviving communist leaders, still headed by the redoubtable Chin Peng.1 Miscalculation occurred on each side: the MCP underestimated the challenge of persuading Malays to join an insurrection dominated by Chinese, and the British (and their allies) underestimated the tenacity and dedication of their opponents. In June 1948, attacks took place on European planters and Chinese workers on rubber estates in northern Perak and near Johore Bahru. Deterioration in law and order compelled the high commissioner, Sir Edward Gent, to extend emergency regulations to apply throughout the federation.2 Confidence in Gent declined in 1947–48, partly because of the collapse of Malayan Union. He was criticised by Malcolm MacDonald who recommended his recall to London. The colonial secretary, Arthur Creech Jones, ordered Gent to return to London with the intention of announcing Gent’s resignation shortly after his arrival. Fate intervened before Creech Jones could act: Gent’s aeroplane collided with another aircraft when preparing to land at Northolt airport (London) and the high commissioner perished. Sir Henry Gurney was appointed to succeed Gent. He was a career civil servant of much experience, having served most recently in Palestine during the depressing final stages of the ill-fated British mandate. Gurney was a man of authority and determination but he lacked charisma. Before he arrived, the authorities in Kuala Lumpur moved to suppress the MCP and associated organizations in fulfilment of a decision reached by the Attlee cabinet on 19 July.3 Uncertainty prevailed concerning the precise motivation of the communist rebels and over the numbers supporting the insurrection, actively or passively. For some time the term ‘bandits’ was used to describe the rebels. Malaya was vitally important to the British economy: the rubber estates and tin mines of the Malayan peninsula contributed powerfully to Britain’s dollar-earning capacity. The Attlee government had granted independence to India, Pakistan, Ceylon and Burma in 1947–48 but there was no intention of extending independence to Malaya in the near future. The British Empire was still extensive and Britain was a major player in Southeast Asia. The rapid advance of communism in China in 1948–49 confirmed the necessity of suppressing communism within British territories. The cabinet in London and the local administration in Kuala Lumpur gradually realised that the rebellion was more serious than initially believed.4 Crucial to British aims was gaining the positive support of most Malays and Indians


and convincing Chinese that Britain would contain and then eradicate rebellion. This meant that British officials and military men must convey competence, resolution and flexibility in reconciling political, economic, social and strategic considerations. Therefore British policymakers must embark on partnership with the peoples of Malaya: this meant that they were drawn into the process of negotiation and concession, culminating within a decade in the independence of Malaya. The MCP acted independently of the Soviet Union, contrary to some of the suspicions entertained at the time. Stalin displayed little interest in Southeast Asia and Moscow applied no pressure on the MCP. The latter was naturally influenced by the contemporary revival of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and Mao Tse-tung’s advocacy of guerrilla warfare; however, the CCP did not interfere in the affairs of the MCP. Chin Peng was a young leader thrust into control by the treachery of his predecessor, Lai Tek. He was courageous, ruthless and, as he admitted in retirement, rather naïve on the revolutionary prospects for Malaya.5 In favour of the MCP was the turbulence resulting from the Pacific War, which affected much of Malaya. Tim Harper has written eloquently of the dislocation and intensification of social pressures affecting Chinese, Malays, Indians and the aboriginal peoples dwelling in the most remote parts of the peninsula.6 Much of Malaya was in ferment and this could be exploited by communists. The MCP message had to emphasise cooperation of all against imperialism and capitalism, to provide the vision of a new and better future, capable of tangible realisation. Asia was changing and experiencing renewal, as the era of Western colonialism drew to a close. Communism would succeed through persuasion and coercion: those resistant to the message of the future would have to be removed swiftly, so that progress could be achieved. Death and punishment would be administered to opponents and those who would not cooperate. The obstacles facing the MCP were formidable and ultimately insurmountable. A minority of Malays supported the Malay Nationalist Party (MNP) until it was proscribed by the British. Malays in this category could be secular or Islamist: they were usually inspired by developments in Indonesia and were responsive to the Pan Malay appeal, looking towards union between Indonesia and Malaya.7 Some but not many Malays belonged to the MCP. If the rebellion stood any chance of succeeding, it must appeal to Malays. It failed to do so. Most Malays perceived the MCP as a Chinese party, loyal to Peking. Many Malays regarded the Chinese as a serious threat, whatever political sympathies were espoused by the Chinese (there was still considerable, if diminishing, support for the Kuomintang (KMT) regime


led by Chiang Kai-shek). Some Indian trade unionists supported the MCP but most Indians were not attracted by communism.8 Singapore was an important source of encouragement for Chinese radicals: the politics of Singapore was highly combustible and presented the British and their successors with major difficulties. But Singapore reminded Malays of the perils of Chinese dominance and the view predominated that Singapore was best kept at a certain distance. In December 1948, Gurney reflected on the problems facing the British in winning over Chinese to their side.9 The federation and state governments were ‘out of touch with their Chinese communities’.10 State administrations possessed a strong Malay bias at the higher levels.11 In order to make clear Britain’s commitment to Malaya, Gurney recommended that two statements should emanate from London: first, that their policy is that the Federation should be constitutionally linked with Singapore by means which would have the agreement of both territories and would involve the minimum loss of rights at present possessed by the people of both of them; and, secondly, that the British have no intention of leaving Malaya within the foreseeable future’.12 Singapore remained a vexed problem for which the British could discover no satisfactory solution prior to the creation of Malaysia in 1963 (and Singapore was ejected from Malaysia in 1965). Attlee issued a brief statement regarding future aims in 1949: the ultimate aim of the British government was that Malaya should achieve self-government but no timescale was indicated.13 Attlee and his colleagues envisaged continuance of British rule for a long way ahead. The line adopted by the Attlee and Churchill governments, until the latter modified its position, was that Britain could not leave Malaya until the communist insurrection had been liquidated; in addition, it was stated that Britain would not depart until true racial harmony had been accomplished. Thus Malaya must be stable and not facing serious racial divisions before the colonial era closed: this approach, too, was to be modified in the mid-1950s. The principal achievement of the Attlee government lay in pointing the way ahead to containment of communism by military means in the ‘Briggs Plan’, approved in May 1950. Lieutenant-General Sir Harold Briggs was summoned from retirement in March 1950 and tasked with devising a strategy to roll back communism until it was eventually eliminated. His proposals were conveyed by the chiefs of staff to the cabinet Malaya committee on 24 May 1950.14 Briggs emphasised that

46


the Min Yuen (‘People’s Organization’), which operated in populated areas in which Chinese predominated must be eradicated; these areas comprised towns, villages, uncontrolled squatter areas, unsupervised Chinese estates and small holdings and estate and labour lines. Civil and military authorities would have to work closely to combat the MCP and the Min Yuen. The latter functioned because of lack of confidence in the effectiveness of the forces of law and order. Briggs outlined a strategy for eliminating communists on a phased basis, advancing from south to north. The application of strong pressure including denial of food supplies would eventually compel the communists to attack when British Commonwealth forces were able to destroy them.15 Intelligence must be improved and recruits with experience of the Indian police or of other police or intelligence organizations must be mobilised. Resettling squatter areas was imperative. Intensive operations in Negri Sembilan would commence on 1 August: Johore should be cleared of communists by 1 November, following which army striking forces would advance to Pahang and Selangor. Briggs hoped that South Pahang and Selangor would be cleared by 1 April 1951. It was not feasible to indicate further dates by which the remaining states and settlements would be cleared. Naturally, progress would be influenced by external developments, including events in China and in neighbouring states.16 Briggs was too sanguine on the speed of rolling back communists and the Min Yuen, but he had devised the basic strategy upon which British policy was predicated thereafter. The deployment of British forces was appreciable and this caused anxiety at a time when British commitments in Europe, the Middle East and Korea were onerous. Emanuel Shinwell and John Strachey reminded the cabinet defence committee in October 1950 that approximately 40,000 British troops were stationed in Malaya and they wished to see more rapid attainment of the aims stated in the Briggs plan.17 Attlee summoned a meeting a few months later to review progress, since he was dissatisfied with what had been achieved – ‘No State in Malaya had yet been fully cleared, and large numbers of troops seemed to be tied up there for an indefinite period.’18 Field Marshal Sir William Slim, chief of the imperial general staff, reported that the numbers of ‘bandits’ killed had increased since the beginning of the year, but he admitted that progress was slower than hoped.19 Intelligence was inadequate for liquidating the ‘cleverly-hidden underground organisation of the bandits’.20 James Griffiths, the colonial secretary, thought that ‘the situation was neither better nor worse than it was a year ago’.21 He believed greater urgency must be demonstrated by the civilian and military authorities.


As regards developments outside Malaya, it was argued by one or two present that ‘The changes of fortune in Korea would probably have less effect on the Chinese in Malaya than events in Indo-China, which was much nearer at hand.’22 The Malay sultans were described as ‘largely ineffective but important because of the religious influence they exerted’. Gurney offered to resign in a letter sent to the Colonial Office on 19 March 1951 but this was rejected. 23 Political developments in Malaya in the summer of 1951 included an important change in the leadership of the United Malays National Organization (UMNO). The mercurial Dato Onn resigned as president at the end of August 1951: Onn advocated closer cooperation between Malays, Chinese and Indians and repudiated the concept of Malay dominance. He was far ahead of thinking in his party and he decided to establish the Independence of Malaya Party (IMP) as the new vehicle for the fulfilment of his ambition. Onn had taken a fatal step, which took him to the periphery rather than the centre of Malay politics. He was succeeded as president of UMNO by Tunku Abdul Rahman: the Tunku appeared slow moving and rather ponderous and Gurney observed dismissively that ‘I am afraid that he will not be the sort of leader who will be capable of holding UMNO together in any important controversy.’24 This was not untypical of the underestimation of the new leader. In fact, the Tunku was to advance a considerable way along the route indicated by his predecessor while ensuring that he maintained contact with his supporters: he turned out to be far more successful than Dato Onn. On 6 October 1951, the MCP registered its greatest single success in bizarre circumstances.25 Communist guerrillas were waiting near a road extending from Kuala Lumpur to the hill resort of Fraser’s Hill when they ascertained that cars were approaching from the direction of Kuala Lumpur. They decided to attack not knowing who was in the vehicles. They succeeded in assassinating Sir Henry Gurney: the high commissioner was travelling with his wife, secretary and guards for a short break in Fraser’s Hill. He was not adequately protected, partly because a police wireless van had broken down.26 The assassination had wider impact since it occurred at the beginning of a general election campaign in Britain: the Attlee government had survived tenuously after its previously large majority was reduced drastically in the election held in February 1950 and the prime minister decided that he required a fresh mandate. Disaster in Malaya was hardly an encouraging recommendation. The leader of the opposition, Churchill, was determined to secure more convincing control of the situation in Malaya if he won the election. Although winning fewer votes than the Labour party, the

48


Conservatives emerged with a larger number of seats and Churchill formed his final administration. He appointed Oliver Lyttelton as the new colonial secretary. Lyttelton was both a politician and a businessman with experience of working in Malaya before the Pacific War. He agreed with Churchill that Malaya must be assigned a higher place in the new government’s agenda. The Labour administration had laid the foundation for later success in Malaya but it had not conveyed an air of confidence; James Griffiths admitted being rather baffled by Malaya when he relinquished office.27 Churchill and Lyttelton decided to appoint a military man as the next high commissioner. They took their time and considered various names before announcing the appointment of Lieutenant-General Sir Gerald Templer.28 He was ambitious, dynamic but with as yet untested political judgement. Lyttelton reported succinctly to Churchill: ‘He is regarded in the Army as outstanding man of his age and is likely to be CIGS in three or four years time. He has very good brains, is quick and decisive and is interested in all political aspects of problems.’29 In a minute addressed to the prime minister, Templer stated that he was clear on military priorities but he was not sure of the government’s political aims – ‘Is it a “united Malayan nation”? And if so, what exactly does this mean? Does it mean a merging of Malays and Chinese in one community – as a long term project?’30 Templer added that he wanted specific political instructions, which should ‘also state plainly that the British are not going to be kicked out of Malaya; and there is still a great future for the British in that country’.31 Churchill and Lyttelton agreed that Templer should possess top military and political authority combined, an unusual decision in a country wary of giving military men excessive power. It was a gamble: Templer could have erred and alienated people. He was responsible for egregious pronouncements at times but he managed to avoid major blunders. Templer held office as high commissioner for two years. The period bridged the immediate post-Gurney phase of disappointment to the stage of substantial military and political advancement. Of course, it would be erroneous to assign too much prominence to Templer himself. Malaya was changing rapidly as the struggle against communism stimulated new perceptions and processes. Notwithstanding serious racial tensions and suspicions, a new spirit of wary cooperation developed between Malays, Chinese and Indians. Tunku Abdul Rahman was adamant that the road to independence should be one accorded with the wishes (or prejudices) of predominant Malay opinion. But he worked diligently to modify Malay abrasiveness. Communism could be defeated and independence attained only through political compromise


and cooperation. The Tunku was helped by moderate Chinese opinion, headed by the venerable Sir Tan Cheng Lock; the MCA entered into a tacit understanding with UMNO in 1953; this was followed by the adhesion of moderate Indian opinion in 1954. Thus the Alliance was born: the Tunku achieved a modified version of what was advocated by Dato Onn in 1951. British administrators embarked on ‘nation building’ in Malaya from 1950 onwards. They wanted to bequeath stability and not division. They reiterated that Britain would not depart until harmony had been accomplished. However, once nation building was encouraged, it acquired momentum of its own and became self-perpetuating. Templer made his own idiosyncratic contribution. He eschewed the formality and pomp of his colonial predecessors and showed immense energy in touring the Malayan peninsula, providing ‘pep talks’ to all he met. On the positive side, he castigated traditional racial attitudes, including the arrogant superiority displayed by white officials, planters and businessmen. Communism would not be eliminated through treating people as inferior while consuming gin and tonic. Templer liked to remark that despite many defects, communists worked hard and with genuine zeal: they could be defeated only by analogous industry and dedication.32 On the negative side, Templer sometimes puzzled his Malay, Chinese, Indian or aboriginal audiences by resorting to language better suited to a British officers mess. One of the few positive aspects of the Korean War should be emphasised at this point. World demand for raw materials intensified and the Malayan economy benefited greatly from the voracious demand for rubber: this enabled the colony to engage in reconstruction and assisted in meeting the cost of the counter-insurgency effort. In the military sphere, the communists were contained via the application of the strategy defined by Briggs and the use of tough, brutal tactics. The squatter areas were disrupted and the inhabitants transferred to new areas or ‘repatriated’ to China. Templer was ruthless in punishing Chinese villagers for actual or suspected support for the MCP. Perhaps the most notorious example occurred at Tanjong Malim in March 1952. Following a number of terrorist incidents and the murder of an assistant district officer, Templer visited the village and rebuked the people for lack of cooperation with the security forces: he imposed a 22- hour curfew and introduced a strict rationing system. The restrictions were enforced for 13 days. Similar measures described as ‘collective punishment’ were applied elsewhere. In August 1952, Templer visited the small village of Permatang Tinggi where a Chinese official had been murdered in front of witnesses, none of whom could provide information.


Templer told the villagers that he would allow a short period for information to be supplied, failing which the village (excluding personal possessions) would be destroyed. No information was provided and the village was destroyed. Templer told a press conference that he disliked imposing collective punishment but it was necessary occasionally to demonstrate that non-cooperation would not be tolerated. Concern was expressed in Westminster by Jo Grimond, whip of the small Liberal party; Lyttelton explained the nature of Templer’s methods in a letter to Grimond, concluding that ‘I need hardly add that on all these occasions he has acted with my full support.’33 Gradually, the security forces gained the upper hand, as defections from the MCP grew. Publicity was important in encouraging further departures from communist ranks. Disputes within the MCP assisted the forces of law and order. Doubts were voiced by some comrades concerning Chin Peng’s strategy and firm approach to party discipline. Trials of dissidents were held under the direction of MCP leaders and punishment was administered including the death penalty.34 The inner core of MCP leaders, mostly Chinese but including a few Malays and Indians, remained loyal to Chin Peng and accepted that the armed struggle must continue. The diminishing gravity of guerrilla warfare is illustrated in the following statistics: Year 1948 1949 1950 1951 1952 1953 1954 1955 1956 1957 1958 1959

Terrorists killed 374 619 648 1078 1155 959 723 420 307 240 153 21

Security forces killed

Number of incidents

149 229 393 504 263 92 87 79 47 11 10 1

1274 1442 4739 6082 3727 1170 1077 781 435 190 90 1235

Political progress in the Templer era included devising a timetable for elections to town and local councils; reconstitution of the federal legislative council; elections for state and settlement councils; then federal legislative council elections. Templer envisaged a short period of consolidation, followed by attainment of self-government in 1960. Templer regretted the absence of outstanding political leaders and


stable political parties. He warned the Colonial Office of the ‘political ineptitude of the Malays’ and the danger presented by ‘extremist proIndonesian trends’ in UMNO.36 Templer recognised that the process of nation building must gather momentum fairly rapidly, although he contemplated a longer timescale. In November 1953, Lyttelton sent a minute to Churchill in which he expressed warm praise for Templer’s achievements: ‘Sir Gerald Templer has established for himself in Malaya and in the minds of all her races a position never before enjoyed by anyone.’37 It was desirable for him to remain in Malaya until the summer of 1954 when Lyttelton recommended that Templer should be succeeded by his deputy, Sir Donald MacGillivray. Templer had total confidence in his deputy and held that it would be an excellent appointment. Churchill’s personal interest is underlined in the fact that he insisted upon interviewing MacGillivray, on 18 December 1953, before approving his appointment.38 Tunku Abdul Rahman and UMNO exerted pressure early in 1954 for agreement on a timetable leading swiftly to independence. The Tunku handled the challenges shrewdly and effectively. He had to manage opinion within UMNO carefully and outmanoeuvre radical elements, including former members of the MCP who had joined UMNO and pro-Indonesian elements. At the same time, he had to prove to his rank and file that he was capable of being firm with the British government and of threatening more drastic action unless concessions were agreed. An emergency meeting of the UMNO general assembly took place on 18 April 1954, and this approved resolutions reiterating UMNO’s determination to secure independence as soon as practicable plus urging measures to introduce a fully elected legislative council and the despatch of a delegation to London. The resolutions were approved by a two-thirds majority. 39 The Colonial Office did not wish to advance with the rapidity sought by UMNO and the latter was dissatisfied with the white paper published by the government. The Tunku pressed that three-fifths of the future members of the federal legislative council should be elected instead of the government’s stipulation that there should be 52 elected to 46 appointed.40 The Alliance (UMNO, MCA and MIC) planned a boycott of federal elections. A clash was obviated when MacGillivray informed the Tunku that he would consult the leader or leaders of the majority among the elected members before determining appointments.41 Despite friction at times, there was substantial agreement on the programme for constitutional advancement in 1954–55. The crucial stage would occur when the first general election took place. This occurred on 27 July 1955 when elections to fill the elected seats were held. Registered voters


were 1,280,000 of whom most were Malays; only around 180,000 were Chinese. Many Chinese and Indians were not federal citizens or were citizens who had not registered. The Alliance put forward 52 candidates out of a total of 129. The Alliance aimed to secure independence within four years; to obtain the establishment of a special independent commission comprising members appointed from outside Malaya to make recommendations for constitutional reform, leading to self-government; to ‘Malayanise’ the public service through replacing expatriates; and to suggest an amnesty for pro-communist terrorists. The latter caused anxiety but, as we shall see, the Tunku had no intention of allowing the MCP to regain the initiative. Of the other parties contesting the election, only two were of particular interest – the Party Negara and the Pan-Malayan Islamic Party (PMIP). British officials had anticipated that the Party Negara would play a prominent role because it was led by Dato Onn, the principal founder and first leader of UMNO. Onn was too erratic, veering from pressing close cooperation between Malays and Chinese to emphasise Malay dominance. Onn was undoubtedly a leader but with few followers. The PMIP was a recently formed party representing the assertion of Islamic values. The result of the election was a massive victory for the Alliance, which triumphed in 51 constituencies. The only other party to gain representation was the PMIP with one seat.42 To the surprise of British officials the Party Negara failed to gain a seat. Polling was high, attaining an average of 80 per cent. Tunku Abdul Rahman and his colleagues now assumed responsibility in the preparatory phase before the achievement of independence. The aspect that worried British ministers and officials concerned the possible amnesty for communists. The fear was that the Tunku might be tempted to be too generous and reduce the heavy pressure on the MCP and allow it to re-establish itself in Malayan mainstream politics, which would include its supporters in Singapore. The Tunku was adamant that he wished to meet MCP leaders under a flag of truce, to ascertain if agreement was feasible: he resented thinly disguised British doubts as to whether he could handle the talks effectively. It was decided eventually that the Tunku, David Marshall (chief minister of Singapore) and Sir Cheng Lock Tan (leader of the MCA) would meet Chin Peng, Chen Tian and Abdul Rashid Mahiden of the MCP at Baling in northern Kedah on 28 and 29 December 1955. A verbatim record, based on tape recordings, was produced and a lengthy summary was drafted. It is an interesting, revealing document.43 Some British officials feared that the wily Chin Peng might seize the initiative and induce the Tunku into making unwise concessions, as he emerged from years in the jungle to meet


the prospective prime minister of Malaya. What did Chin Peng want? He and his colleagues realised that the rebellion, which had lasted for seven and a half years, had failed in its essential aims. It had not overthrown British imperialism; rather the imperialists were preparing to hand over to those willing to collaborate with them while British capitalism consolidated its position. Chin Peng wished to end the rebellion with honour and to rejoin conventional politics. But honour and integrity, as defined by the MCP, were fundamental: the MCP was not going to surrender and Chin Peng was prepared to continue the armed struggle if his conditions were not met. As for the Tunku, he was determined to show the British that he was more tenacious and astute than they appeared to think, and that the MCP respected the outcome of the general election, held in July 1955. David Marshall was faced with a volatile situation in Singapore and tended to be more abrasive in approach. Sir Cheng Lock Tan said little. Chin Peng did most of the talking for the MCP, aided by Chen Tian. In the first session, on 28 December, Tunku Abdul Rahman emphasised that ‘I did not come here as the spokesman for the British government, neither am I the stooge or running dog of colonialism. I am the servant of the people and I represent the people who have elected me to power, and I do genuinely seek peace for this country.’44 Chin Peng accepted this statement, adding that this was why he and his comrades had emerged from the jungle ‘at the risk of our lives’.45 The people desired peace and Chin Peng felt that serious endeavours to achieve this were required. The Tunku said that he wanted the communists to end armed conflict and to support the Alliance and other parties in working for the independence of Malaya to be accomplished by constitutional means. However, the communists had to prove their loyalty to Malaya: being anti-British was not the same as striving sincerely for Malaya. During the second session, Chin Peng requested a definition of ‘loyalty’46. The Tunku responded that subversive activities, including those in Singapore, must be terminated. The MCP must accept the role of the rulers as heads of their states and must recognise the importance of religion. David Marshall defended the armistice terms and urged the MCP to leave the jungle and return to the mainstream.47 Chin Peng inquired whether ending the fighting would entail dissolution of the MCP. The Tunku confirmed that this would be the case. Chin Peng observed that ideology was vital for the MCP: ‘We will never allow ourselves to be forced by others to give up this ideology but wish to put our ideology to the people to decide, if that is possible.’48 The Tunku remarked that the Alliance manifesto had been wholly clear and it had been endorsed by

54


the people: he had no doubt that in future elections the people would choose ‘our system’. Significantly, Chin Peng concurred.49 This was an early example of the Tunku’s success in spelling out the political realities to the MCP. The communists should respect democracy and ‘accept the way of life accepted by the majority’.50 Chin Peng responded that ‘I have made it quite clear just now that we cannot accept the Amnesty conditions as they are now because these conditions require us to dissolve the Communist Party.’51 The remainder of the discussions at Baling focused on the right of the MCP to continue to exist. During the third session, Chin Peng wished to know if the British government had given an unambiguous guarantee of independence; he also inquired as to whether this included transfer of internal security to the elected administration. The Tunku replied in the affirmative to both.52 Chin Peng requested clarification of the treatment of guerrillas emerging from the jungle. He was told that initially they would be detained for investigation: it was essential to ascertain that they would not use violence in future. The Tunku and David Marshall stressed their desire to see detainees assimilated into society if they respected democracy.53 Chin Peng stated firmly that the MCP could not accept humiliating conditions: instead, the MCP would defend ‘the dignity of man’ and resume the struggle. The summary of the talks states that it was essentially at this point that the talks broke down.54 In the final session on 29 December, the issues were once more reviewed. The differences between the two sides were too great: Chin Peng held that, as regards refusal to accept the continued existence of the MCP and insistence that arms must be surrendered to the government, the other side was asking too much. Accordingly, it was not possible to accept the current amnesty terms. The Tunku and Marshall pointed out that there were seven million people in Malaya and only approximately 3000 communists: this small minority could not dictate to the overwhelming majority. The Tunku summarised the differences succinctly at the end of the talks: ‘As I said yesterday our ideologies are completely at variance ... therefore if you do not come out to surrender, we would rather not accept you in our society. If you want to have peace in this country, one side must give in – either we give in to you or you give in to us.’55 He added that he would not allow Malaya to be divided, which Korea and Vietnam had experienced. ‘Malaya was too small and he had, therefore, to be frank with them and say that it was they who must surrender.’56 The outcome of the Baling talks was a triumph for Tunku Abdul Rahman. Doubts concerning his competence and reliability were


banished: he was a man who could be trusted to pursue the policy of containing communism and squeezing the MCP until the insurrection withered. The British now retreated on their conditions of wanting to see full racial harmony achieved, communism eliminated and the Emergency terminated before granting independence. One of the delicate issues in the approach of independence involved defence. The British base in Singapore was vital in exercising British power in Southeast Asia and it was threatened by the strength of communists and ‘fellow travellers’ in Singapore. Britain deemed it essential to have a defence agreement with the new state of Malaya. This raised the accusation of ‘neocolonialism’: Malaya would appear to be independent but this would be circumscribed by the presence of British forces on Malayan territory. Many in the Alliance disliked this prospect and some feared that Britain was manoeuvring Malaya into membership of the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) by the back door. The Tunku was an Anglophile and he entertained personal sympathy for SEATO. But he was a realist and knew that it was not possible for Malaya to join. However, he advocated having a defence agreement with Britain because of the instability in Southeast Asia and because an agreement would result in lower taxation in Malaya. At the constitutional conference, held in January–February 1956, it was agreed that when Malaya achieved independence, the new administration would enter into an agreement ‘on external defence and mutual assistance’ with Britain. The terms were later prepared by a joint working party, attended by Australian and New Zealand observers. The resulting text was approved by British ministers at the end of 1956. John Profumo, the parliamentary under-secretary in the Colonial Office, wrote to Harold Macmillan, the prime minister on 12 August 1957 that the agreement would come into force upon independence; each government needed to confirm to the other that the agreement was acceptable and it should be signed upon independence. It was proposed that the colonial secretary, Alan Lennox-Boyd, and the Tunku should sign on behalf of each government.57 The crucial features of the agreement provided for the presence of bases and facilities for British forces and for a Commonwealth strategic reserve to be stationed in Malaya. Britain possessed considerable freedom of decision under the terms of the agreement: Britain could act immediately to combat an attack on Malaya or British territories in eastern Asia. In addition, Britain could withdraw its forces to deploy them elsewhere if a situation arose in which the Malayan government did not wish to be involved. British obligations to SEATO represented a sensitive aspect but it was hoped in London that Malaya would not


object to British action in support of SEATO.58 The agreement would continue for the foreseeable future: the Tunku and his colleagues held that the agreement was ‘an essential guarantee to the continued existence of the Federation as an independent nation in the free world’.59 Signature was delayed because of a promise made earlier by the Tunku to the general assembly of UMNO that the federal legislature should have the opportunity to debate the terms of the agreement before it was signed. A further complication arose from remarks made by the minister of defence, Duncan Sandys, that British forces within SEATO would possess nuclear weapons; Macmillan authorised assurances to the Tunku regarding deployment. Eventually, the agreement was signed on 12 October 1957, the governments of Australia and New Zealand associating themselves with it.60 ‘Merdeka’ arrived for Malaya on 31 August 1957. The Macmillan government was confident that stability would obtain, communism would be held in check, and the Malayan economy would flourish with British companies making a major contribution. Some reservations existed regarding the potential for racial clashes in future but it was believed that the moderate leadership of UMNO should be capable of handling these matters with restraint. The relationships between Malaya, Singapore and other British territories and protectorates had still to be determined.

Indochina Developments in Indochina began to occupy more time in the Foreign Office and in other government departments from 1948–49 onwards. This was the consequence of the extension of the Cold War to Asia and of growing doubts concerning French policy. Anglo-French relations were influenced primarily by events in Europe: reconstruction of Western Europe in the face of the perceived Soviet threat rendered close cooperation with France imperative. Speculation in Whitehall focused on the viability of the ‘Bao Dai solution’. The former emperor, having departed to Hong Kong in 1946, following his break with Ho Chi Minh, engaged in exchanges with French emissaries as a result of which Bao Dai consented to work with France on the understanding that genuine endeavours would be made to advance self-government in Vietnam (and Cambodia and Laos). The Elysee accords were signed in Paris by Bao Dai and President Vincent Auriol in March 1949; however, they were not ratified by the French Assembly until January 1950, which


was confirmation of the French inability to grasp the urgency of the situation. Bao Dai spent more time in France, partly on the Riviera. He had reasonable sums to lubricate his sybaritic lifestyle and it was reported that he was enjoying ‘the flesh pots of Paris and Cannes’. Ernest Bevin minuted grimly ‘They deserve to lose their thrones.’61 The British consul general in Saigon, Frank Gibbs, discussed Vietnamese reactions to the announcement of the accords signed in March 1949: these were reserved and unenthusiastic. No one believed that the ‘Bao Dai solution’ would succeed. It was regarded as France’s last card ‘but many suspect that she is playing it in the hope of getting American aid and she has had it up her sleeve for so long that when it appears on the table it is likely to be rather limp’.62 The prominent American journalist, Stewart Alsop, commented in the New York Herald Tribune, in June 1949, that the ‘portly playboy’, Bao Dai, devoted excessive time to his leisure interests – ‘Besides the extermination of wild beasts, his other recorded enthusiasm is the corps de ballet of Hongkong’s taxi dance halls.’63 Bao Dai was intelligent and revealed a certain perception but he enjoyed limited support in Vietnam while he relied, in vain, on the French achieving military victory. The principal British advocate for supporting Bao Dai was Malcolm MacDonald, the commissioner general in Southeast Asia. MacDonald argued that Bao Dai had positive qualities, which could be deployed in the interests of Vietnam and broader Western strategy. On 28 November 1949, he reported that the ‘Bao Dai solution’ had rather more than ‘50% chance of success’.64 The Vietminh still controlled large areas and it was vital that steps were taken to enhance the credibility of Bao Dai’s government. There had been some improvement in the military situation, notably in Cochin-China and Tonkin; the position was less encouraging in Annam. MacDonald stated that Bao Dai and his supporters wanted to receive assistance from Britain and the United States in exerting pressure on the French authorities to ensure that they fulfilled the pledges contained in the agreement signed by Bao Dai and Auriol. ‘Bao Dai and his supporters all say that help from us, in particular, and also from the Americans will be most valuable to them. If some form of diplomatic recognition is possible that will be best of all.’65 Bao Dai would welcome Indian and other Asian support but it was more important to secure British and American endorsement. Three days later, MacDonald confirmed his positive opinion of Bao Dai – ‘talkative, intelligent and charming. He has physical courage, patriotism and independence from subservience to the French’.66 In December 1949, MacDonald deplored


the decision to defer recognition, pending the outcome of the Colombo conference, which was due to meet in January 1950. Clearly, he felt that the significance of Indochina must be appreciated: It is now the most important bastion defending the democratic cause in South East Asia. If our Asian and French friends can hold Indo-China against Communist threat, there is reasonable chance of every other country in South East Asia being held. If Indo-China is lost, then Siam and Burma will probably go the same way soon afterwards.67 The PRC and the Soviet Union extended formal recognition to the DRV in January 1950. It was a catalyst and appeared to confirm that developments in Indochina were part of a wider communist conspiracy. Suspicions of the intentions of Peking and Moscow were stimulated in Washington.68 Britain and the United States could no longer delay, and they extended recognition to the State of Vietnam (and to the French-backed governments in Cambodia and Laos) in February 1950. The Foreign Office decided to encourage other countries to grant recognition. Esler Dening wrote to Sir Oliver Harvey, the ambassador in Paris, on 2 March 1950 that British envoys in Italy, the Philippines, Thailand, Burma, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Portugal, Persia, Belgium, Greece, Switzerland, Indonesia and Egypt urged recognition. Thailand had indeed recognised the State of Vietnam. However, doubts were expressed regarding freedom of decision-making enjoyed by Bao Dai. Dening observed that more could be done in Paris and Saigon to provide credibility for Bao Dai’s administration: this could include transferring responsibility from the Ministry of Overseas France to the Quai d’Orsay (or to a separate ministry), statements by Bao Dai and the French authorities concerning Chinese and Russian recognition of the DRV and building the prestige of Bao Dai’s administration.69 Later in March the French embassy in London supplied a list of countries which had recognised the State of Vietnam – Great Britain, Belgium, Australia, New Zealand, the United States, Luxembourg, Greece, Bolivia, Italy, Thailand, Honduras, Brazil, Costa Rica, Jordan, Republic of Korea, Spain and the Vatican.70 The Soviet Union, China, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, the satellite states in central and eastern Europe plus Yugoslavia had recognised Ho Chi Minh’s government.71 In May 1950, MacDonald reiterated that more must be done to strengthen Bao Dai’s position; he had been informed by a visiting French official that President Auriol was opposed to granting further concessions to Bao


Dai.72 This was confirmed in a press interview Auriol gave to Reuter’s correspondent in Paris, Harold King. Auriol also made clear his annoyance at American criticism of French policy: the United States ‘was constantly sniping at French conduct’ while ‘France was fighting this battle on behalf of European civilization’.73 Auriol warned of deeper implications: if the French departed from Indochina, they would experience pressure in Madagascar and North Africa – the French Union would itself be at stake. This was to be a familiar theme in the next few years. The problem for France was that it required American economic assistance but French ministers and officials were reluctant to accept that the United States would intervene in the affairs of Indochina. The beginning of large-scale American economic aid dated from May 1950. Within three years, the United States would be paying the bulk of the cost of the fighting in Indochina. The outbreak of the Korean War in June 1950 accentuated anxiety over the situation in Indochina.74 The French military seemed no nearer achieving success and scepticism over French prospects increased. Bevin met three representatives of the parliamentary Labour party on 8 November 1950 and expressed disappointment that the French had not acted with the decisiveness shown by the British government in the Indian subcontinent in 1947. He ruled out any prospect of British troops becoming involved in Indochina. His parliamentary under-secretary, Ernest Davies, recorded Bevin’s statement as follows: ‘... our troops were sufficiently involved in Korea, Malaya and elsewhere and that we could not enter into further commitments and he did not favour it’.75 The French government made one bold attempt to secure greater influence over the deterioration in Indochina by announcing the appointment of General de Lattre de Tassigny as the new high commissioner and military supremo. It was analogous to the Churchill government’s decision to appoint Templer in 1952.76 De Lattre was dynamic, charismatic and reminded British officials of General Douglas MacArthur with all that this comparison suggested.77 De Lattre visited London in December 1950 for meetings with the chiefs of staff. He also met Bevin on 8 December. This occurred soon after China’s dramatic entry into the Korean War and it overshadowed discussion. De Lattre said that China should not be provoked into further intervention in Indochina and Bevin responded that the Attlee government favoured negotiations with China over the Korean conflict. De Lattre defined Tonkin as ‘the key to the defence of South-East Asia because it guarded the doorway to Siam and Burma’.78 He added that Russia and China wished to achieve a chain of communist states around their borders in Asia from Korea

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to Burma and ultimately India. De Lattre stated that war with China must be avoided, at least in the short term; for this reason, it was not desirable to deploy American or British forces in Indochina; Bevin concurred. De Lattre inquired if Britain could lend an aircraft carrier, to be crewed by French personnel; France would also require aircraft from the United States. De Lattre emphasised that ‘he was therefore going to Indo-China determined to hold out there as long as possible’.79 At de Lattre’s request a former British military attaché in Nanking (1945–49), Brigadier Leonard Field, was appointed as liaison officer to de Lattre’s administration: de Lattre thought highly of Field and Bevin deemed it wise to fulfil his request.80 De Lattre was realistic in contemplating the huge challenges awaiting him. He sought to re-galvanise French policy through vigorous leadership to produce a revival in morale. However, the French lacked resources: in September 1950, their forces in Indochina totalled approximately 150,000, divided about equally between French, native Indochinese and African/Foreign Legion.81 The French attitude was ambivalent: they were reluctant to consider independence for Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos but the French government would not send young conscripts to Indochina in contrast to the British who sent conscripts to fight in Malaya and Korea. The casualty rate among French officers was high: among those killed, in May 1951, was de Lattre’s only son, Lieutenant Bernard de Lattre de Tassigny.82 De Lattre brought about evanescent improvement: it was beyond his capacity to achieve fundamental change. China increased its aid to the Vietminh significantly and de Lattre believed that it would be too dangerous to provoke China. Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos theoretically became independent states on 1 January 1951; however, France retained control of defence and foreign policy. Gibbs, the British representative in Saigon, correctly observed that French concessions were always too late and doomed to failure. The problems facing Bao Dai’s administration were daunting and the calibre of its members inspired little confidence: ‘The present Government is one of mediocrities and does not possess the force necessary to curb these centrifugal tendencies.’83 Gibbs met de Lattre for dinner on 31 January 1951. He explained that it was unfortunately not possible for Britain to lend an aircraft carrier for use off the coast of Indochina. De Lattre spoke frankly of his dissatisfaction with the nature of the Vietnamese government. Bao Dai spent too much time hunting and he had recently transferred large sums of money to France and Morocco: Bao Dai intended purchasing property in Morocco in case he was compelled to leave Vietnam. The Vietnamese army should be


expanded but de Lattre pondered the presence of insidious corruption and ways to combat it.84 MacDonald considered lack of political skill to be de Lattre’s main weakness. He wrote in a private letter that de Lattre was a ‘terrific chap’ who had made an enormous contribution on the military side.85 But he was too inclined to use ‘parade-ground methods of ordering and chivvying’ instead of adopting a subtle approach.86 MacDonald repeated his sympathy for Bao Dai: ‘The Emperor has some good qualities as an Oriental statesman but he needs to be pushed and encouraged judiciously.’87 In an earlier despatch, he remarked on the similarity between de Lattre and MacArthur: ‘So remarkable is their likeness that sometimes I found myself wondering whether I was watching, in a game of charades, a brilliant mimicry of General de Lattre de Tassigny by General MacArthur, or a life-like take-off of General MacArthur by General de Lattre de Tassigny.’88 De Lattre was successful in communicating personal interest in his troops. In a MacArthur-like observation, de Lattre said that when his term ended, he should be replaced by a capable ambassador and ‘a General less important than himself’.89 De Lattre conceded that some French officials were reactionary and that there was a splendid opportunity to implement economic and social reform in Vietnam. He stressed his ‘dislike and deep suspicion of American policy in South East Asia in general and in Indo-China in particular’.90 He suspected that the United States might want to attack China, utilising the territories of Indochina, Burma and Thailand to fulfil this aim. De Lattre was opposed to counter-guerrilla training carried out by Americans in Vietnam and he had terminated an agreement with the Americans. He was worried at American support for KMT troops in Burma, an anxiety shared by British officials. De Lattre touched on the irony of the Americans’ increasing aid to the French while they simultaneously undermined French authority. This was an accurate, succinct assessment of the curious character of the final phase of French presence in Indochina. De Lattre’s health worsened markedly in the latter part of 1951: he was suffering from cancer, although this was not revealed officially. The ambassador in Paris wrote to the Foreign Office that before long Britain and the United States would be faced with a French request for direct military assistance in Indochina. The war was unpopular because of the drain on French resources and the difficulties caused for the development of French metropolitan forces. French socialists were tending to favour withdrawal and a prominent Radical, Pierre Mendes-France, courageously reiterated that France could not sustain the burden in


Indochina. Some felt that it would be best to depart and concentrate on defending the French position in Africa. Interestingly, Harvey compared the economic significance of Malaya with that of Indochina – ‘Unlike our own position in Malaya, the French position in Indo-China does not seem to be regarded any longer as of very great economic importance to France.’91 De Lattre died in January 1952: his passing marked the end of the brief phase during which restrained optimism had returned. Pessimism now prevailed and it led the new Conservative foreign secretary, Anthony Eden, to minute: ‘We must be careful not to spread alarm & despondency ourselves about French position in IndoChina. It is a British interest that the French should stay in Indo-China & we should try to encourage them to do so & the Americans too.’92 The United States was the principal source of aid to the French but Britain also contributed. In a report compiled in December 1952, it was noted that in the course of the previous year Britain had supplied equipment worth £4.5 million. The chief item was 350,000 rounds of 25-pounder ammunition, of which 100,000 rounds were shipped in June and July, and 250,000 rounds were currently being packed for shipment. The balance comprised 60 marine engines and three Dakota aircraft plus nine S.51 helicopters; one S.55 helicopter was on order. These were normal sales. Britain supplied the following free of charge: ●

● ● ●

46,000 rounds of 3.7 AA ammunition (Canada provided part as mutual aid); 383,000 rounds of 75 mm ammunition; 141,000 rounds of howitzer ammunition; 50,000 rounds of 37 mm ammunition.

These were surplus lend lease supplies. Britain offered storage facilities in Singapore.93 In December 1952, French military strength in Indochina was estimated at 490,082; of this figure, the French comprised 56,390, the majority being a mixture of African, Foreign Legion and indigenous troops.94 In November 1952, Anthony Rumbold of the British embassy in Paris met Pierre Mendes-France and discussed Indochina. MendesFrance said that if he held office, he would negotiate with the Vietminh; it would be more awkward than two years before but not as difficult as it would be in two years time.95 He thought it should be possible to reach agreement on elections under UN auspices; it would be 18 months before the French were ready to leave Indochina. He eliminated the contingency of having American troops in Indochina because it


would encourage Chinese intervention. Mendes-France claimed that most French people shared his opinion. Rumbold was impressed and recommended that Eden or R.A. Butler (chancellor of the exchequer) should meet Mendes-France when he visited London at the end of November.96 During the summer and autumn of 1953, British diplomats continued to speculate on the role of the enigmatic Bao Dai: could he yet make a positive contribution or was it more probable that he would be deposited into Trotsky’s capacious ‘dustbin of history’? At the end of June 1953, ‘Micky’ Joy reported from Saigon on a meeting with Bao Dai: the latter was concentrating on building a new army. He was concerned with how to cope in the event of a French decision to withdraw.97 Joy remarked that Bao Dai was treading carefully amidst emerging nationalist aspirations.98 A month later, he wrote of the pressure falling on Bao Dai: he identified Ngo Dinh Diem as a potential threat to Bao Dai’s position, since Diem had avoided the French embrace and he possessed appeal for some anti-communist nationalists.99 When asked by the Foreign Office whether Bao Dai could be tempted to negotiate with Ho Chi Minh, Joy thought not, although he conceded that there was an elusive quality to Bao Dai – ‘There must always be an element of doubt about him, shut away in the Annamite highlands as he is with his secretive personal staff.’100 The British mission in Saigon felt that Bao Dai maintained some contact with the Vietminh but probably not at a senior level; Bao Dai could not revert to the role of ‘Comrade Vinh Thuy’, as he had been known in 1945–46.101 As usual, the great champion of Bao Dai was Malcolm MacDonald. He sent a positive assessment to the Foreign Office in September 1953. He regarded Bao Dai as able, intelligent and widely underestimated. MacDonald held that Bao Dai possessed information that enabled him to appreciate the finer points as to how the situation was evolving in Indochina: he inferred that this was linked with the considerable time Bao Dai spent in the remote highlands at Dalat and in the ‘even more inaccessible plateau’ at Banmethout instead of dwelling in Saigon, Hanoi or Hue. Many attributed his preference for the remote areas to indolence ‘because he has no active interest in public affairs, delights instead in rustic dalliance with his concubines, loves the excitement of hunting elephants and tigers, and is insensitive to the appeal for patriotic endeavour’.102 MacDonald conceded that Bao Dai was fond of women and hunting but weaknesses in character should not be distorted. He did not linger in Saigon or Hanoi to avoid being patronised by the French. Bao Dai was biding his time; he wished to gain support from some of the nationalists currently backing the

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Vietminh. His remoteness was calculated to enhance his independence. Bao Dai was always well informed and this included information on Vietminh-controlled areas. ‘Is he, unobserved in Dalat and Banmethout, maintaining contact with agents from Nationalist, nonCommunist elements amongst Ho Chi Minh’s followers?’103 MacDonald speculated that Bao Dai might be preparing for the day when the army in Vietnam was much stronger than permitted by the French. On the negative side, Bao Dai lacked charisma and appeared shy or awkward in public. Overall, MacDonald thought he was more formidable than generally believed: He is an Oriental of a certain well-known type. Shunning the limelight, he works more naturally in the shadow. He is a man not of the market place, the battle-field, or the rostrum, but of the bedroom, the hunting lodge and the council chamber. To use a metaphor, he is less an actor performing on the stage than a producer directing from the wings. He is a subtle, clever, patient and far-seeing political manipulator.104 Professor B.R. Pearn, the resident academic in the Foreign Office Research Department, disagreed with MacDonald. Bao Dai lacked application and was easily seduced by the meretricious appeal of gambling and hunting. His career had been peculiar, embracing collaboration with the French, Japanese, Ho Chi Minh, and then the French again. Pearn doubted whether Bao Dai gained from dwelling in Dalat or Banmethout. However, he possessed some positive features and ‘is the best card there is to play’.105 A sense of balance must be preserved: there was no justification for seeing him ‘as a superman or as one of the great men of Asia (or even South-East Asia) today’.106 The other major personality was Ho Chi Minh and growing speculation concerning his future contribution developed in the second half of 1953. The Economist published a leading article, entitled ‘Retrospect on Ho Chi Minh’, on 4 July 1953. He was described as a skilful negotiator who had made a genuine effort to reach agreement with the French government in 1945–46. The author of the article thought it was possible that Ho could negotiate a compromise with the French in 1953 – ‘Even now it is by no means certain that Ho Chi Minh would reject any settlement short of complete victory. The record of Ho as a negotiator is one of a rather supple and adaptable leader who is prepared to compromise when the situation requires it.’107 At about the same time, R.A. Burrows of the Foreign Office lunched with I. Milton Sacks, previously


at the Indochina desk in the American State Department and currently holding an academic post at Yale. Sacks left the State Department after clashing with the ‘China lobby’. Burrows valued his opinion and suspected that he might still have a connection with the American government. Sacks dismissed as wild allegations of a ‘Vietminh threat to South-East Asia’: the Vietminh were interested in Indochina and not other areas. If the French departed, Ho Chi Minh would take power. He thought that Ho could develop into an independent leader. ‘The possibility of his turning out to be a Tito was not entirely wishful thinking. He shared with Tito the record of having fought his own fight unaided for a long time. In this he was quite different from the creatures imposed by Russia on the Eastern European states.’108 Sacks recommended that the West should aim to secure free elections in Indochina under UN auspices. He believed that Ho would accept such an offer. Sacks said that Ho would win but the proportion of non-Vietminh votes would be quite high, perhaps attaining 40 per cent.109 It is worth noting that the Foreign Office sent a summary of this discussion to chanceries in Saigon, Paris and Washington and to the office of the commissioner general in Singapore. The Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) in London reflected along similar lines in an interesting memorandum produced in December 1953. The paper addressed the theme of ‘Anti-Soviet Communism’ and it discussed the records of communist movements which had broken with Moscow or had acted independently. Yugoslavia was the conspicuous example of independence. Marshal Tito was not prepared to be a Stalinist puppet and he had broken with Moscow in 1948. China and Albania might break in the future, although the latter was deemed less likely given the current Albanian leadership. Could Titoism develop elsewhere? The gaze of the JIC alighted on Indochina and the elusive Ho Chi Minh. The JIC argued that Titoism might become significant in the long term: At first sight Ho has many of the attributes of Tito. He is not a Soviet creation in the sense that the leaders of Eastern European countries are, and he has so far fought his own battles. He has, however, received much material assistance and encouragement from China and the USSR. His prestige is tremendously high in nationalist circles in Indo-China and elsewhere in Asia. Perhaps most important, there is a deep rooted antagonism in the Associate States to Chinese penetration. This antagonism might induce Ho Chi Minh, once established, to pursue an independent policy.110

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The paper concluded that ‘If Ho Chi Minh obtained control of IndoChina and showed signs of pursuing an independent policy it would be to our interest to show him, as we showed Tito, that independence from Moscow and Peking would not leave him isolated.’111 Therefore, Ho continued to exert his customary fascination: without doubt he was the outstanding personality in Vietnam and left to its own devices, Vietnam would have chosen Ho as its leader. Circumstances pushed him further into the embrace of China, a fate he certainly did not relish.112 The tragic climax to the French era occurred in 1953–54. General Henri Navarre, the latest commander, decided on a different strategy, which included strengthening the supposed fortress of Dien Bien Phu, situated in western Tonkin bordering Laos. Navarre wanted to hinder Vietminh communications and to give visibility to the French presence. It was a rash move and incorporated grave underestimation of the capability of the Vietminh to undermine and destroy the French position at Dien Bien Phu.113 The French predicament was so acute as to focus attention of the United States and British governments on the best way to respond. President Eisenhower and Secretary of State Dulles were dominated by the fear of toppling dominoes in Southeast Asia, the consequent advance of communism, and the resultant uproar from right-wing Republicans. Vice-President Nixon and Senators Knowland and McCarthy advocated forthright resistance to ‘Red China’, which was believed to be manipulating movements such as the Vietminh. Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, was an extreme critic of China and urged tough action. Winston Churchill was in declining health but his mind was sharp when he concentrated sufficiently. Churchill was deeply respected in the United States and was regarded as the bulldog personification of resistance to fascist or communist aggression. However, Churchill became more critical of American policy in 1953 and he courageously advocated dialogue with the Soviet Union.114 Emotionally, Churchill felt much sympathy for the doomed defenders of Dien Bien Phu: the siege appealed to the romantic within him and reminded him of the battles in which he had participated in his youth. However, Churchill’s vast experience and mature judgement dictated caution rather than intervention. Anthony Eden had returned to the Foreign Office after the botched operation which had nearly cost him his life: his health was poor and his vigorous role in diplomacy was a triumph of will over physical suffering.115 The challenges presented by the dangerous situation in Indochina and the closely associated international conference, held in Geneva in the summer of 1954, represented


the summit of Eden’s achievements as foreign secretary. His endeavours were fully supported by Churchill and the cabinet. Eisenhower and Dulles contemplated intervention in Indochina including possible use of nuclear weapons. In a reversal of previous American policy, they developed enthusiasm for a new alliance in Southeast Asia, which could be used to resist communism in Indochina. Churchill and Eden supported the concept of a defensive alliance in Southeast Asia but they did not favour establishing it in the midst of the developing crisis in Indochina. Dulles visited London in early April 1954 and believed that Eden had agreed that direct intervention might be necessary.116 Eden denied that he had given an explicit undertaking; this marked the acceleration of divergence between London and Washington, which continued until the Manila conference, in September 1954, when SEATO emerged. The fundamental aim of British policy was to prevent escalation of a regional crisis into a far greater crisis, threatening a third world war. The Eisenhower administration had to cope with public opinion influenced by McCarthyism and right-wing Republicans occupied prominent posts.117 The Churchill government faced no pressure of this nature: instead, it enjoyed the support of the Labour and Liberal parties in its endeavours to contain conflict in Indochina. On 24 April, Eden reported from Paris on tense exchanges with Dulles and Radford. The latter was highly excitable and warned of dire consequences when Dien Bien Phu surrendered. Eden inquired whether air intervention by American and British forces would transform the situation: he warned of the perils of escalation. Radford said that he did not think that China would intervene; he identified the crucial weakness as French incompetence. Bao Dai spoke in alarmist tones of inexorable communist expansion, which would affect Thailand and even Malaya. Eden agreed that Indochina was important but he doubted whether military intervention in Indochina would be worth the risks involved – ‘Certainly from the political point of view Mr. Dulles was confronting British opinion with about as difficult a decision as it would be possible to find.’118 On 26 April, Churchill entertained Admiral Radford and his colleague, Captain George Anderson, to dinner at Chequers. Radford tried to convince the prime minister of the case for intervention in Indochina: he depicted a dire scenario in which communism expanded into Asia, the Middle East and Africa in consequence of Western failure to stop the ‘Reds’ in Indochina. Radford emphasised that the time had come to take a stand against China. Churchill responded that the surrender of Dien Bien Phu would be a critical event: he was reminded of

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the desperate position in Warsaw in 1919 when the Bolsheviks were stopped by Marshal Pilsudski’s forces, with advice tendered by General Weygand and Lord d’Abernon. However, Churchill viewed developments in Southeast Asia differently: The British people would not be easily influenced by what happened in the distant jungles of S.E.Asia; but they did know that there was a powerful American base in East Anglia and that war with China, who would invoke the Sino-Russian Pact, might mean an assault by Hydrogen bombs on these islands. We could not commit ourselves at this moment when all these matters were about to be discussed at Geneva to a policy which might lead by slow stages to catastrophe.119 Churchill thought that the most appropriate course was to hold discussions, the aim being to persuade the Soviet Union not to embark on ‘the folly of war’. These exchanges might or might not prove successful but the British people would prefer to follow this path instead of participating in fighting in Southeast Asia. The prime minister played his trump card of his enormous experience of international diplomacy and war extending back into the nineteenth century. He desired close relations with the United States and he had devoted ‘a great part of his life and strength to this end’. But the British government could not support a policy that could end in destruction. He added that the French should withdraw to parts of Indochina which could be held and Britain would reserve its position, pending the outcome of the Geneva conference. Radford and Anderson stated that they understood the British position but they regretted failure to agree on action in Indochina.120 Churchill softened the blow by presenting his guests with a signed copy each of the latest volume of his history of the Second World War; he felt that they departed reasonably content, although without attaining their military objective.121 Eisenhower and Dulles deplored the emerging rift in Anglo-American relations. Dulles met Eden in Geneva on 1 May and spoke of his wish to make rapid progress with a defence pact for Southeast Asia. Eden denied that Britain was retreating on undertakings given previously. Eden told Dulles that it was essential to clarify what was being proposed: Britain could not support military action in Indochina. Dulles replied ‘that he did not think that anybody was advocating military intervention in Indo-China, though he understood that perhaps some remarks of Admiral Radford whom he was inclined to criticise, had caused us to draw back in our attitude towards the pact. Admiral Radford, however,


was not the spokesman of the United States. Only the President and he could express their Government’s opinion.’122 Anglo-American relations were very strained and tension persisted throughout the Geneva conference and for some time thereafter. The deliberations at Geneva in the summer of 1954 were strange and unexpected: a temporary realignment occurred among Western and communist states. On the Western side, Britain pursued a different policy from that urged by the United States. Britain’s role as co-chairman of the Geneva conference pushed it into closer cooperation with fellow chairman, the Soviet Union. Subsequently, this cooperation was extended to include China. The three countries had in common determination to secure a diplomatic solution: none wanted escalation into military conflict, possibly leading to a third world war. The willingness of Russia and China to compromise caused strain in their relations with the DRV: Ho Chi Minh could see the tide flowing in the direction desired and he resented the conduct of the big comrades in preparing to sell out the Vietnamese people by denying them unification. France originally wanted military assistance from its allies but, in the course of the Geneva conference, moved towards the British preference for a diplomatic solution. The State of Vietnam feared the likely outcome of the conference – unification, as the DRV expanded under Ho’s charismatic direction. A flavour of the curious atmosphere in Geneva is captured in Eden’s record of an amicable dinner with Molotov, the Soviet foreign minister, on 5 May. They had a cordial discussion and did not diverge on any topic. Molotov’s theme was that success or failure would rest with themselves. Eden agreed and at one point said that ‘this was the most difficult conference in which I had ever taken part, and M. Molotov said that he shared my opinion’.123 The conference was arranged originally to achieve a political settlement in Korea, following the armistice concluded in July 1953.124 Eden observed that Indochina was now clearly far more urgent than Korea and Molotov concurred. Molotov professed puzzlement at the American attitude towards China; Eden commented that the Americans were still highly emotional over China and he could not comprehend why communism had triumphed. Molotov said that the Soviet Union had thought well of Chiang Kai-shek and had not anticipated the speed of Mao’s victory in 1948–49. He remarked that the Americans should be realistic over China. Eden reflected at the end of a telegram that the Russians seemed sincere in desiring an agreed ceasefire in Indochina. Eden hurled himself into the onerous business in Geneva with enthusiasm and vigour. Despite ill-health and the immense pressures


he experienced, Eden worked patiently for compromise and peace. The awkward feature was continuous American carping and criticism. Dulles spent little time in Geneva: he did not want to be identified with concessions to communism and he was adamant that he would never be photographed shaking hands with Chou En-lai who had arrived to lead the Chinese delegation. Dulles delegated discussion largely to his deputy, General Walter Bedell Smith. Eden found the latter easier to deal with but the familiar arguments persisted. On 20 May, Eden had a lengthy discussion with Chou. They agreed that a ceasefire should be adopted simultaneously throughout Indochina. Chou spoke of the genuine character of the ‘resistance movements’ in Cambodia and Laos.125 Eden retorted that reports reaching him indicated that the Khmer and Pathet Lao ‘governments’ did not really exist and that the movements referred to had only displayed signs of life earlier in 1954; Chou responded that resistance movements had operated during the Pacific War. Eden warned that some in the West suspected that the Vietminh wished to take control of the whole of Indochina.126 Eden favoured ‘a Locarno-type pact’ designed to achieve ‘a wide guarantee of the Indo-China settlement, action under which would not be subject to a communist “veto” ’.127 He commended it to Dulles when they met in Washington on 28 June but Dulles rejected it, arguing that ‘an affirmative guarantee of an agreement on Indo-China amounted to moral approval of a Communist success’.128 Eden welcomed the emergence of Pierre Mendes-France as French prime minister. Mendes-France had long been a trenchant critic of war in Indochina. He was more perceptive than most of his parliamentary colleagues and he took a certain pleasure in reminding them of their past errors. Unsurprisingly this did not enhance his popularity amidst the murky politics of the Fourth Republic but his courage and incisiveness won grudging respect. Eden met Mendes-France and Dulles in Paris on 14 July. Mendes-France strongly urged Dulles to return to Geneva but he declined. Eden praised Mendes-France warmly: he had ‘fought his corner brilliantly and I am more than ever convinced that for the first time since we resumed office we have a Frenchman who knows what he wants and will fight for it’.129 In contrast Dulles ‘cut a sorry figure tonight in his attempts to explain why the Americans could not face the responsibilities of any Geneva decisions’.130 Dulles referred to the pressures of ‘internal American politics’ and ‘kept quoting Yalta’.131 Eden met Chou En-lai twice in the middle of July. Chou told Eden on 13 July that he had seen Ho Chi Minh and reached an understanding with him. Chou had also spoken to Nehru, U Nu and Mendes-France. Chou thought that it should be


possible to agree on the future status of Cambodia and Laos – ‘... it was essential that no foreign bases should be established in these two States and that they should not join military alliances’.132 Eden concurred and observed that other states such as the Colombo pact countries should be associated with agreements reached in Geneva. Chou criticised the American inclination towards military alliances: Eden reminded him that many Americans were suspicious of Chinese intentions and feared that the Chinese might embark on expansion in Southeast Asia.133 No doubt some in China entertained analogous fears regarding possible American expansion. Chou praised past statements by Churchill and Eden concerning the necessity for internal cooperation and ‘peaceful co-existence’.134 They met again on 17 July: Chou inquired about plans to create a new defence organization in Southeast Asia and the future relationship between this body and the associate States in Indochina. Eden explained that he had supported establishment of a defensive alliance in Southeast Asia: it would threaten no state and would be the counterpart of the Soviet-Chinese alliance – ‘So far as I know it was not the intention that the three Associated States should be members. The Americans had made it clear that they had no desire to create bases in these States.’135 Eden added that a new alliance would be restricted to Southeast Asia; it would not extend to the western Pacific. The Australia, New Zealand, United States (ANZUS) pact existed already, and China had not complained about it. Chou argued that the Sino-Soviet pact and ANZUS were both framed in the context of revived Japanese militarism. Chou stated that China would support a ‘Locarno-type arrangement’, joined by as many states as possible, ‘so that a large area of peaceful co-existence in Asia should be created’.136 Chou reiterated that Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos should be independent, sovereign and neutral states. Eden said that the creation of SEATO should not cause alarm: it would not be incompatible with an agreement on Indochina. The Geneva conference concluded with approval of the ‘Geneva accords’. The ceasefire should apply throughout Indochina. Vietnam was divided at the seventeenth parallel with the DRV to the north and the State of Vietnam to the south. Elections were to be held throughout Vietnam in 1956 to achieve unification. The French military would withdraw from Vietnam and there were supposed to be no military bases in Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. International commissions were established to supervise disarmament and assist with any problems that might arise: reports would be submitted to the co-chairmen (Britain and the Soviet Union). The accords were endorsed by Britain, France, the Soviet Union, China, the DRV, Cambodia and Laos. The State of Vietnam refused to


sign or to be bound by the accords. The United States said that it would note the existence of the accords but it would not be bound by the accords. The outcome of the deliberations in Geneva was a fudged solution but it was the best attainable. Eden worked tirelessly to achieve a negotiated result and he fully deserved the tributes paid to him in the final session on 21 July. Molotov commented ‘Naturally I must stress the outstanding services and the outstanding role played by our Chairman today, Mr. Eden, whose role in the Geneva Conference cannot be exaggerated.’137 Bedell Smith spoke briefly of the ‘patience’ and ‘tireless efforts’ of both chairmen. Eden stated that it had proved a complex, demanding conference and the results should justify the time devoted to the issues: the ceasefire and other agreements represented the best that could be accomplished. Pham Van Dong spoke on behalf of the DRV and emphasised his hopes for peace and friendship and for future cooperation with France. Chou En-lai praised Mendes-France, Eden and Molotov.138 The Geneva conference succeeded in securing a ceasefire and in preventing fighting from escalating into a more dangerous conflict. However, the fudged outcome amounted to papering over ominous cracks and the likelihood was that the cracks would widen again. Much would then depend on the skills shown by politicians and diplomats at that time. The results of the Geneva conference were to a large extent the product of the tenacity and dedication demonstrated by Eden in navigating the treacherous waters: the conference represented the greatest achievement of Eden’s long career. Therefore, by the middle of the 1950s it was clear that Malaya would soon attain independence and that communism was declining, although constituting more of a threat in Singapore. British policy was realistic in Malaya but nation building acquired momentum of its own and led Britain to grant independence sooner than had been contemplated. French policy in Indochina lacked the flexibility displayed by the British in Malaya: concessions to nationalism were always made reluctantly and implementation delayed for as long as possible. Prospects for the ‘Bao Dai solution’ materialising into viability evaporated amidst French ineptitude between 1948 and 1952. The question in 1954–55 was whether the State of Vietnam could survive or whether it would be assimilated within the DRV led by the wily Ho Chi Minh. French policy had pushed Ho into relying more heavily on China and the Soviet Union for aid and confirmed Ho’s stature as the outstanding leader in Vietnam.

3 Two Approaches to Containing Communism: The Colombo Plan and SEATO

The West promoted two discrete approaches to containing communism in the 1950s. One was primarily economic-social with an underlying political purpose; the other comprised a defensive organisation. Their character, achievements and failings will now be discussed.

The Colombo Plan Communism flourished where poverty and neglect prevailed: it could be halted by investment in health, education and better living standards. This was argued firmly by Ernest Bevin and, despite grave ill-health, he travelled to Colombo, capital of Ceylon (Sri Lanka) in January 1950 for the inaugural conference of what became known as ‘the Colombo Plan’.1 In May 1951, the Treasury analysed motivation: British policy was influenced originally by four factors – the sterling area dollar position; a perceived American desire to extend aid to the Asian dominions via a convenient ‘umbrella’; British preference for the countries supporting the Plan to possess sufficient funds to facilitate sales of British manufactured goods; an ambitious cooperative effort that could generate enough money for the implementation of minimum development programmes.2 The significance attached to these factors changed, partly because of the impact of the Korean War: rearmament and growth in demand for primary materials had transformed the position, so that most of the countries in the region except India had moved from deficit to surplus in the budgetary and balance of payments fields. The Treasury adopted the characteristic stance of wishing the Plan to succeed while wanting simultaneously to minimise the sums of money contributed by Britain. 73


This exasperated other government departments and foreign governments. Percy Spender, the Australian external affairs minister, attacked British policy for lack of urgency when he addressed a Commonwealth conference in Sydney in May 1950.3 Consultations continued during a conference held in London in September–October 1950. The United States was approached to discuss the feasibility of a Commonwealth six-year-development programme for South and Southeast Asia. The countries envisaged as participating were India, Pakistan, Ceylon and British dependent territories; non-Commonwealth countries had not yet accepted participation with the exception of the Associate States of Indochina. American financial support was crucial to success.4 The Treasury proposed that the British contribution should be £60 million per annum from the middle of 1951 to the middle of 1957, £55 million of which would comprise sterling releases divided between India, Pakistan, Ceylon and British colonies in the area and £5 million for the nonCommonwealth governments deciding to participate (the figures for actual sterling releases in 1948 and 1949 to India, Pakistan, Ceylon and Malaya were £102 million and £184 million respectively).5 It was estimated that the future total required would be £265 million per annum of which the United States would be invited to inject approximately £130 million per annum. The Treasury calculated that the United States would be requested to meet around half of the total cost of the initial six-year period. The ambassadors of Burma, Thailand and Indonesia attended a meeting in the Foreign Office on 27 September 1950; they saw Malcolm MacDonald, Robert Scott and other officials. The delicate issue of possible French and Dutch membership was discussed and Scott indicated that a final decision could be deferred.6 Dean Acheson told Bevin that he was fully in sympathy with the aims; Bevin explained that he desired Australia rather than Britain to take the lead. The Plan envisaged a combination of self-help and mutual assistance between the developed and developing world; the Plan would be implemented in July 1951. Big advances in productivity of land and industry were desired with a corresponding increase in welfare and prosperity. Non-Commonwealth countries were cautious in their reactions: Burma and Indonesia were reluctant to move in the near future. It was significant that the representatives of the Associate States attended unaccompanied by French officials. An interim report produced at the London conference called for a total of £1000 million of external finance over a six-year period. The British Communist Party (BCP) denounced the plan as ‘a fraud and deception’. John Gollan, the party’s general secretary, wrote in the Daily Worker that it evaded

Two Approaches to Containing Communism

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fundamental questions as to why poverty existed in Asia: it ignored the evils of imperialism, abuses of land ownership and the need for a radical attack on oppression and privilege. Gollan perceived the core of the problem as ‘underemployment which results from the pressure of population on the land’.7 Of the sums stated, £1,084 million was assigned to ‘external’ sources, connoting Britain, Australia, Canada and the United States: the only confirmed figure were the sum of £246 million in debt repayment from British-held sterling balances and £60 million for colonial development within the six-year period. Gollan commented sardonically that the Attlee government was dependent on ‘assistance and capital from Wall Street ... here is the reality of the “World Mutual Aid” scheme launched with such publicity at the Margate Labour Party Conference’.8 Moves were proceeding to secure formal American adhesion. The Manchester Guardian leaked the news that the United States had been invited to join and the Foreign Office feared that the leak might embarrass the State Department.9 The United States joined officially in February 1951 on the understanding that the Plan was informal and advisory. As Daniel Oakman remarks, it is significant that the Americans wanted to delete ‘Commonwealth’ from the formal title of the Consultative Committee10; this was in line with the British wish to persuade Asian states outside the Commonwealth to participate. Malcolm MacDonald wanted rapid progress; in June 1951, he expressed anxiety at the fact that few Asian states had joined – he excluded the technical consultation programme which appeared to have been established successfully. He felt that more vigour should be shown in London. The Foreign Office desired expansion in membership to include Burma, Thailand, Indonesia and the Philippines (less enthusiastically in the case of the Philippines).11 Burma decided to join in January 1952 and was followed by Indonesia, Thailand and the Philippines. In a definition approved by the Foreign Office, the Australian government explained the structure of the Plan in a note to the Indonesian government submitted in December 1951. The Plan could be divided into two schemes, the Economic Development Programme (EDP), which was the principal component, and the much smaller Technical Cooperation Programme (TCP). The former dealt with major economic projects while the latter focused on aid concerning technical matters, equipment, materials, selected financial assistance targeted on specific educational institutions and projects. TCP functioned independently of EDP with a separate financial allocation: it was feasible for any country in South or Southeast Asia to participate in TCP without joining the Consultative


Committee. Large-scale projects included hydroelectric developments, extension of ports and harbours, improvements in transport and communications and cattle-breeding schemes. Indonesia or any other country could commit itself gradually.12 Discussions concerning adhesion of Japan, France and the Netherlands took place in 1951–52. The Foreign Office preferred to defer Japanese membership: this was in keeping with the negative British attitude towards Japanese membership of General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT).13 It was attributable to recollections of wartime atrocities and the part played by Japan in undermining the British Empire. The same response appeared from British administrators in Malaya where anxiety was voiced at Japanese economic penetration.14 Indian officials did not welcome the prospect of France and the Netherlands joining and they referred the question to Nehru. They doubted whether France could contribute positively in the light of problems arising from the conflict in Indochina. The reaction was similar in the case of the Netherlands because of the continuing dispute with Indonesia.15 Japan wanted to send an observer to attend the next meeting of the Consultative Committee in New Delhi; the Japanese ambassador in London was informed that Britain would not oppose the presence of an observer but would not take the initiative itself – ‘Our attitude towards actual Japanese membership of the Colombo Plan which is supported by the United States but opposed by Australia is the same.’16 During 1954, it was agreed that Japan should be admitted to membership. Richard Casey, the Australian external affairs minister, recommended Japanese admission, using anti-communist arguments to surmount suspicion of Japan. Australian participation in the Plan was vigorous and this reflected determination to pursue an active policy, as the British role declined. The Foreign Office noted that the original Australian offer of £25 million of capital, supplanted by gifts to India and Pakistan, made Australia the second largest contributor: keeping in mind that the British contribution of £300 million was partly repayment of sterling balances and partly expenditure in Britain’s colonies, ‘Australia has really been more generous than we have’.17 The Australian contribution to TCP was the same as the amount given by Britain – £2.8 million. One aspect worrying the Treasury and the Foreign Office was possible overlap between the Colombo Plan and SEATO when the latter emerged in 1954. Lord Reading wrote to Reginald Maudling, the economic secretary to the Treasury, discussing American interest in linking economic aid with SEATO: As you know, the Americans are toying with the idea of associating economic aid with the proposed treaty for a collective defence


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of South East Asia and the South West Pacific. There are dangers to the Colombo Plan in this, which we are considering here. It is too early to predict what the Americans may propose but I am sure that the Colombo Plan itself should not be hitched to South East Asian Defence. One of its main attractions to the countries of South East Asia has been its freedom from ‘strings’.18 The Treasury replied that the Plan could not be merged in SEATO. Reading could convey this opinion but uncertainties over global economic forecasts meant that caution must be exercised in undertaking future commitments.19 Reading observed ‘I think that we have persuaded the Treasury to go as far as can be expected at this stage.’20 He was satisfied with expanded membership and with Britain’s contribution in 1954. Support had been extended to the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development and this facilitated extension of loans. Pakistan continued to draw on £10 million credit agreed in 1953 for the purchase of equipment in Britain to assist agricultural projects. Release of sterling balances to India, Pakistan and Ceylon continued in accordance with existing arrangements; use of sterling held by non-sterling countries had been facilitated and sterling balances could be transferred freely for any purpose, capital or current. Britain was a major source for the area’s imports of engineering products and a backlog in orders had largely been cleared. Britain expanded educational provision to meet growing demand: training was principally in food and agriculture, engineering and technical education.21 The Ottawa meeting in October 1954 concluded that progress was good, if not as swift in some countries as anticipated. Public investment increased by 27 per cent in 1953–54 and it was expected to increase by 31 per cent in the current year; the cost of development in the public sector amounted to £537 million for 1953–54 and to £104 million for 1954–55. The rice crop was encouraging and food production had grown in India, Pakistan and Indonesia. Improvements in transport infrastructure had occurred and advances in education and health provision were encouraging. However, population was growing rapidly; financial problems relating to development needs remained serious and tax revenues had not increased in proportion to expenditure.22 The Soviet Union took some time to respond to the launching of the Colombo Plan. Soviet leaders announced a new programme of foreign aid in 1955 with the intention of demonstrating that the communist world was capable of matching, if not exceeding, the endeavours of the decadent West.23 Nikita Khruschev and other luminaries visited Asia in addition to pursuing initiatives in the Middle East. A headline in the

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Melbourne Herald in July 1955 read ‘Asia Gets a Red Colombo Plan’.24 British ministers and officials concentrated on refining the Plan and ensuring that policy adjusted to the pace of change. In the summer of 1959, a planning paper was produced by a steering committee in the Foreign Office, the terms of reference reading ‘How can we best counter Chinese and Russian penetration in South and South East Asia and do the possible future roles of India and Japan make any modification of Her Majesty’s Government’s policy necessary in order to achieve this aim?’25 It was vital to meet the challenge from Russia and China plus the threat posed by indigenous communism. The position diverged from that experienced in the Middle East in that ‘there was no unifying factor to correspond with that of Pan-Arab sentiment ...’.26 British interests were extensive but there was ‘no single interest, such as oil, which is of immediate and vital importance to us’.27 As British intelligence concluded earlier, communist movements would rely on subversion rather than widespread aggression or invasion – ‘The danger from subversion is greatest where there is agrarian discontent or frustration among the more highly educated or members of the armed services, and where inefficiency, dishonesty and lack of security are marked characteristics of the country or of its administration.’28 Chinese communities constituted ‘a potential fifth column’. The recent Soviet economic offensive was directed principally against India, Indonesia, Afghanistan, Burma, Cambodia, Nepal and Ceylon. Soviet aid was designed to promote neutralism. Colonial empires were disappearing and nationalist leaders resented external interference: ‘Asian neutralism and determination to avoid both entangling alliances and outside interference are symbols of this passionate insistence on national independence which is at present perhaps the main political driving force in the area.’29 SEATO was contributing to stability and certain countries not belonging to the organisation appreciated its potential in combating communism. Russian and Chinese aid was less generous than that offered by the West but it engendered goodwill. The trend towards authoritarian regimes was disturbing to advocates of democracy: military power was expanding, as shown in Thailand, Burma and Pakistan and this could soon apply in Indonesia or Laos. But dictatorial methods could be effective in combating communism. Equally, authoritarianism could be associated with corruption, as illustrated in Thailand. The West favoured democracy but it might be wise to concentrate on the merits of an independent judiciary and non-political civil service. India firmly supported democracy yet Indians relied heavily on Nehru’s leadership. The West should be flexible and accept that ‘Reasonably clear-sighted neutralism need


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not be against our own interests.’30 Contacts with the military should be encouraged because their ‘sympathies are at the moment largely anti-communist’.31 Counter-subversion must be refined; progressive labour and education policies should be implemented; rapid population growth should be discouraged through adoption of birth control. India was extremely important in advancing reform ‘which can show itself capable of solving these problems without going communist’.32 India’s third Five Year Plan could be too ambitious. It would be in the interests of the West if India’s relations with China were cool but not bad: it was to be hoped that events in Tibet did not lead to overt hostility. The sharp divergence over China between India and the United States was deeply regrettable. Some countries had fostered closer trading relations with Japan, partly because of reparations (this applied particularly to Burma, the Philippines and Indonesia). On the whole, Japan was regarded as helpful to the West: ‘We have brought the Japanese into the Colombo Plan and found them useful in connexion with the problem of the Indian economy.’33 The West should work with Japan for three reasons: to discourage cooperation with communist states; to build Japan as a counterweight to China; and to utilise Japan’s valuable experience as ‘the only fully industrialised Asian power’.34 But care must be exercised: ‘It is necessary ... to enter a caveat here about the Japanese propensity to take half-baked political initiatives and to intrigue.’35 Japanese intervention in Indonesia could be dangerous: they might endorse Sukarno’s ideas concerning ‘Greater Indonesia’.36 Warmer relations between Japan and India should be encouraged. Singapore was vital in the short term for defence purposes. Constitutional issues in Singapore were sensitive and friction could grow. Singapore’s economy should be stimulated, since this would alleviate unemployment and higher living standards would contain communism. Indonesia gave rise to considerable anxiety and its aspirations were supported by Russia and China. The Indonesians were hostile to Western (mainly Dutch) commercial interests and they were receiving arms from the communist powers.37 The Indonesian dimension was underlined in a report from Lord Lansdowne discussing the eleventh annual meeting of the Consultative Committee held in Jogjakarta in October–November 1959. President Sukarno opened the meeting and spoke eloquently in English for one and a half hours. He castigated Western colonialism, emphasised the responsibility of the West to improve living standards and stated that Indonesia would welcome help, if strings were not attached. Lansdowne stressed Britain’s desire for good relations with former colonies, quoting

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a Nigerian minister in support. Some delegates felt that Sukarno was too outspoken and they included De Soyza, Ceylon’s finance minister. Significant decisions taken included acceptance of a British proposal that Singapore should be admitted to membership; the Plan should be extended for a further five years after 1961; the tenth anniversary celebration would occur in July 1961. The prime minister of New Zealand, Walter Nash, contributed vigorously – ‘The warmth of Mr. Nash’s personal magnetism and his evangelical idealism made an impact on his fellow delegates.’38 According to Lansdowne, the main themes emerging after ‘four days of remorseless speech making’ were that aid must not be seen as charity; countries must develop in accordance with their distinct cultures; the South Vietnamese delegation criticised the American inclination to tie aid to American exports; anxiety over instability in raw-material prices was emphasised; and delegates were keen to publicise their endeavours in the sphere of technical assistance. The conference was organised competently but there was ‘an orgy of hospitality and like President Sukarno’s speeches, all entertainment went on too long’.39 Each country provided an exhibition – ‘With the exception of the Indonesian exhibit, ours was on the same low standard as the others’ (exhibitions were prepared at short notice).40 The conference inspired local enthusiasm but Lansdowne remarked cynically ‘No doubt a travelling circus would have excited equal interest.’41 Future challenges remained essentially as identified in 1950: faster growth was essential to advance beyond subsistence economies. Agricultural production must be stimulated, irrigation and drainage improved and fertilisers used. Industrial plants were required and communications must be strengthened. Population growth was an urgent problem. The United States and Japan were major contributors and the role of the Commonwealth had declined. Inflation was a potential threat and must be curbed.42 In 1961, membership was as follows: Australia, Burma, Cambodia, Canada, Ceylon, India, Indonesia, Japan, Laos, Malaya, Nepal, New Zealand, North Borneo, Pakistan, the Philippines, Sarawak, Singapore, Thailand, the United Kingdom, the United States and South Vietnam. The Foreign Office noted that the Plan had proved ‘enduringly and surprisingly successful, largely because it developed empirically’.43 It functioned in a spirit of genuine goodwill: ‘Yet it now resembles a building which, though constituted in defiance of the rules of architecture, gives admirable service only as long as no one attempts major changes liable to overload the structure and bring about its collapse.’44 The Treasury made clear that it was not feasible to contemplate an increase in Britain’s capital aid nor could aid be switched from Commonwealth


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to foreign countries. Aid should be programmed to permit recipients to devise their own development plans as far as possible.45 The original British commitment of funds for technical assistance was £2.8 million in the six years ending in June 1957. This was increased in 1958 to £7 million for seven years, which would incorporate £900,000 unspent from the initial allocation. The commitment was again raised in 1958 by an additional £2 million to £9 million for the seven years terminating in March 1963. Despite Britain’s current economic difficulties, planning should advance on the assumption that for the three years 1963–66, annual expenditure of not less than £1,200,000 for Commonwealth countries would be required. An additional £5 million would be committed for the period 1963–66.46 One of the issues facing the delegates at the next Consultative Committee meeting in Kuala Lumpur, in November 1961, was possible expansion in membership to accommodate South Korea. Neither the Treasury nor the Foreign Office enthused at the prospect. Others might follow and the following were identified: Afghanistan, Iran, Hong Kong, Taiwan, the Persian Gulf sheikdoms, Netherlands New Guinea, Australian New Guinea, the Maldive Islands, various Pacific islands and Portuguese colonies. Most were eliminated in the British assessment except Afghanistan which ‘has already been accepted in principle and is only kept out by Pakistan’s objections’.47 Hong Kong and Iran could be accepted for political reasons; however, financial arguments pointed to exclusion. Lansdowne described deliberations at Kuala Lumpur as constructive. The question of commodity prices and repercussions for development plans was discussed at ministerial level: it was prompted by British and American announcements regarding rubber stockpile disposals. South Korea’s wish to join encountered mixed reactions, in part because of a decision taken in Seoul to send a delegate uninvited. Tunku Abdul Rahman opened the meeting and recommended expansion in world trade, stability in commodity prices, financial compensation for primary producing countries when export incomes varied significantly, further consideration should be given to the effects of stockpile disposals on developing countries and coordination in regional development plans. The Tunku welcomed moves to consolidate the Association of Southeast Asia, predecessor of Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). The British contribution was reviewed before the Consultative Committee met in Bangkok in November 1963. During 1962–63, Britain spent £34.59 million on capital aid and technical assistance, bringing the total since 1951 to £248.3 million. Additional commitments as on 30 June 1963 amounted to £157 million including the contribution to


the Indus Basin development Fund, which would be paid in 1971–72. During the year ending in June 1963, Britain spent £32.76 million on capital aid, taking the total of such expenditure since 1951 to £237.83 million. Further capital aid commitments to June 1963 amounted to £155 million. Private British investment in the Plan area in 1962 was estimated at £28 million, an increase of £3 million over the previous year. During the year ending in June 1963, British expenditure on technical assistance was £1.831 million, bringing the total since 1951 to £10.507 million; commitments as on 30 June 1963 totalled £2.07 million. Britain assisted significantly in training schemes: in June 1963, 708 Asian students received training in Britain. In the course of the year, 669 places had been added, taking the total since 1951 to 5,205. The principal subjects studied and numbers of students were – administration (1,948), industry and trade (722), medicine and health (673), food, agriculture and forestry (517), economics and finance (426), transport and communications (420), engineering (398) and technical education (377). Expenditure on training for the period extending to the end of June 1963 was £876,550, bringing the total since 1951 to £4,839,960.48 South Vietnam came to loom larger as the Johnson administration applied pressure to increase British aid. Michael Stewart, the foreign secretary, wrote to James Callaghan, the chancellor of the exchequer, in November 1965, stating that Harold Wilson had told Lyndon Johnson, when they met in December 1964, that Britain would do what it could to provide police advisers and to cooperate in the medical sphere. Stewart explained that only limited progress had been made, partly because of the problem of persuading people to work in Vietnam: he felt that greater efforts should be made in terms of personnel and money, adding that aid must remain non-military.49 Stewart proposed appointing four additional advisers for the British Advisory Mission (BRIAM), possibly policemen, although they could be in related fields of administration and pacification. From the British perspective by 1965, the Colombo Plan had fulfilled the purposes envisaged in 1950. Cooperation between developed and developing countries improved living standards, strengthened economies and contained communism. Over the years, membership grew from the original Commonwealth base to embrace 27 countries: by the end of November 2001, within Southeast Asia only Brunei did not belong.50 Britain withdrew from membership during the 1980s, as did Canada. Ironically Japan became the principal donor nation in the later 1970s and provided more than double the American contribution by the close of the 1980s.51


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Establishment of SEATO, 1954–60 The Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) could not be compared in importance to North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) but it would be erroneous to argue that it was unimportant. In its early years, SEATO was significant and it influenced developments in the direction desired by the West. Its origins may be traced back to the apprehension felt by Britain and France at the turmoil and instability in Southeast Asia in the later 1940s. Only the United States could promote an anti-communist alliance in the region: for almost a decade after 1945, American leaders evaded this responsibility because of commitments in Europe and East Asia. Dean Acheson was wary of being drawn into doomed attempts to save colonial possessions. The future belonged to successor states and America aimed to secure their active cooperation without creating a formal alliance. He told the inaugural meeting of the Australia, New Zealand, United States (ANZUS) Council, on 4 August 1952, that if Britain joined, France would demand membership and the colonial powers would be too prominent. Also, Japan and the Philippines would demand membership and this was undesirable.52 Acheson believed that Britain faced insurmountable problems with inadequate means: the British were attempting to blame others for their inability to square the circle. American alarm at the rise of Communist China, much accentuated by the war in Korea, pushed American policy towards working more closely with Britain and France. This was illustrated in the five power talks (United States, Britain, France, Australia and New Zealand), which developed in 1952–53: the Americans wished to instil resolution into the French in Indochina and encourage other participants to place confidence in American leadership. The Eisenhower administration, which assumed office in January 1953, was determined to consolidate resistance to communism and surmount disappointment in Korea where the war ended as an uneasy draw between the United Nations (UN) and the communist states. Eisenhower and Dulles were pressurised by right-wingers in the Republican Party to make tangible progress in saving the ‘Free World’. Senator William F. Knowland wrote to Dulles in November 1953, advocating creation of a new defence structure in Southeast Asia: this must avoid the deadly embrace of bankrupt colonialism.53 He urged inclusion of South Korea and Taiwan, a suggestion that did not recommend itself to the British government. The grave crisis in Indochina in 1953–54 forced the United States to welcome the concept of a new defence grouping in Southeast Asia. This gave rise to friction in Anglo-American relations, since Anthony Eden


was in Geneva, trying to prevent escalation of the war in Indochina. Despite American disapproval, concessions would have to be made to the communist states: I have always recognised that these negotiations would involve concessions to the communists, probably entailing creation of a buffer state on China’s southern border. This would be excluded from the South East Asia defence organisation I envisage. The Americans, however, appear to contemplate an organisation that would assist them to re-conquer Indo-China. Her Majesty’s Government for their part would not be prepared to participate in such a venture.54 The position was delicate owing to the necessity of not alienating states in Asia supporting the Colombo Plan. John Tahourdin minuted, on 22 May, that it was important to elicit support from India, Pakistan and Ceylon for securing effective collective defence.55 It would be difficult to persuade Burma and Indonesia to support SEATO. Tahourdin felt that it would not be too tragic if France declined to join but ‘We should, of course, rigidly oppose any suggestion for the inclusion of Formosa, South Korea or Japan.’56 Eden warned against pressing for a formal link with the Colombo Plan because the plan was ‘non-political’ and that India, Indonesia and Burma would be alienated by any suggestion of a link. Preparations for the creation of SEATO proceeded, despite sharp differences at Geneva. Eden wrote presciently that more support was needed from Asian states otherwise ‘it would simply be a white man’s pact imposed from the outside and robbed of popular support’.57 American ire at the outcome of deliberations in Geneva accentuated their inclination to act unilaterally. Sir Roger Makins, the ambassador in Washington, warned in July of ‘the prospect of a serious rift with the Americans over Asian policy ... the trouble as always with the Americans is that they want to act at once primarily for the sake of doing something and they will not long brook delay on this case’.58 The most contentious issue in exchanges preceding the Manila conference, in September 1954, focused on the American proposal to refer explicitly to the threat of communist subversion in article four of the treaty. Eden objected on the basis that inclusion would antagonise the Colombo Plan states. General Walter Bedell Smith, the under secretary of state, argued that SEATO existed to eliminate communist subversion and this should be confirmed formally. Dulles and Bedell Smith wanted Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos to become members of SEATO.


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This reopened a delicate issue, involving undertakings given by Eden to China and the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV) at Geneva. Makins told Dulles on 27 July that Eden was opposed to membership, although Eden conceded that they could be covered via commitments assumed by members of SEATO.59 Discussions in London demonstrated the growing importance of the Treasury in determining the nature of foreign and defence policies. David Serpell of the Treasury wrote to Tahourdin, on 21 August, stating that the chancellor of the exchequer, R.A. Butler, believed that open-ended commitments must be avoided.60 In terms of the size of the empire and global obligations, Britain remained a major power but the fragility of the economy meant that corners had to be cut and skilful diplomacy used to avert commitments that were interpreted as not wholly essential. This helps in explaining the rather negative image presented by Britain in SEATO meetings. The Manila conference assembled on 6 September 1954 for the signing of the pact marking the birth of SEATO. Pressure of European business prevented Eden from attending and the delegation was headed by the second Marquess of Reading, a former Liberal who had transferred to the Conservatives in 1950. The main debates at Manila centred on whether communism should be referred to directly and the desire of the host government to introduce an article about self-determination and independence. Britain alone opposed direct condemnation of communism in the treaty. Dulles agreed reluctantly to omit direct reference but emphasised that American reservations must be made clear; Reading deemed this reasonable.61 He described the most significant contribution as residing in the drafting of article four, paragraph three, which in essence said that in the event of aggression, no country in the treaty area would experience conversion into a battleground except with the consent of the country concerned – ‘This provision should surely be a reassurance to at least those of the Colombo Conference countries which are prepared to judge the treaty on its merits and not on their own emotions.’62 Reading observed that President Magsaysay was making a genuine attempt at tackling corruption in the Philippines: he was ‘a forceful, vivid and jovial personality, rather in the Peron manner’.63 The Manila pact was signed by Thailand, Pakistan, the Philippines, United States, France, Australia, New Zealand and the United Kingdom. Omission of specific reference to communism in article four was sensible but it led to other problems, principally the contingency of Indian aggression against Pakistan.64 Gradually, SEATO acquired a structure in 1954–55. According to statistics produced by the War Office, the

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strength of full-time armies in the region, including SEATO members, was as follows: Country

Approximate strength

Pakistan India Burma Thailand Philippines Indonesia South Vietnam Laos Cambodia French forces Vietminh

180,000 425,000 46,000 55,000 40,000 160,000 180,000 ⫹ 60,000 semi-military 30,000 30,000 170,000 220,000 ⫹ 100,000 semi-military65

The statistics remind us of the importance of the Indian army and of the loss of manpower available to Britain after 1947. Vague hopes were entertained that India might adhere to the Manila pact but most observers agreed that this was impossible, given Nehru’s preference for nonalignment and criticism of American policy. France was in process of withdrawing the expeditionary corps except for Laos where French forces remained into the 1960s. British officials favoured locating the headquarters of SEATO in Singapore, which was ironic in the light of professed desire to eschew neo-colonialism. The United States preferred Bangkok, partly because of the expanding American role in Thailand. Tahourdin wrote that Britain should not foster the impression that SEATO was ‘largely an instrument of American policy’.66 James Cable commented, in November 1954, that a certain complacency could be discerned on occasions in the responses of American and British officials, a tendency to feel that the production of a few leaflets and training of local security forces were sufficient. He continued Another point to be borne in mind is the importance of sound administration. In both Vietnam and Indonesia, for instance, the strongest factor making for a Communist triumph, the growing and not unfounded belief of the people that they could not possibly be worse governed under the Communists and might conceivably be better off. It is this process that we have to endeavour to arrest. It is no use whatever pouring out propaganda about religious liberty, the right of free speech and the blessings of democracy to people who have never experienced any of these things. What most of them are


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looking for is a Government that will fill their bellies, protect their persons and safeguard the little property they possess.67 Cable added that Thailand was perhaps the most suitable country in which to implement these aims: the Thais did not resent foreign advice.68 The British chiefs of staff did not want an elaborate structure for SEATO. A small permanent secretariat was required; they preferred Singapore as the administrative headquarters but the Americans insisted on Bangkok.69 The inaugural council meeting assembled in February 1955: Eden attended. The Thai foreign minister, Prince Wan, was elected chairman and the delegates then met in closed session. Dulles remarked on the absence of Japan, Taiwan and South Korea; they were vital to SEATO. Japan must be persuaded to support the West and to avert seduction by the Soviet Union. Dulles underlined the importance of Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. Ngo Dinh Diem should be supported because it was ‘now too late to think of backing another horse’.70 As regards strategy, the United States aimed to develop mobile striking power rather than to allot forces to particular areas. Military advisers should meet soon to consider an appropriate military structure. Subversion was the principal threat and it was harder to combat than conventional aggression. Richard Casey, representing Australia, endorsed the essence of Dulles’s remarks. Bonnet, representing France, denied that the Manila pact involved conflict of interest with the Geneva agreements: the council should affirm that SEATO was a defensive organisation. He added that there was no doubt that the Vietminh intended to control the whole of Vietnam.71 Mohamad Ali of Pakistan said that communism must be countered through military build-up, economic assistance and ‘moral rearmament’. Prince Wan warned of the communist threat to Thailand which could be advanced by the presence of Vietnamese refugees; the Thai government would welcome establishment of a permanent secretariat in Bangkok.72 Eden was last to speak. He commended Dulles’s proposal that an early meeting of military delegates should be held. Subversion was an insidious danger – ‘Gradual infiltration from within was a more immediate danger than direct military aggression ...’.73 Membership of SEATO should be extended and the considerable economic resources of the region utilised for the benefit of all. Eden spoke of British success in containing communism in Malaya and welcomed improved cooperation between British and Thai authorities in border areas.74 The concluding communiqué emphasised the defensive nature of SEATO and the urgency of economic progress. Council reaffirmed support for Vietnam, Cambodia


and Laos. Governments would be represented by foreign ministers or by designated alternates at future meetings. SEATO military advisers met on 24–25 February 1955 and then assembled in Singapore in July 1955. General Sir Charles Loewen, commander-in-chief, far eastern land forces, was satisfied with the outcome. It was agreed that anti-subversion was the priority and it was accepted tacitly that ‘we are not doing very well at it’.75 Loewen exchanged views with Admiral Felix Stump, the American commander in the Pacific, regarding defence of Thailand. Stump concurred ‘very privately’ that ‘you could not start atomic air attack on China ... except in conjunction with a line firmly held by soldiers in the ground against air attack’.76 Loewen suggested joint examination of how to hold the Kra isthmus in the event of trouble occurring; it was decided to proceed through discussions with Australia and New Zealand. Officials in Whitehall grumbled that more should have been achieved by SEATO in its initial phase but this was ironic in the light of the Treasury’s opposition to a common budget and reiteration that costs must be minimised. It was difficult to argue simultaneously that the central administration in Bangkok should be as small as possible yet it should be undertaking additional commitments. A Thai lawyer and politician, Pote Sarasin, was appointed secretary-general in 1955; he had served as foreign minister and as ambassador in Washington. Pote was educated in Britain; he was a skilful operator in the Thai political establishment, dominated by the army. Pote was competent, if uncharismatic: he revealed tenacity and sometimes conveyed disappointment that Britain was not engaged more deeply in SEATO. Pote encountered considerable challenges in developing the organisation and he probably accomplished as much as was feasible during his term of office.77 Towards the end of 1955, officials in London reflected on the growth of SEATO in terms that were distinctly negative. Sir Robert Scott, the commissioner-general in Southeast Asia, wrote in November 1955 that Britain was the sole member opposed to describing SEATO as ‘anticommunist’. Scott believed that Britain was correct: vociferous condemnation of communism paradoxically assisted the communists because they could play on hostility to Western imperialism and enlist sympathy in India, Indonesia and Burma. It was important not to antagonise Tunku Abdul Rahman who was ‘as far from being a fellow traveller or a communist as anyone in these parts’.78 The Tunku had good reason to fear the growth of Chinese influence. Britain should encourage the prospect of ultimate Malayan adhesion to SEATO: this required careful diplomacy and stealth. Scott acknowledged that American officials


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feared that SEATO could be dragged into the long-running dispute between India and Pakistan. One reason why Pakistan joined SEATO was to obtain military and economic assistance denied to India. Britain must be vigilant in examining Pakistan’s policy ‘But our position can surely be safeguarded otherwise than by turning SEATO into an aggressive anti-communist (i.e. anti-Chinese) alliance.’79 Two weeks later Scott wrote that it was essential to be cautious on the future of SEATO. It would be simple to secure American support by endorsing whatever they proposed and, in essence, this represented the approaches pursued by Australia, Thailand and the Philippines. Some American ideas were ‘unsound or even dangerous’: skill was required in discouraging rash initiatives while maintaining a positive American attitude towards SEATO.80 Scott reviewed the military strategy of SEATO and the role of nuclear weapons. He agreed with staff planners that only if nuclear weapons were used could the communist threat be contained successfully. Planners calculated that ten divisions were needed to hold a perimeter around Bangkok but it was unrealistic to proceed on this basis – ‘... the Planners believe that an aggressive sortie can be strangled at birth, provided nuclear weapons are used against the enemy at the moment we see what they have in mind’.81 The decision to use the bomb ‘must however rest with the Head of Government and not with Military Commanders on the spot and cannot be taken in advance’.82 The chiefs of staff received a report from Loewen on proceedings at the second meeting of SEATO military advisers: this was discussed in February 1956. The chiefs noted that significant features included inability to defend parts of the treaty area unless strong forces were available. SEATO air forces should attack chosen targets on the Chinese mainland and in North Vietnam; nuclear weapons should be used and SEATO members should ‘adopt a concept of operations employing atomic and non-atomic munitions’.83 Communist subversion was a growing threat; SEATO propaganda required strengthening. The conclusions reached by military planners hinted at the need for members to commit forces for defence of the treaty area. This was embarrassing because so far Britain had been unwilling to accept new commitments until the overall requirement was clarified: if Britain encountered pressure, it should be pointed out that all countries were in the same position and British commitment in principle could be reaffirmed. The chairman of Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) and the assistant chief of air staff (intelligence) visited Singapore separately in January–February 1956 to examine the effectiveness of British intelligence organisations in eastern Asia (they could not travel together owing to other commitments).


A report was submitted on 27 March 1956: in the main, they were satisfied with the working of the far eastern section of JIC. Intelligence on China was difficult to obtain and this should be remedied; more information was required on subversive organisations (communist and noncommunist). Developments in Singapore occasioned anxiety because of the combustible political atmosphere. The report touched on the delicate aspect of exchanging intelligence with American organisations. Some American agents could not be relied on to observe confidentiality – ‘The British authorities in Malaya and Singapore have felt unwilling to pass too much information on these matters to these various American representatives, many of whom have been guilty of wild and inaccurate reporting and indiscretions of various sorts.’84 It would be preferable to have a single American channel for conveying information. The chairman of JIC pursued the issues when visiting Singapore and it was decided that the Americans should be kept informed in general terms: the chairman observed that there was no possibility of the Americans agreeing to use one channel for intelligence.85 The activities of American agents supporting clandestine Kuomintang (KMT) operations had alarmed the Foreign Office for years: a discreet watch was maintained, especially on air activity associated with known or suspected Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) ‘front organizations’.86 The third meeting of military planners assembled in Singapore in June 1956. Major-General L.H.O. Pugh confirmed that fellow delegates doubted the depth of the British commitment to SEATO: the principal Australian delegate feared that Britain might be contemplating withdrawal from Southeast Asia, leaving Australia ‘carrying the can’.87 A permanent planning staff was required: the attempt in Whitehall to continue an evasive approach was illustrated in a brief for the British military adviser, prepared in August 1956. At this time, policy was overshadowed by the demands of the Suez crisis and this accentuated natural caution. The adviser should make clear ‘that we intend to honour our ANZAM commitments to the full but that we do not feel that this is the moment to declare our capabilities to SEATO’.88 Britain could accept the ‘threat estimate’ arrived at by SEATO planners only on the basis that it must be reviewed annually by an ad hoc intelligence committee. If necessary, a commitment comprising a minimum of one division and a maximum of two divisions could be accepted but firm promises should be avoided.89 James Cable reflected on the peculiarities of SEATO in minutes drafted in July 1956. France had come to view the government of South Vietnam ‘with rather more suspicion and hostility than even the Viet Minh’.90 In Indochina, Britain was prepared to


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accept ‘perhaps even to welcome the idea of a neutralist Cambodia and Laos, which is anathema to the Americans who probably still hanker after their original idea of including all three Indo-China states as full members of SEATO’.91 Pakistan focused largely on the alleged threat from India while Thailand revealed a regrettable tendency to meddle in the affairs of Cambodia. A frank discussion of neutralism within SEATO would serve only to confirm divisions and would stimulate ‘suspicions of British apathy cherished by the more ardent members of SEATO’.92 He pondered the different motives bringing members together in 1954: I would say that the fundamental weakness of SEATO lay in the conflicting, not to say incompatible, motives from which the member Governments originally joined the Organisation. We, for instance, joined to avoid a split with the Americans; the French to preserve the presence francaise in the Far East; the Pakistanis to annoy and secure protection against the Indians; the Thais in the hopes that their allies would be ready to fight on the eastern frontier of Thailand and the remainder from strong but confused feelings that something had to be done about South-East Asia somehow and at once. The result has been an embarrassing, ineffective and expensive Organisation which, in my view at least, is no more of a deterrent to our foes or a reassurance to our friends than would have been provided by a much simpler and cheaper unilateral declaration on the part of the Western powers.93 It was a mordant and excessively critical assessment. It is unlikely that a unilateral declaration would have accomplished much without bringing at least a few states from the region into the debate. At the beginning of 1957, Scott recommended that the foreign secretary should attend the next council meeting.94 The Southeast Asia department produced a memorandum of very different character from Cable’s reflections. SEATO connoted resistance to communism and this helped in bolstering Japan and discouraging the latter from reaching an understanding with China. The United States was committed to defence of mainland Southeast Asia and counter-subversion was promoted by SEATO. Cultural initiatives were emerging from SEATO.95 Enthusiasm was qualified, however, because the Treasury had sent two ‘threatening letters’ to the Foreign Office concerning escalating costs.96 Officials still pondered stimulating Indian interest in Cambodia and Laos while the United States would have welcomed Japanese membership.97 Japan was regarded with suspicion in Whitehall, especially when

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Kishi Nobusuke became prime minister in 1957. Arthur de la Mare handled discussions with the State Department concerning eastern Asia. He met Jeff Parsons on 23 July: Parsons applauded Kishi’s approach while de la Mare expressed criticism – ‘Was this the old “Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere” dusted off again and refurbished to make it look more attractive to the Americans?’98 Parsons replied that memories of Japanese brutality were fading and Japanese visiting Southeast Asia were chosen carefully to obviate the arrogance displayed in the past.99 Exchanges were academic because India would not join SEATO and Britain regarded Japan as potentially disruptive. During 1957–58, the emphasis switched to cultural initiatives intended to cement the relationship between Western and indigenous members. Cultural–educational developments could be valuable in combating communism. Council approved in principle a Thai proposal to establish a SEATO graduate school of engineering in Bangkok.100 The possibility of employing Robert Conquest as SEATO research officer was contemplated later in 1958: it was noted that he had served in the Foreign Office from 1949 to 1956 ‘as a sort of ideological adviser’.101 An advertisement for SEATO research fellowships stated that the object of research undertaken was to stimulate investigation, preferably leading to publication ‘of such social, economic, political, cultural, scientific and educational problems as give insight into the present needs and future development of South-East Asia and the South-West Pacific viewed against a background of SEATO objectives’.102 Research would normally be conducted in the Manila treaty area and in SEATO member countries. Fellows would undertake to write a study of the subject of their research which should be submitted no later than one year after completing the period of research. Concern was voiced in the Foreign Office earlier in 1958 that hasty introduction of fellowships would ‘attract only worst type of professor from America’.103 The British ambassador in Bangkok warmly endorsed a proposal that Britain should contribute equipment for the SEATO graduate engineering school.104 Military exercises were held in May 1958 attended, as observers, by military attaches from South Korea, Taiwan, Laos and South Vietnam; it was agreed at the Manila council that governments sponsoring exercises could invite non-member states to send representatives on their own responsibility.105 Whittington, the ambassador in Bangkok, provided an entertaining account of social events attendant to the exercises which were held in Thailand. It was the first occasion on which the young king had attended a SEATO exercise. Diplomats from each member state were present; the ambassadors from South Vietnam and Laos appeared


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at the start but departed after lunch or on the opening day. A holiday atmosphere prevailed. The American ambassador used a movie camera all day while Whittington confined himself to using binoculars. Much of the exercise was conducted out of vision but the conclusion was observed clearly. Afterwards, assembled diplomats travelled approximately 25 miles to the king’s camp where a ‘modest’ Thai curry was served, followed by fresh fruit served alfresco by ‘comely young ladies’ belonging to the Thai army service corps.106 Then the king stood in front of an imposing march past while a band played. The ninth meeting of military advisers assembled in Bangkok in September 1958 with Air Marshal the Earl of Bandon representing Britain. Subversion and infiltration were perceived as the chief threats and the Pakistani delegate complained that discussion should not be confined to communist aggression. Bandon concluded that it would be difficult to progress unless member states declared force contributions.107 Duncan Sandys, the minister of defence, represented Britain at the council meeting held in New Zealand in April 1959. Position papers indicated that more needed to be done to improve intelligence and coordinate planning. The Treasury agreed that the sum of £50,000 should be paid in support of the graduate school of engineering. Lord Lansdowne believed that caution was necessary and that Sandys should not press the Americans for information on their contribution to counter insurgency in Laos. He warned that ‘political implications seem to me to be so grave that we might have to regret any initiative we took on the subject at a SEATO Meeting’.108 Lansdowne recommended concentrating on nonmilitary aspects and encouraging cooperation with non-members of SEATO. The prime minister, Harold Macmillan, reinforced this message in a personal telegram to Sandys: ‘We should aim to make the SEATO organisation as business-like as possible without making its military or counter-subversion aspects too obtrusive. I have the greatest confidence in Sir Robert Scott’s knowledge and experience. You will find his advice at the Conference of the highest value.’109 Sandys surveyed the challenges when he spoke on 9 April 1959. He underlined the conclusions of the military advisers that the threat in the area was now essentially non-military, which reflected the success of SEATO in deterring overt aggression. He referred to deterioration in Sino-Soviet relations, which would assist SEATO. Chinese intervention in Tibet was alienating Asian opinion including those not belonging to SEATO (obviously a reference to India). Sandys regarded Cambodia as probably the weakest link and the Chinese were endeavouring to penetrate Cambodia, to infiltrate neighbouring states. In Laos, the Chinese


wanted to undermine the royal government to the point where the latter would tolerate increased communist intervention. Diplomacy should be used ‘to convince Cambodia of the nature of the communist threat to her independence and of SEATO’s friendship and honourable intentions as regards Laos’.110 Counter-subversion courses should continue to be organised by SEATO. Scott described the outcome as satisfactory: Sandys spoke effectively, Douglas Dillon, the American secretary of the treasury, was lucid but lacked vigour, the French minister was boring, the Filipino inaudible, the Thai quite good if unimpressive. Richard Casey was weary and Walter Nash ‘played the role of Mr. Nash with impish relish’.111 Scott discerned possible danger in American policy towards Laos. It made no sense, politically or militarily, for a composite SEATO force to move into Laos –‘On the other hand, we do want to keep SEATO going and if we cannot afford to be out in front of the Americans we equally cannot afford to lag behind.’ Therefore, Britain must participate in contingency planning for Laos ‘though I think we shall gradually work round getting the Thais to accept the responsibility for minor assistance to Laos in time of need’ while SEATO focused on plans to defend Thailand and South Vietnam.112 The closed session permitted frankness and this included Nash’s alarm at Japanese rearmament. Nash was more positive on the communist menace because of a Russian verbal attack and because of Chinese policy in Tibet. Scott perceived future challenges as comprising the character of military planning, persuading non-members to view SEATO favourably, handling pressure to devise an economic programme and possibly arguments for achieving closer association between SEATO, NATO and the Baghdad pact. The Foreign Office conducted a review of SEATO in its first five years. SEATO had contributed to stability in Southeast Asia despite the small number of Asian members. The fundamental responsibility for meeting the threat of communist aggression had been fulfilled to a significant extent. The direct cost of membership to Britain was approximately 16 per cent of the common budget (£50,000 out of a total SEATO budget of $US 900,000 for the financial year 1959–60, less than onethousandth of the total British military expenditure in the region).113 Selwyn Lloyd regarded SEATO as a major part of British defence policy yet he conceded the main weakness in the body – ‘the absence from its membership of most of the important countries of the area’.114 The assessment was predominantly generous and disguised certain of the doubts entertained in Whitehall. SEATO had achieved as much as could be expected in the circumstances. The Foreign Office supported an American proposal that Pote Sarasin should serve a second


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term as secretary-general. Pote has criticised Britain for ‘foot dragging’ and ‘parsimony’ but Reginald Seconde commented, in January 1960, that he was ‘active, fairly competent and an Asia of ministerial calibre’ who carried weight with the Thai government.115 Pote was confirmed for a second term at the council meeting held in Washington in June 1960.116 The situation in Laos, which will be discussed in Chapter 6, led the Foreign Office to urge adoption of an amendment to the definition of aggression used in MPO Plan 5c. Clarity was imperative and the following definition was desirable – ‘For the purposes of this Plan, Communist insurgency is defined as “armed action against the established Government of a country by organised bands or groups under conditions which do not permit such action to be identified as overt and direct external aggression, but subject to such a degree of foreign control, direction of support, as to amount to indirect external aggression” ’.117 This was accepted, although New Zealand refrained initially from supporting it. Fred Warner wrote to Arthur de la Mare that ‘SEATO contingency planning for Laos has always been unpopular here’.118 The sixth meeting of SEATO council was held in Washington between 31 May and 3 June 1960. In a briefing for the head of the British delegation, MPO Plan5 was described as ‘the most important and only realistic’ scheme.119 The British government believed that military intervention in Laos should occur only to avert collapse of the Laotian government. Individual member governments should decide whether to act; contingency planning should be accelerated. The principal political decisions had been reached and the next stage should comprise mainly ‘detailed logistic planning’. It was envisaged that SEATO forces should occupy Vientiane and Luang Prabang and secure the relevant communication centres along the line of the Mekong in south-west Laos. Land forces consisted mainly of an American brigade and the Commonwealth brigade, currently stationed in Malaya. The Foreign Office wished to ensure that ‘the circumstances of intervention would not conflict with our obligations under the Geneva Agreements’.120 Other SEATO MPO plans addressed contingencies for defending Southeast Asia against direct North Vietnamese aggression, supported by China (MPO Plan 2); defence of South Vietnam against North Vietnamese aggression (MPO Plan 3); a plan for defending Southeast Asia including Pakistan and the Philippines against aggression from North Vietnam and China (MPO Plan 4); a plan for defence of the Protocol States against aggression solely from North Vietnam (MPO Plan 6).121 The Foreign Office and the chiefs of staff regarded most of the plans as academic but this partly reflected lack of enthusiasm for committing resources. In an

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article contributed to the European Atlantic Review (winter 1958–59), the secretary-general discussed SEATO’s mission and responsibility to nonmembers. Pore Sarasin restated the purpose of SEATO and its role in preventing aggression. Members should cooperate with non-members. The latter felt that if they acted with discretion, entanglement with either side could be averted. Pote emphasised that there was no reason to be suspicious of SEATO: ‘Communist propaganda is fond of describing SEATO as an aggressive conspiracy. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is an organization for cooperative self-defence, first and last.’122 He conceded the paradox at the heart of SEATO: it was established to inspire determination to resist aggression yet only two states from Southeast Asia had joined it. SEATO was not a powerful body but neither was it as weak as has sometimes been argued. If SEATO had not existed, communist movements would have derived encouragement to increase their activities in the light of declining British involvement and erratic American decision-making. Complementing the Colombo Plan, SEATO signified positive action to improve living standards and engender stability instead of allowing a vacuum to exist, which could be exploited by communists and other dissidents. Thailand was cemented more firmly within the Western camp as a result of providing the headquarters for SEATO and providing the first secretary-general. In 1960, SEATO had not fulfilled the more sanguine aspirations voiced in 1954–55 but it had succeeded in consolidation and confounded the more pessimistic forecasts accompanying the dismal concluding stages of French rule in Indochina in 1954.

4 Democracy, Communism and Militarism in Burma, 1948–65

Burma occupied an important position strategically during the development of the Cold War in Asia. A Chinese invasion could be launched or, less dramatically, China could start interfering along the ill-defined border with the aim of causing trouble and encouraging Burma’s quarrelsome communist factions to unite. The United States became involved from 1950 in official and clandestine terms. American officials proliferated to the point where even the American ambassador in Rangoon protested: as elsewhere in Southeast Asia, the arrival of numerous Americans was not helpful, since they were often brash or naïve.1 An American firm of consultants advised on economic policy, ironically because the Burmese government was committed to socialism. ‘Unofficial’ Americans created more problems. Throughout the 1950s and into the next decade a recurring source of irritation in relations between the Western powers and Burma was the presence in northeastern Burma of Kuomintang (KMT) forces, which had retreated from Yunnan after the defeat of Chiang Kai-shek’s forces in mainland China. British intelligence services and the Foreign Office obtained abundant information on clandestine American activities in support of the KMT; a certain wry amusement was derived from making inquiries in the State Department and observing the response, ranging from denial to grudging acceptance. The American purpose was to obtain information on communist activities in south-western China and to encourage KMT raids. The role of the KMT added one further ingredient to the unsettled internal situation where rebel groups from ethnic minorities, notably the Karen, fought the Burmese army to which had to be added two discrete, rival communist rebellions and dacoits (bandits). The Burmese government, headed by U Nu, wished to establish a stable state, based on principles of democratic socialism.2 Nu was willing to contemplate 97


concessions to the minorities but he lacked charisma and could not replace Aung San. The rival communist factions wished to see socialism consolidated on an authoritarian basis but they proved so inept that only direct Chinese intervention could have brought communism to power in Rangoon. The principal threat to democracy came from the body supposedly responsible for protecting the state – the army. Rumours of impending coups circulated frequently and were associated with the ambition of the head of the army, General Ne Win. The numerous internal dissident groups, plus the potential threats from China and American support for the KMT, enhanced the importance of the army.

Independence and rebellion Britain wished to see Burma evolve into a stable democracy, based on magnanimity towards the minorities, eradication of communism and broad alignment with the West. Ernest Bevin, the foreign secretary, took some interest in developments in Burma amidst his many preoccupations. He believed that independence had occurred too hastily – ‘I was aghast when the sudden announcement of independence was made.’3 Bevin was alarmed at worsening disorder and the lack of realism displayed by Burma’s young politicians. He regarded them in much the same way that he viewed young socialist intellectuals in the British Labour party. Sir Orme Sargent, the permanent under-secretary, minuted on 2 June 1948: ‘In the absence of a strong man to take charge the natural tendency of the Burmese to internecine fighting and intrigue will I fear continue unrestrained to the ultimate benefit of the Communists who, if they are well drilled by Moscow, ought to be able to get up a Communist State before very long.’4 Paul Grey qualified this in his minute with the observation that there was no evidence that Burmese communists were cooperating with Moscow. 5 A draft cabinet paper was prepared in which the foreign secretary expressed alarm at the fertile ground for communism to flourish in and deplored the expropriation of British-owned companies. Bevin held that further consideration of the supply of arms was required.6 On 16 June 1948, Bevin met the Burmese ambassador and emphasised his anxiety. Was Burma going to move away from cooperation with Britain towards support for the Soviet Union? Bevin added that Burma had not fulfilled its responsibilities to Britain, given the assistance extended before and after independence. The ambassador read a reassuring statement from the foreign minister in which it was stated that Burma had no intention of allying with Russia; Burma proposed to develop cooperation with the

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Commonwealth, the United States and China (meaning Chiang Kaishek’s regime).7 Bevin was mollified in part by the reassurance offered by the foreign minister, U Tin Tut, when the two men met in London at the end of July 1948. Bevin counselled that even in Britain it was necessary to apply nationalisation gradually: it was not sensible to take over an enterprise until you were certain that you could run it. Tin Tut conceded that nationalisation had been implemented too rapidly because of internal considerations; Burma was grateful for British assistance and wished to receive additional aid. Bevin welcomed the Burmese intention to oppose communism – ‘I was glad to hear that his Government were planning to go all out against the communists. Their one and only policy everywhere, if they could not get their way by political means, was to start civil war.’8 However, unrest worsened appreciably in the latter part of 1948 and it appeared that Burma might descend into chaos. Discontent among the Karen constituted the biggest single challenge to the government in Rangoon. The commander of the army, General Smith Dun, was a Karen and this helped to prevent the Karen rebellion from becoming even more serious. Smith Dun remained loyal to Nu’s government and sought to persuade fellow Karen to follow his example. British officials hoped for the best but they concluded that while Smith Dun was well intentioned, he lacked the ability to handle the demanding situation. The head of the British Services Mission (BSM), Lt General Geoffrey Bourne, reported in November 1948 that Smith Dun had been a real disappointment. While courageous and tenacious, he lacked intellect and he tended to vacillate. Furthermore, his authority had been undermined by his deputy, General Ne Win, who was concentrating on building his own power base through securing the appointment of officers loyal to him. Ne Win disliked the BSM and would not work with it. Lawlessness was widespread and Karen rebels controlled large areas east of Sittang.9 Professor B.R. Pearn of the Foreign Office Research Department commented that he had met Smith Dun during and after the Pacific War and he was a typical Karen, brave, agreeable but not particularly intelligent – ‘It is possible to imagine Smith Dun trying to play the part of Cromwell: it is scarcely possible to conceive of his succeeding in that role.’10 An associated problem was that some serving and former British army officers sympathised with the Karen insurrection and some were actively involved in helping the Karen. This went back to the Pacific War when British officers in Force 136 worked with the Karen to defeat the Japanese. Aung San, Ne Win and U Nu supported Japan until switching sides in 1944–45. Britain was committed


at least morally to support for Karen demands for autonomy but the speed of attainment of independence precluded fulfilment of the British obligation. One former officer, Captain David Vivian, supplied arms to U Saw and thus facilitated the assassination of Aung San and certain colleagues in July 1947. Peter Murray minuted that a number of British officers felt strongly over massacres of British, Indian and Karen forces during the war but few were as stupid as Vivian. Murray felt that a confession made by Vivian was probably true: ‘It will be no great loss if he is executed, as, on the strength of this confession, he richly deserves to be.’11 Vivian was sentenced to a total of ten years imprisonment with a fine of 5000 rupees or an additional 18 months in gaol.12 Subsequently, he escaped from prison and was killed fighting for the Karen. One of the key advocates of the Karen cause was Frank Owen, editor of the Daily Mail, wartime editor of the Southeast Asia Command (SEAC) newspaper and a former Liberal MP (also a future Liberal parliamentary candidate and a biographer of David Lloyd George). In July 1948, Owen contacted Esler Dening and arranged to meet him in the Carlton Bar in London. Dening had already arranged to meet someone else in the same venue and could not decline the invitation. Owen then introduced Dening to Colonel John Tulloch who had served in Force 136: Tulloch spoke fervently of his enthusiasm for the Karen rebellion and said that the aim was to overthrow the Nu government and install a regime headed by Smith Dun. Dening told Tulloch and Owen that the British government was fully committed to supporting the Nu administration and that it could not endorse the Karen rebellion. Tulloch showed no surprise and said he had already approached the American government; Dening responded that the State Department had informed the Foreign Office.13 Soon afterwards, General Bourne visited Smith Dun at the latter’s home where a number of Karen leaders had assembled. Bourne believed that the Karen leaders were preparing for the contingency of a communist regime displacing the Nu government: if this occurred, the Karen would proceed to create a separate Karen state comprising Tenasserim, part of Toungoo and including Karenni Hills and the delta, incorporating Henzada and Insein. The Karen leaders were in an excitable mood but were restrained by Smith Dun who trusted Nu. Bourne added that the Karen hoped to secure outside assistance, especially from former officers in Force 136.14 The Foreign Office decided to inform the Burmese government to counter suspicions in Rangoon regarding British designs. A close watch was kept on Tulloch’s activities; Peter Murray recommended that Frank Owen should be warned ‘at a high level’ over the dangerous game he


was playing.15 However, the Foreign Office, too, was waiting to see whether the Burmese government could survive or whether it might be overwhelmed by the Karen and communist rebellions. Significantly, Paul Grey minuted on 16 September 1948: ‘Our attitude to the rebellion would of course be different if a Communist Govt were set up in Rangoon.’16 In other words, Britain could support a separatist Karen state if communism triumphed in Rangoon. Equally, while the Nu government survived, Britain would continue to support it. Frank Owen persisted in his campaign to advance the Karen cause. The Daily Mail correspondent in Burma, Alexander Campbell, had served with Force 136 and he was prominent in pro-Karen intrigue. Campbell was arrested by the Burmese police and incriminating documents were discovered.17 The proprietor of the Daily Mail, Lord Rothermere, was approached and he personally perused cables to and from Campbell. Rothermere recognised the delicacy of the situation but denied that his newspaper was supporting Tulloch.18 The ambassador in Rangoon, Richard Bowker, met U Nu on 19 October 1948, and Nu showed him some of the documentation seized when Campbell was arrested. This confirmed that Campbell and Tulloch were involved deeply in supporting the Karen rebellion. Nu said that he was suspicious of all former Force 136 officers: Was Tulloch actually a British secret agent? Nu added that some British businessmen were helping the Karen. Nu was also suspicious of the BSM: he wished to ascertain if any officers currently belonging to BSM had served with Force 136 in which case he would demand their withdrawal. Nu said that he was personally sympathetic to Britain and he had encouraged Aung San to work with Britain: however, his ministers were ‘anti-British’.19 British intelligence kept a close eye on the activities of those urging the Karen cause. Dick White of MI5 wrote to William Hayter that Maung Gyi ‘now appears to be a guiding, but much shielded, light behind the activities of the small group of persons in this country who are keen to take an active part in supporting the Karen cause’.20 MI5 compiled a list of British nationals constituting a pro-Karen group entitled the ‘Friends of the Burma Hill People’. The names listed were: Lt Colonel John Cromarty Tulloch, Lt General Sir Thomas Hutton, Sir Reginald DormanSmith (a former governor of Burma and a former Conservative cabinet minister), Major-General Sir Colin Gubbins (head of Special Operations Executive (SOE) during the Second World War), Lt Colonel Bernard Ferguson (a former Chindit and a future Conservative MP), Raymond Blackburn (a Labour MP) and Noel Stevenson.21 Tulloch was thought to be under financial pressure and to be escaping creditors. The Reverend

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J.W. Baldwin, a missionary working for the American Baptist Union, was also heavily involved in promoting Karen interests. MI5 had not discovered ‘patently subversive activity’ but clearly there was potential to cause embarrassment for the British government.22 The Daily Worker published allegations concerning a conspiracy and referred to the involvement of a ‘high Foreign Office official’ (obviously Dening). Predictably, the communist organ commented on the failure of the Fabian colonial concepts applied by the Attlee government and castigated the Karen rebellion as part of the ‘remains of feudalism’. British capitalism and imperialism were trying to undermine the Burmese government to advance sordid British designs.23 It is accurate to state that the British government was committed to supporting the administration in Rangoon, provided it could survive; if it collapsed, policy could revert to supporting the Karen, as had been the case for most of the British occupation of Burma. The various rebellions nearly overwhelmed Nu’s government but it survived, partly because the Karen rebels did not advance to take Rangoon at the crucial stage when they may have succeeded and partly because Smith Dun supported Nu. Considerable sympathy for the Karen cause existed in the Conservative party and some support could be discerned in the Labour and Liberal parties. Later, in May 1950, Winston Churchill indicated that he intended to oppose provision of aid for Burma and he intended to raise the plight of the Karen in the House of Commons. Anthony Eden and R.A. Butler were said to be inclined to support the Attlee government over aid for Burma.24 Churchill was dissuaded by his colleagues from pursuing matters too far. Attlee showed some embarrassment over policy towards the Karen, accentuated in all likelihood by his close involvement in negotiations in 1947. The task of the BSM was to advise the Burmese army and when Rangoon was under direct threat in 1948–49, the question arose as to how far British officers should go in assisting suppression of the rebellion. Attlee minuted to Bevin in February 1949: ‘I think we should take a firm line that we will not afford assistance to the Burmese Government in order to help them suppress the Karens. If they come to an agreement with the Karens and any other racial minority groups, we should be prepared to help them to deal with the Communists and dacoits’.25 It was not surprising that some Burmese army officers were suspicious of British motives: Ne Win alleged later that British officers leaked information on the campaign against the Karen and that this weakened Burmese strategy.26

The British Services Mission The Burmese government decided, in 1947–48, that it required British military guidance and this was channelled through the BSM. The


latter was responsible for assisting in the training of the army and the purchase of arms and ammunition. The size of the BSM was larger than might have been expected. According to statistics made available in the House of Commons in July 1950, the strength of the BSM in June 1948 totalled 208, divided into 117 officers, 67 NCOs and 14 other ranks. By May 1950, the total had fallen to 121, comprising 49 officers, 46 NCOs and 16 other ranks.27 Relations between the Burmese army and the BSM were based on mutual suspicion, which was sometimes modified but never dispelled. This was hardly surprising, given that Britain had ruled Burma until recently and many in the army had fought against Britain until the closing stages of the Pacific War. In reality, both sides contributed to the eventual failure of the BSM. On the British side, insufficient thought was given to the size of the BSM and to personnel within it. A smaller BSM, manned by officers with greater political awareness and appropriate diplomatic skills, would have served Britain’s purposes better. On the Burmese side, the presence in senior posts of men committed to genuine cooperation was required; it was unfortunate that Ne Win took command after Smith Dun’s departure, since Ne Win did not want the BSM to succeed. Ne Win conveyed criticism when he visited London in July 1949. He told the minister of defence, A.V. Alexander, that firm suspicions were entertained regarding the actions and motives of some members of the BSM. Ne Win stated that Major-General Temple, now head of BSM, had admitted that certain British officers had acted ‘foolishly’.28 He complained that Temple tended to pose difficult questions and these could be regarded as unfriendly. Alexander reiterated that the Labour government wished to resolve problems and wanted good relations with Burma. Ne Win remarked that some British officers did not seem willing to fulfil the policy of the Labour government, perhaps because they supported the Conservative party. 29 Matters did not improve. The Foreign Office wanted the BSM to remain and to function better in order to achieve political, rather than military, objectives. The chiefs of staff concluded, correctly, that there was little chance of BSM operating effectively because of Ne Win’s attitude. Richard Bowker, the ambassador, reported in March 1950 that Ne Win would not consult BSM and that his relations with Temple were cool. On the other hand, the air and navy sections of BSM worked satisfactorily but the army was far more significant. Bowker recommended that Malcolm MacDonald, peripatetic British troubleshooter, should discuss the position frankly, when he visited Rangoon. Nu told MacDonald that he desired a positive relationship between the Burmese government and BSM but relations were soured by the activities of Vivian, Campbell, Tulloch and Baldwin. The British authorities had not acted swiftly in

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curbing the intrigues of Tulloch and Baldwin. MacDonald replied that the government had acted to secure the ejection of Tulloch from India and it had stopped Baldwin from visiting Thailand. The activities of these individuals were deplorable but this did not justify assailing the BSM.30 MacDonald met Ne Win and told him that any officers regarded as undesirable could be transferred without detriment to their careers.31 In private, Nu showed more understanding for the British position. He wrote to the secretary of state for war, Shinwell, commenting on a discussion with General Temple: the examples of lack of cooperation given by Temple were most regrettable and all he could do was to urge patience.32 Nu was shrewd and distrusted Ne Win; however, he felt it would be too difficult to remove Ne Win and that negativism must be surmounted by diplomatic means. A final attempt to improve the functioning of BSM occurred in 1951. A consensus emerged in Whitehall and Rangoon that the common cause could best be fulfilled through appointing a middle-rank Royal Air Force (RAF) officer to succeed Temple who was due to retire. Group-Captain Manning, the air adviser in Burma, met S.J.L. Olver in the Foreign Office at the end of August 1951 and said that a fresh approach was required. The RAF, being a younger service, was less bound by tradition than the army and RAF officers did not reveal the old imperialist attitudes, often found in army officers. Olver observed that while guarded in his remarks, Manning ‘conveyed the impression that General Temple and indeed the Army element as a whole, were somewhat formal and unbending in their relations with the Burmese’. 33 Temple himself recommended that the command and administration of BSM should be assumed by the RAF with effect from April 1952. The most suitable rank of the new commander would be Air Commodore: air vice-marshals or major-generals were too senior and experienced difficulty in establishing close relations with Burmese. 34 Temple reflected on the two and a half years he had spent as the head of BSM. Ne Win resented the presence of British forces and disliked receiving advice. He could appear friendly when an important British visitor descended on Rangoon – presumably a reference to Malcolm MacDonald – but Ne Win never genuinely changed position. The British ambassador, now Richard Speaight, summarised the character of Ne Win accurately in a memorandum: General Ne Win is an ambitious, unstable and unscrupulous adventurer, out for himself and with little sense of true background or competence and hardly any military experience beyond some


guerrilla [sic] fighting; and he is intolerant of too professional an outlook in others. He has no strong cultural or intellectual interests, likes women and gambling and despises all forms of religion, including Buddhism. At the same time he has great personal charm when he cares to exercise it, and will go to considerable lengths to please those whom he likes. He lives very much from day to day and is easily influenced by men of stronger character, if he finds them congenial.35 This was a more reliable assessment than those coming from Malcolm MacDonald over the next decade an a half. Air Commodore E.L.S. Ward succeeded Temple. The atmosphere seemed to improve and relations between Burmese officers and RAF officers appeared to be cordial. But Ne Win’s attitude did not change. At the beginning of January 1954, the Burmese government announced that it did not intend to extend the military agreement with Britain. Ward met Ne Win on 5 January and the general stated that he was not satisfied with the army side of the BSM. He declined to be specific other than mentioning dissatisfaction with one colonel. Ward understood that Ne Win resented paying high rates of pay and allowances to British officers and other ranks. Ne Win expressed appreciation for past help but added that Burma would now deal with Britain as one sovereign power to another.36 The ambassador, Paul Gore-Booth, reflected on the unhappy history of BSM in a letter to Denis Allen. British army representatives were unable to establish warm relations with Burmese officers from the start; this was exacerbated by recollections of wartime atrocities. ‘RAF types’ were better mixers and enjoyed warmer relations with Burmese colleagues; the Burmese were happy with the contribution of the Royal Navy, limited as it was.37 Gore-Booth recommended that Whitehall should process a few arms contracts rapidly. This referred to Burmese complaints of repeated delays in fulfilling orders for arms and ammunition. In 1948–49, doubts were voiced concerning the wisdom of supplying arms and ammunition, which could be used against the Karen: this is illustrated in observations made by Attlee and Bevin cited earlier. Subsequently, delays were attributable to growing demands arising from rearmament and the impact of the Korean War. In addition, the Ministry of Supply was inefficient in handling some orders. The British military attaché, Colonel Oliver Berger, met Colonel Aung Gyi and U Thi Han of the Burma War Office on 12 October 1955: Berger apologised for errors and incompetence in processing by the Ministry of Supply and failure to fulfil orders promptly.38 Problems persisted and

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D.F. Duncan minuted in exasperation, in November 1957, that he could not comprehend why more had not been done to offer attractive terms to Burma for arms purchases. He recommended that representations be made at a high level in the Foreign Office to the Ministry of Supply.39 A week later the Foreign Office notified the embassy in Rangoon that the Ministry of Supply had agreed to accept orders on the basis of 30 per cent cash on ordering, subject to the provision that expenditure incurred in meeting the order was covered in advance: each case would be examined on its merits, depending on length of delivery and whether supply was from stock or from new or current production.40 The British chiefs of staff wearied of arguments over the functioning of the BSM: the latter was not significant in the context of global priorities. The Ministry of Defence noted, in August 1953, that there was little merit in military terms in retaining BSM: whatever advice was tendered by British officers, Burma could do little to halt a Chinese invasion. However, the Foreign Office and senior British officials based in Singapore wished to keep BSM, since its presence offered some prospect of influencing the Burmese government. Economic factors must also be kept in mind. Burma held a large sterling balance and it was preferable for this to be spent in Britain.41 A brief for a British trade delegation, prepared by Miss M.M. Mocatta of the Board of Trade in February 1954, stated that British exports to Burma expanded from £7.1 million in 1949 to £19.9 million in 1953. The principal export groups were vehicles, machinery, cotton piece goods, metal manufactures and electrical goods. Since independence Britain had maintained its position and ranked second only to India as a source of supplies. Japan was assuming importance as a source of supply for manufactures and as a purchaser of foodstuffs and raw materials. Consumer goods comprised at least three-quarters of Burma’s total imports, the most significant item being textile manufactures. Britain’s imports from Burma increased from £3.2 million in 1949 to £8 million in 1953. The principal commodities were animal-feeding stuffs, rice, timber, rubber and tungsten ore. Burma’s best markets for exports, in order of importance, were India, Ceylon, Japan, Britain, Indonesia and Malaya; that is, mostly countries to which rice was sold. Before the Pacific War, Burma was the world’s greatest exporter of rice and exports still accounted for approximately one-third of their prewar level by quantity, but Burma’s overall foreign trade revealed an additional expansion in 1952 and this trend continued until 1953.42 Gore-Booth reported that competition from German and Japanese firms was growing. Communist states were negotiating trade agreements with Burma and this was a further reason for


displaying economic interest in Burma.43 However, past expropriation of British enterprises did not render Burma attractive for investment. Some British businessmen confirmed the image of expatriates living in the past and treated Burmese as inferiors. It is shocking to read that the British swimming club in Rangoon refused to admit Burmese as members as late as 1955 and changed its rules only under strong pressure from progressive businessmen, endorsed by the British embassy.44 The Foreign Office pondered cultural aspects in April 1955. Professor Pearn, who had taught in Rangoon University, wrote that ‘It is extraordinarily difficult to find means of impressing on the peoples of Asia the superiority of Western ways of life over Communist ways. So much in our outlook is still entirely alien to Asians. It would, for example, be idle to send the Sadler’s Wells Opera Company to Burma, where Chinese opera goes down well.’45 If money could be made available for cultural activities, it might be wise to spend more on the provision of teachers for Rangoon University and for schools; in addition, resource could be put into enhancing the work of the British Council. J.A. Grant of the Cultural Relations department of the Foreign Office wrote dismissively of British football teams: he had witnessed games in Czechoslovakia and Turkey in which the British visitors had been defeated comprehensively – ‘Football may be all right but British footballers are among the worst possible ambassadors.’46 At least Grant did not deplore football violence! He was not impressed with the standards at Rangoon University.47 It might be better to invest in schools. Burma was assigned priority in British Council expenditure: an extra £3,500 was allocated in 1955. Grant noted that in 1951–52 the total of overseas students in Britain was 7,622 of which only 47 came from Burma. The danger was that foreign students could be subverted by ‘undesirable influences’ (presumably denoting communist approaches).

The KMT and disaffection in the Shan State Shortly after Burma became an independent republic it became embroiled, through no fault of its own other than having a common border, in the concluding stages of the Chinese civil war. Defeated KMT troops moved across the border from Yunnan into north-eastern Burma and played a tempestuous part in the international politics of the region well into the 1960s. As fate would have it, KMT forces advanced into one of the most volatile and strategically significant areas of Burma, the Shan state where antagonism towards the government in Rangoon was growing. The central government was trying to consolidate its tenuous


control and the KMT forces constituted yet another combustible element, which carried the potential, not only to disrupt Burma internally but also to involve conflict with the People’s Republic of China (PRC). Involved in this complex issue were the governments of Burma, the Republic of China (Taiwan), the PRC, the United States, Britain, France, Thailand and Laos. Some of the KMT forces crossed adjacent borders into Thailand and Laos, although most were in Burma. At the beginning of 1950 reports of Chinese communist troops having crossed the border into Kengtung, one of the Shan states, reached Rangoon and London: they were pursuing remnants of the 93rd KMT division. Their commander met the sawbwa (chieftain or prince) of Kengtung who handled the situation diplomatically by notifying the authorities in Rangoon. It was decided that the KMT troops should be detained in an internment camp. The sawbwa provided food and drink and enlisted the visitors temporarily as a kind of ‘home guard’. The number of KMT men was unclear but it was thought to be between 2,000 and 3,000.48 The communist forces had retired to their side of the border. The problem for the Burmese government was that it did not possess the resources to detain the KMT remnants when it was in the midst of coping with widespread disorder throughout Burma. The ambassador in Bangkok, Sir Geoffrey Thompson, submitted to London a report compiled by the consul in Chiengmai (north-western Thailand) in which the consul described the turbulence in Kengtung: two members of the American embassy in Bangkok had visited Kengtung recently but the Burmese government was reluctant to permit foreigners to visit the sensitive border area.49 It seemed possible that the KMT incursion could be resolved diplomatically but this was not the case.50 The reason was that it suited Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek and at least some within the US intelligence community to keep KMT troops in Kengtung. For Chiang it meant that his forces remained close to China where they could launch raids into Yunnan: this maintained the faint possibility that Chiang might redeem his pledge to return to mainland China. From the American viewpoint, it was valuable to receive intelligence on developments in China and this applied more strongly after the forces of the PRC entered the Korean War in October–November 1950. The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and front organisations associated with it assisted the KMT by forwarding supplies, arms and men from Taiwan to Kengtung via Bangkok or through direct flights from Taiwan to Kengtung. The Foreign Office and British intelligence services worked to obtain as much information as possible as part of the process of watching the PRC and the United States. Information came


from diverse sources: British pilots and merchant marine officers, businessmen, missionaries, Shan and Karen officials or agents plus consular officials. The outbreak of the Korean War, on 25 June 1950, accentuated tension. Bowker, the ambassador in Rangoon, reported at the end of June that the Burmese foreign minister was perturbed at events in Kengtung. The Burmese authorities were endeavouring to persuade KMT troops to lay down arms but the response from the latter was bellicose. The KMT commander had visited Bangkok recently and given a press interview in which he stated that his men did not wish to go to Taiwan and would remain in Kengtung ‘to protect the Chinese there’. The foreign minister feared that Chinese communist forces could again cross the border. The ambassador understood that the existing Burmese forces in the vicinity (Gurkhas, military police and Shan state forces) were being reinforced by a Kachin battalion.51 Robert Scott spoke to a member of the American embassy in London in July 1950 and pointed out that the situation in Kengtung should not be regarded as analogous to the fighting in Korea, Malaya and Indochina because Burma had been an independent state since January 1948 and the communists could not use nationalism as a cloak for ulterior designs.52 Reports of additional KMT troops moving into Burma reached London in August 1950.53 The Burmese government threatened to raise the matter in the UN unless it was resolved quickly. The State Department indicated that a negotiated solution was desirable. Dramatic developments in Korea between September and December 1950 focused international attention as General Douglas MacArthur implemented the landing at Inchon and launched his audacious and ultimately disastrous attempt to end the Korean War through liquidating the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea). Communist China intervened decisively in Korea in October and November 1950 and the danger of a third world war loomed. It was a delicate situation for the Attlee government because of the contrasting policies followed by Britain and the United States concerning recognition of the PRC. Britain recognised Mao Tse-tung’s government in January 1950, but the United States still recognised Chiang Kai-shek’s regime in Taiwan. President Truman was weary of Chiang whose incompetence had done much to undermine the standing of Truman’s administration. Vehement anti-communism within the United States rendered it impossible for Truman to amend his undertaking to prevent a communist invasion of Taiwan. Instead, circumstances pushed the Truman administration towards propping up Chiang’s regime, at least until the next administration assumed office in January 1953.54 As Truman contemplated possible use of the

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atomic weapon in Korea and as the confrontation between Truman and MacArthur came to a head in April 1951, reports reached London of increasing activity by the KMT forces in Kengtung. A new airstrip was under construction at Monghsat, about eighty miles south-west of Kengtung and it was reported that ‘there are constant rumours that they are receiving assistance from the Siamese and the Americans’.55 At the beginning of May 1951, at a time of great ferment following Truman’s dismissal of MacArthur, the embassy in Rangoon reported that KMT forces east of the Salween had almost certainly received supplies via Thailand and it looked as though they were preparing to move across the border into Yunnan; communist forces in Yunnan were being strengthened.56 A month later, the embassy stated that the KMT troops had been reinforced and were obtaining arms via Thailand. It seemed clear that they were preparing to attack Yunnan. The Burmese government was alarmed and contemplated appealing to the UN Security Council; it agreed to postpone action pending American attempts to achieve a solution but the position was tense.57 The Foreign Office and MI6 accumulated considerable information on developments relating to KMT activity between March and June 1951. Flights were made regularly by Civil Air Transport (CAT) aeroplanes, a front organisation run by General Claire Lee Chennault, a fanatical supporter of Chiang Kai-shek. The timing of supplies was apparently coordinated from Tokyo (MacArthur’s headquarters were in Tokyo).58 Arms, ammunition and medical supplies were despatched from Japan to Thailand in CAT planes: they were then transported to KMT guerrillas operating in south-west China. The Foreign Office made representations to the State Department in May 1951 and received bland assurances that the American ambassador in Taiwan had urged withdrawal of KMT troops from the Chinese border.59 Sir Oliver Franks, the ambassador in Washington, commented: ‘My own feeling is that the State Department have been aware for some time of the possibility of clandestine United States complicity and are taking all possible steps to rectify the position.’60 Franks counselled against pressing matters further at this juncture: if the American press heard of it, Britain would be castigated for trying to block ‘a group of stout fighters against Communism’.61 It was indeed a delicate time in Washington as the joint Senate hearings into the reasons for the dismissal of MacArthur were beginning. The Foreign Office decided to take time compiling a full dossier, which could be presented to the State Department. Intelligence and information conveyed by the Burmese government fully confirmed substantial American involvement in helping the KMT in Kengtung.


The purpose appeared to be to assist KMT attacks in Yunnan.62 Anxiety mounted in London and the Foreign Office decided, on 26 July 1951, that renewed representations in Washington were imperative. The Burmese government was planning an offensive against the KMT forces in Kengtung. If the Korean armistice talks succeeded, then China could deploy troops against the KMT on the Yunnan border and the dispute could escalate. The Foreign Office believed that the State Department had been aware of developments: encouraging KMT activity would be consistent with current American policy towards China. Strenuous representations must be made, since the State Department ignored moderate approaches. Britain wanted to prevent a Burmese appeal to the UN and giving China justification for invading Burma. Interestingly, the Foreign Office then added that Britain must ‘achieve real cooperation between the United States and the United Kingdom Intelligence Agencies in South-East Asia and the Far East. In the long term this is probably the most important [objective]’.63 Arthur de la Mare, the minister in the Washington embassy, met Livingston Merchant on 31 July 1951; Merchant was the acting head of the bureau of far-eastern affairs. He denied all knowledge of American cooperation with General Li Mi’s KMT forces in Kengtung. Merchant said that the KMT government was not controlling KMT activity in Kengtung. De la Mare stated that Britain wished to establish satisfactory liaison with the CIA and Merchant responded that this could be useful.64 The Foreign Office was astonished at Merchant’s bland remarks and decided that vigorous representations would be made, supported by suitable evidence.65 Relevant information was sent to Washington on 4 August. British authorities possessed abundant confirmation of American involvement with the KMT in Burma. American arms and equipment were sent from Bangkok to Chiengmai by rail and transported by lorry to Muangfang on the Thailand-Burma border, thence being taken by mule to Monghsat. CAT planes were used plus a CIA front company, the Sea Supply Company, based in Bangkok. Two American army officers plus four or more Thai signallers were present with Li Mi’s forces in Kengtung; one American, Major Stewart, was a former journalist who had worked in China in 1942. KMT forces led by Li Mi had undertaken military operations in Yunnan with initial success. Approximately, 3,000 KMT troops were based in Kengtung and they were augmented by the adhesion of deserters from Chinese communist forces. It seemed obvious, despite denials, that the KMT forces intended to stay in Kengtung rather than move to Taiwan.66 After the latest British approach, the State Department conceded that Americans might

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be involved in Kengtung including Chennault’s operatives using CAT planes. American intelligence contended that the KMT troops totalled around 2,000, not 3,000. The foreign secretary, Herbert Morrison, was about to visit the United States for the signing of the San Francisco peace treaty with Japan and Morrison was considering raising the subject with Dean Acheson.67 Rather entertainingly, Franks reported at about this time that Dean Rusk, assistant secretary of state for far- eastern affairs, had sent a personal telegram to Rangoon, for transmission to the Burmese government, denying, after thorough investigation that there was, or in future would be, any official or unofficial connection between the US government and KMT forces in Burma! Rusk added that the Truman administration hoped that anti-communist groups within China would meet with success.68 At the end of August, the ambassador in Rangoon submitted intelligence obtained from a reliable eyewitness who was with the KMT forces in Wa State, on the border of China. The source indicated that KMT strength totalled between 11,000 and 12,000 men: the core of experienced troops amounted to approximately 1,500 and the rest were rabble. Around one-quarter were armed with American weapons. The principal KMT base was at Mongyang in Kengtung State; 3,000 troops were stationed on the Kengtung-Yunnan border and 8,000 were in Wa State. Li Mi’s forces had advanced into Yunnan in June 1951: after initial success, they were expelled quite easily by communist forces. In the main the KMT were indifferent fighters; KMT troops in Wa State lacked food and morale was poor. Supplies were dropped by air once or twice a week; it was believed that aircraft came from Thailand. Two Americans were attached to Li Mi’s forces and they maintained radio contact. Li Mi had abandoned plans for further raids into Yunnan for the time being and had flown to Taiwan via Thailand for consultations. The American military attaché told a member of the British embassy that there were approximately 4,000 KMT troops in Kengtung and around 10,000 in the region as a whole. This confirmed some of the evidence provided by British intelligence. Of course, it was very different to information conveyed by the State Department to the British ambassador.69 The Foreign Office inquired into the activities of the Sea Supply Company based in Bangkok. It was headed by Willis H. Bird who had served in the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) in Southeast Asia: the company was the largest operator in arms traffic in Bangkok. The Sea Supply Company handled supplies for the KMT and the Thai police and arranged training for the latter. Bird was in frequent contact with General Phao, directorgeneral of Thai police. Li Mi was currently in Bangkok and was engaged


TIBET

NAGA HILLS

ASSAM

KACHIN Myitkyina

INDIA

CHINA

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RIVER

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Chiengmai

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Sandoway

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SOUTHERN SHAN STATES

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Arakan Hill Tracts Akyab

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NORTHERN Mogok Lashio SHAN Shwebo Moymyo Mandalay STATES Amarapura Avao Kyaukse

HILLS

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CHINDWIN

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Imphal

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Tavoy

Bangkok

RI M

50 100

200

300

AS CO

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Scale of Miles

Map 1 Burma

Mergui

GULF OF SIAM

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in exchanges with Bird and the Thai police. It appeared that Li Mi was pressing for money to finance guerrilla action and that he wished to increase the fighting power of troops under his control.70 The Foreign Office recognised that the chances of halting American support for the KMT were slim but at least their representations made clear that Britain was aware of what was happening and this imposed some constraints on rash American action. It did not allay the justified suspicion of the Burmese government; American intervention pushed Ne Win and his supporters into intransigence. In January 1952, the British consul in Maymyo visited the Shan region and traversed the often arduous terrain. Unrest was endemic with Karen rebels, White Flag and Red Flag communists, the KMT and dacoits all operating plus periodic excursions by the Burmese army. The consul reported that KMT forces had been strengthened recently with the arrival of approximately 600 trained-troops from Taiwan: another 300 were expected shortly. These would form the backbone of a projected offensive to be launched by the KMT in the next few months. The airstrip at Monghsat was being extended but was not yet in use. Supplies were dropped by air including Burmese currency. The situation was one of stalemate, since the Burmese army was too weak to take on the KMT.71 French officials expressed concern at the number of American planes flying over northern Indochina en route to Burma. Anthony Eden, the foreign secretary, dined with the French ambassador on 21 January 1952 and he was informed of French anxiety. France suspected that arms and material were being transported across Indochina to Kengtung.72 The Burmese ambassador visited Eden on 22 January to reiterate his concern.73 Sir Gladwyn Jebb, the ambassador in Paris, told Robert Scott that it would be salutary if Burma raised the KMT issue in the UN Security Council. It would then be possible to propose that an investigative body be sent to Burma. Jebb had no doubt that a commission comprising ‘moderately independent and objective people’ would ‘shortly discover the most surprising things’.74 Eden was receptive to the suggestion, feeling that pressure was needed in Washington. Accordingly he suggested, in a speech during a foreign affairs debate, on 5 February 1952, that a small UN commission could be established. Scott wrote to Jebb that the Foreign Office would await reactions to ‘tossing this stone into the pond’. The Americans did not welcome the proposal. Practical difficulties would be significant in visiting Kengtung because communications were bad and it would be easy for troops to conceal themselves. Scott hoped that the threat of establishing a commission would ‘frighten those concerned, including the Siamese – into


putting an end to the present state of affairs’.75 The Foreign Office summarised evidence relating to CAT flights and numbers of KMT troops in Kengtung: the American government should convince Chiang Kaishek to stop ‘provocative operations’. Eden commented that it was ‘an admirable draft’.76 Scott added the cautionary observation that Britain should not become involved in a dispute between the State Department and the Pentagon.77 Hopes that progress would be made in negotiations were not borne out. The United States viewed the problem in the context of the wider picture in Asia. The KMT presence was useful for intelligence purposes and for applying pressure on the PRC via Yunnan. The victory of General Eisenhower in the presidential election held in November 1952 brought the Republicans control of the White House and both houses of Congress. Eisenhower and his secretary of state, John Foster Dulles, were moderates but the right wing of the party was in the ascendancy in the Senate with Robert A. Taft Sr and then William F. Knowland leading the Republicans. Knowland was a fervent advocate of supporting Chiang Kai-shek and was described by his critics as ‘the Senator for Formosa’. The Burmese government raised the issue in the UN General Assembly and a resolution was carried, on 23 April 1953, recommending evacuation of KMT forces from Burma. Provisional agreement for KMT withdrawal was reached on 23 June but was delayed by the intransigence of local personnel.78 The UN approved resolutions periodically in the years ahead, applying further pressure and noting limited progress made on evacuation. Meanwhile, British intelligence reported from Singapore that a source had indicated that the most recent airdrop to the KMT forces, in Monghsat, had occurred on 8 July 1953. A sharp-eyed RAF officer, returning from attending a conference, saw two Douglas DC6 aircraft from which identification markings had been removed at Clark Field air force base in the Philippines on 6–7 July.79 The Foreign Office requested further information from the authorities in Singapore.80 Investigations in Bangkok suggested that Li Mi might be financially independent because opium was the main commodity used to facilitate KMT activities. Opium was ideal as air freight and profits would be large – ‘In other words we may be confronted with a lucrative racket with military operations reduced to a side line.’ 81 The Sea Supply Company and Chennault’s CAT were unquestionably involved deeply, which meant that the KMT would continue to operate and it was hard to see how sanctions could be effective. CAT activities were examined closely by intelligence personnel in London. CAT planes landed twice a week in Bangkok and reports were received of aircraft flying regularly

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north-west from south-east over Chiengrai (far north of Thailand). CAT planes were believed to total 33, mostly Commando and Dakota aircraft. Circumstantial evidence indicated that Western Enterprises, an American-owned company, operating in Taiwan, was advising the KMT government and could be involved in assisting with supplies to the KMT in Burma.82 The Foreign Office was slightly more optimistic that matters would improve in 1954–55 and that the Eisenhower administration would urge KMT withdrawal from Burma.83 However, E.H. Jacobs-Larkcom, consul in Chiengmai who had served in Taiwan, reported disturbingly in January 1955 on a conversation with his American colleague, Rufus Smith. The latter had met two KMT colonels and they maintained that their forces operated independently of Taiwan, financed by the opium trade. They were well armed: poor quality weapons had gone to Taiwan with personnel already evacuated. The colonels claimed that KMT forces totalled approximately 8,000, more than previously thought. The Thai police were working with the KMT: this was underlined by a recent mysterious crash of a police plane, which was apparently overloaded with opium.84 In May 1955, rumours of KMT troops moving into Laos reached London. The American military attaché in Vientiane, Colonel Gordon, told the British minister that he was in contact with local KMT army officers and he did not believe that significant numbers had crossed from Burma to Laos. Gordon added that he had flown above the scene of recent fighting between KMT forces and the Burmese army: the latter was not strong enough to defeat the KMT. Gordon said that a secret airstrip existed just inside Laos (on the Lao side of the Mekong); a Thai aeroplane full of opium had crashed at the airfield and the opium was worth around $US 150,000.85 Alarm was voiced in London: matters were complicated enough in Laos without inserting KMT involvement. The Foreign Office was suspicious of the role of the American military attaché: Incidentally, the US Military Attache seems to have his fingers in a good many pies. How did he come to see the Chinese commander of the Kuomintang troops on the other side of the Mekong? In any case ... it looks as though his account of the fighting in Burma comes from a KMT source.86 Lebel of the French embassy in London stated that Gordon had tried to encourage French contact with the KMT in Laos, on instructions from Washington; the French declined to cooperate.87 Denis Allen wrote,


on 6 July 1955, to the British minister in Vientiane asking for more information on Colonel Gordon’s links with the KMT. He commented: ‘Such activities are clearly not only inopportune but potentially dangerous and offer a wonderful opportunity to the communists to make trouble in Laos.’88 F.S. Tomlinson had already observed ‘This is pretty monstrous.’89 Eighteen months later F.A. Warner and Group-Captain Peter Townshend reported on a tour of the Shan region. They visited Kengtung. Local people told them of oppressive conduct by the Burmese army, which included widespread rape and extortion. The Burmese had abandoned attempts to expel KMT troops: the last significant operations occurred in 1954 and 1955. The army claimed to have defeated the KMT but residents of Kengtung described it as ‘a costly defeat’.90 Therefore, the KMT troops were left to their own devices: they had settled down with their families, fields and airstrip by the Mekong with their camps situated in the hills behind. They seemed to number approximately 2,000 with a following comprising bandits and renegades. They cultivated the land, operated a sawmill, organised the opium trade and controlled a morphine factory. The KMT levied contributions from the hill people. Arms were obtained from outside sources. The KMT had offered to accept the authority of the local Shan prince but this was rejected by the Burmese government. The impact of KMT presence on the local economy was detrimental because local people had to support themselves plus their ‘guests’. The KMT had halted raids into Yunnan and Chinese communist interest had correspondingly diminished; there was little likelihood of communist forces moving into Burma. The best solution was for the Burmese army to depart and for KMT commanders to accept the authority of Shan sawbwas. The UN continued to urge KMT withdrawal and an amicable solution. KMT personnel were withdrawn and flown to Taiwan. However, the British ambassador in Rangoon observed, in his annual report for 1961, that there was little doubt that KMT forces in Burma had been strengthened with reinforcements replacing those withdrawn; this entailed American connivance. Chinese communist forces had entered Burma in 1961 to assist the Burmese army in operations against the KMT.91 Subsequently some KMT departed for Taiwan and the remainder gradually assimilated with local inhabitants while continuing to run the lucrative opium trade. The importance for Burma of the prolonged activities of KMT troops, with American support, is that it pushed General Ne Win and his supporters towards the conclusion that the military should assume full power and protect the integrity of the state

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against Shan autonomists, the KMT and interference from the United States.

Arrival of military dictatorship Burma in the 1950s was a weak state which had done well to survive the traumatic circumstances of birth and infancy. Corruption grew and undermined the Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League (AFPFL). U Nu was well intentioned and possessed a certain shrewdness but he lacked the authority of Aung San. Nu could not control growing factionalism in the AFPFL. He distrusted Ne Win with good reason. However, Ne Win’s power was expanding and he was in effective control of the army. In 1958, Nu agreed to hand over to a temporary caretaker administration headed by Ne Win. In his first spell in power, Ne Win was careful to restrict the army’s role and to concentrate on reducing corruption, combating separatism and refining his experience for a later coup when he deemed the time propitious. In 1960, Ne Win agreed to relinquish power and hold elections: he hoped that those in the AFPFL supporting him would triumph. Nu had broken with his former colleagues and established the Union Party, pledged to democracy, conciliation with the hill peoples and pursuance of a nonaligned foreign policy. To Ne Win’s surprise, the elections resulted in a decisive victory for Nu and his supporters. Burmese experienced the last phase of democracy before descent into the horrors of militarism extending into the indefinite future.92 The Foreign Office liked Nu while recognising his weaknesses. Nu visited Britain in June 1955 and stated that he would like to meet Sir Winston Churchill who had retired two months earlier. Churchill was not initially keen to see Nu because of his declining health and because he was reducing commitments at his advanced age. The new foreign secretary, Harold Macmillan, wrote to Churchill urging him to see Nu if possible: he argued that Nu wished to meet Churchill to achieve final reconciliation, following the old statesman’s past criticisms of granting independence to Burma.93 Churchill agreed to see Nu and they met at number 28 Hyde Park Gate. The meeting was described thus by Anthony Montague-Brown: The interview lasted about half an hour and a wide range of topics were discussed, including the fate of Aung San ... , the relative virtues of a rectangular or semi-circular parliament, the bird life of Burma, the prospects of a détente in the world, and the political situation


in Burma. Nothing of great interest emerged from the last point but U Nu said that the Karen rebellion was collapsing and only the American Baptist Karens still opposed the Government. The interview was very cordial and on shaking hands with U Nu as he left, Sir Winston Churchill said “So we bury our antagonism.” U Nu received this very well.94 A photograph of Churchill and Nu shaking hands was taken and later used by Nu in political campaigns. This illustrates the generosity of Nu plus Churchill’s magnanimity. Nu also met Queen Elizabeth II, Eden and Attlee. Another example of continuing links between Britain and Burma arose from the decision to construct a statue of Aung San in Rangoon. A British sculptor, Bainbridge Copnall, was chosen to fulfil the work in bronze; it was erected on a site near the royal lake, previously occupied by a statue of King Edward VII, destroyed by the Japanese. The statue was unveiled by the president of Burma, Dr Ba U, on 13 February 1955 in the presence of Aung San’s widow and daughter. Nu spoke and cited a passage from President Abraham Lincoln’s address at Gettysburg to the effect that the dead had consecrated the ground where they had fallen and the living must complete their mission. The British ambassador, Paul Gore-Booth, spoke and read messages from the Churchill government and Earl Mountbatten of Burma. The statue depicted Aung San in British officers’ service dress, frequently worn by Aung San. The statue was nine-feet tall and cost £2,100. A.N. MacCleary of the Foreign Office minuted: ‘Since many Burmese still suspect us of having been involved in the murder of Aung San, it was a very good idea of the Ambassador’s to have these messages sent and it must have created a good impression.’95 Anthony Eden visited Burma briefly in March 1955, partly for personal reasons. He met Nu and other ministers. Nu expressed full confidence in Eden, influenced probably by Eden’s outstanding diplomacy during the Geneva conference in 1954. Eden explained current developments relating to SEATO and answered questions concerning Taiwan and KMT-held islands off the coast of China. Eden fulfilled the private side of his visit by attending the grave of his son, Pilot Officer Simon Eden, who had been killed in June 1945.96 A developing and ominous theme in the later 1950s was disaffection in the Shan state. The chief areas of contention involved the future powers of the sawbwas and the right of secession from the Union of Burma. The British ambassador, Richard Allen, described the sawbwas as often corrupt or inept yet preferable to administrators appointed by

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the Burmese government.97 British intelligence had obtained information confirming that the Burmese army had no idea as to how to handle Shan discontent. Nu was respected but he was opposed adamantly to secession, again quoting Lincoln on the issue. Shan emissaries made vague approaches for support to the British and American embassies in Rangoon. The Chinese communists were causing trouble in border areas and had established an ‘autonomous area’ in Yunnan, adjacent to the border, which they invited the sawbwas to visit. The former president of Burma, Sao Shwe Thaike (who was a Shan sawbwa) spent two months in China: the ambassador described him as ‘extremely stupid’.98 The Russians had encouraged rumours that the United States wanted to create a separate Shan state and establish an atomic base there. The Foreign Office appreciated the dangers in contacts between the Shan sawbwas and British or American officials.99 For a number of reasons Burma was assuming more importance for British intelligence. Richard Allen observed, in a despatch to the foreign secretary, ‘I am informed that Burma now has the highest security and intelligence grading of any country in South-East Asia. Yet it is the only country in South-East Asia where the Air Attache has no aircraft or even a share in one ... .’100 D.F. Duncan commented ‘He mentions ... that Burma now has the highest security and intelligence grading of any country in S.E.Asia (this is news to me, though it may well be true) but, of our various intelligence requirements there, I would not have thought that intelligence on the air side rated very highly.’101 Allen had expressed anxiety at the presence of Soviet aircraft but Duncan thought that the number was not high. The significance of Burma for British intelligence was the consequence of proximity to China and Indochina and of American activity on behalf of the KMT. In the main, it was a story of observing developments and deploying diplomacy when required. On 26 September 1958, Nu made a radio broadcast in which he announced that General Ne Win would succeed him and would head an interim administration. Free and fair elections would be held at the end of April 1959 when the military government would transfer power to a civilian administration.102 The embassy in Rangoon warned that care should be exercised so as not to lend credence to communist allegations that the army’s assumption of power occurred at the instigation of ‘the imperialists’ and SEATO.103 Elections were held later than envisaged but Ne Win on this occasion adhered to his agreement with Nu and transferred authority to an administration led by Nu. What did the British think of Ne Win? The pessimistic tended to prevail over the optimistic. The general was secretive, remote, a narrow


nationalist devoid of sympathy for minorities, interested in advancing his own political and financial interests, suspicious of foreigners and particularly resentful of those seeking to intervene in Burma’s internal affairs. On the other hand, he could exercise charm when so minded; Malcolm MacDonald was the principal advocate of handling Ne Win generously to gain his confidence. Ne Win visited Britain quite frequently during the 1950s and again after seizing power in 1962. He came partly for medical treatment but he usually met politicians and officials. The Foreign Office sought to provide reasonable hospitality for their wary visitor. Ne Win was a political general and did not wish to spend too much time discussing military business. Thus in August 1956 F.S. Tomlinson reflected on Ne Win’s most recent visit and concluded that it had gone quite successfully. The general was fairly amiable if erratic in his preferences; he declined a few invitations, including one to a garden party at Buckingham Palace.104 The Burmese ambassador wrote to explain that Ne Win was suffering from ill-health but the Foreign Office noted sardonically that this did not preclude frequent rounds of golf.105 In his annual review for 1961, the British ambassador stated that an army coup was unlikely but not impossible. Nu’s position was weaker than it had been in 1960 largely because he had been indecisive. Factionalism in Nu’s party was serious with acrimony growing between moderate and left-wing groups; Nu was on record as saying that he wished to retire from politics in 1964. Nu had acted unwisely in making Buddhism the state religion because this had alienated minorities: he was forced to introduce an amendment, stipulating protection for minorities. The only brisk government Burma had experienced since independence was when the army was in power between 1958 and 1960: the military could take over when Nu retired or perhaps sooner.106 On 2 March 1962, the army seized power and this proved to be permanent. Nu and other ministers were detained, as were the Shan sawbwas: the latter had pressed for the adoption of a federal constitution and, conveniently from Ne Win’s viewpoint, were in Rangoon when the coup was implemented.107 Fred Warner contributed a brief, succinct assessment for the guidance of the foreign secretary, Lord Home. The coup was not anticipated and it could have been occasioned by factionalism within the Union Party and the role of criminal elements within the party. Warner gave a surprisingly favourable view of Ne Win: He is a very good man and can be relied on to do his best for Burma. Though originally anti-British, he has developed quite an affection for us in recent years and personally made great efforts to ensure

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the recent success of Princess Alexandra’s recent visit to Burma. He adopts a fair attitude as between east and West.108 On 5 March, Warner recommended recognition of the new regime, which appeared to possess effective control of the country.109 It did not take long for disturbing news to arrive, which compelled Warner to amend his assessment. Richard Allen, the ambassador, wrote to Warner on 21 March 1962, explaining that many prominent people were under arrest, including the deposed prime minister and a deeply respected former chief justice. The new government was suspicious of Britain and the United States for attempting to subvert the Shan state and carry it into membership of SEATO. The army was influenced by events in the Congo: Ne Win was said to have told a visitor that the British were responsible for the situation in Katanga and the notorious Colonel Tulloch was still attempting to interfere in the domestic affairs of Burma.110 James Cable minuted ‘It looks as though we shall have to watch our step with the new government.’111 E.H. Peck wrote that Singapore should be alerted but ‘We don’t want the Americans – or the Services in Singapore – getting jumpy about Burma at this stage.’112 At the end of March 1962, Allen told Warner that he was worried at the emerging trend: the army’s takeover was evidently the consequence of Shan enthusiasm for federalism, which was unacceptable to Ne Win. In addition, Ne Win appeared to desire closer relations with China and he had attended a reception in the Chinese embassy. Ne Win stood for reversion to traditional authoritarianism and repudiation of the leadership styles offered by Aung San and Nu.113 Allen expanded on his views in a despatch to Lord Home sent on 4 April 1962. The regime was autocratic and hasty decisions were being made. The principal personalities were Ne Win and Aung Gyi; Pakistan, Egypt and China were regarded as sources of inspiration for future planning. Foreign scholarships would only be awarded on a government-to-government basis in future: this affected the British Council, Asia Foundation and Ford Foundation and scholarships would probably be cancelled. Considerable suspicion centred on the tense situation in the Shan state: the United States, Britain and Thailand were alleged to be plotting to incorporate the Shan state within SEATO. Allen warned ‘We must face the distinct possibility that Burma’s neutrality, which had a pro-western bias during the caretaker regime [between 1958 and 1960] will now be biased in the opposite direction.’114 The government was burnishing the image of Aung San because he had worked with Ne Win during the Pacific War: the mausoleum in which the body of Aung San lay was to be rebuilt on


a grandiose scale. The Foreign Office decided that Malcolm MacDonald should go to Rangoon for talks with Ne Win.115 MacDonald and his wife visited Rangoon between 28 April and 4 May 1962. Ne Win spoke frankly and said he had long contemplated implementing a coup. Timing was determined by the threat presented by federalism: Burma could have faced a ‘Katanga situation’ and this could not be permitted. Those under arrest would remain in detention; they would not be harmed. Corruption must be eliminated and a new spirit instilled. Ne Win claimed that he was ‘a convinced democrat with a desire for an eventual restoration of parliamentary government’ but this would not occur in the near future. The army would not stay in control for more than two or three years: he might decide to leave the army to fulfil a political role. The new regime would follow a policy of socialism as defined by Ne Win. His foreign policy would be one of nonalignment. Ne Win conveyed his suspicion of American designs –‘He is resentful and critical of much American policy in South-East Asia including Burma.’ MacDonald tried to convince him that the Kennedy administration was ‘much wiser’ than the Eisenhower administration but Ne Win was sceptical. MacDonald was impressed by ‘his sense of dedicated patriotism and integrity’ but disturbed by ‘his anti-American and some of his anti-capitalistic prejudices’.116 Ne Win also criticised the Soviet Union but he was principally concerned about the United States: he accused the CIA of interference in Burma’s domestic affairs.117 An edited version of MacDonald’s report was sent to the American embassy ‘which is identical with the original, except that most of the General’s sweeping condemnation of the Americans and all their works has been omitted’.118 The brutality of the regime became more conspicuous in the summer of 1962. More arrests took place and oppression was harsh. One of the worst examples occurred in July 1962 when at least 100 students were killed in Rangoon and the Students Union building was blown up.119 Shortly before these events took place MacDonald met Ne Win again and the general sought to offer reassurance that he desired good relations with Britain. MacDonald believed that Ne Win should retain power for a lengthy period – ‘I urged on him again that he should be prepared to remain in his supreme position, if necessary for the next decade or two.’120 It was a singularly foolish statement to make when evidence of military oppression was accumulating daily. Developments in 1962 and 1963 confirmed the opinions of the pessimists. Ne Win declared that the ‘Burmese Road to Socialism’ would transform the country’s prospects through nationalisation, reduction in foreign participation in the

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economy and emphasis on nationalism. Instead of being a road to prosperity, it pointed towards a cul-de-sac of narrow, brutal and ultimately disastrous character. In March 1963, James Cable wrote that matters were deteriorating and Burma was moving to the left: Burma seems to us now to be well on the road to a Left Wing army dictatorship on Communist lines. No doubt Burmese nationalism, even isolationism, will lead them to resist foreign influence but their nationalisation of the Banks has already taken them further left than anyone else in non-Communist South East Asia. Can we expect them to stop short of, say, the Yugoslav position?121 British companies were nationalised and the opportunities for investment diminished. The new ambassador, Gordon Whitteridge, observed that British businessmen underestimated Ne Win’s tenacity: Ne Win was in a hurry and intended to assert his egregious blend of nationalism and socialism sooner rather than later.122 Shan rebels based in Thailand made contact with British officials in the summer of 1963 to ascertain if there was a possibility of securing British support. It is interesting to note that a member of the embassy staff in Rangoon explained to a colleague in Bangkok ‘We have been passing to the Burmese Ministry of Defence copies of the Shan rebels’ approach to British representatives in Thailand ... .’123 Clearly it was deemed wise to allay suspicions that encouragement was being given to Shan dissidents: it may also have been intended to indicate that British agents were not supporting clandestine American activities. At the same time, it was important to keep track of the numerical strength of the various rebel forces in Burma. In August 1962, the embassy in Rangoon estimated total strength of insurgents at approximately 10,000, distributed as follows: Karen Shan KMT BCP CPB Mon

3,000–4,000 2,000–3,000 2,000 1,500 200 50 124

In August 1963, the embassy responded to a request from London for a ‘child’s guide’ to communist and Marxist groups. The CPB (‘Red Flags’) castigated the Soviet Union and China, the former for revisionism and the latter for mildness in criticising Moscow. The BCP (‘White Flags’) was


strongly pro-Chinese, following internal struggle. The National United Front (NUF) was a left-wing organisation, dominated by the United Workers Party of Burma: including affiliates it had a combined strength of approximately 5,000 and it supported Moscow. The Burma Socialist Programme Party was a small cadre party, set up by Ne Win to promote ‘The Burmese Road to Socialism’. The Union Party was a left-wing democratic party, led by Thakin Tin: previously, it had been a component of the AFPFL. The AFPFL comprised the rump of the formerly large party, now led by U Ba Swe: its nucleus was the Burma Socialist Party.125 British diplomacy and intelligence endeavoured to influence developments in various ways. At the top, prominent men such as Malcolm MacDonald and Earl Mountbatten were despatched to Rangoon to meet Ne Win.126 British propaganda was infiltrated into the Burmese army and bureaucracy.127 However, it was decided to steer clear of the numerous conspiracies pursued by dissidents in exile, many of whom fulfilled the usual criteria for quarrelsome émigrés inspired by unrealistic aims. Thus the Foreign Office determined to eschew contact with Bo Setkya, a businessman and politician who was plotting from his base in the Curzon Hotel in London.128 The overall aim, as expressed in a letter to Mountbatten, was ‘to persuade Ne Win that it is too dangerous for him to rely solely on the army and that his natural allies are to be found in the better members of the democratic parties in Burma and even among some of the leaders of the minority peoples: The Shans, Karens and Kachins’.129 However, Ne Win had implemented his coup because he was opposed to making concessions to minorities and it was most unlikely that he would change his approach. Mountbatten visited Burma at the end of January and early February 1964. Ne Win provided attractive entertainment and cleared one beach and hotel of other visitors when he met Mountbatten. Ne Win denied that he was applying a ‘communist’ policy: in fact, he was fighting communist insurgents. He contended that foreign firms had fared too well in the past and he wished to redress the balance. As regards minorities, his coup was intended to save the Union and prevent disintegration. Mountbatten emphasised British anxiety: Britain did not want Burma to become an easy target for Chinese ambitions.130 Ne Win seems to have concluded that he had met enough distinguished British visitors, since he declined (on grounds of ill-health) to see Lord Carrington when the cabinet minister visited Rangoon in April 1964. The ambassador speculated that Ne Win’s hostility to SEATO explained the refusal of Ne Win and his colleagues to meet Carrington. It is tempting to think that Carrington took his revenge in a press statement praising U Thant, Burmese delegate to

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the UN Security Council and a future UN secretary-general: Thant had served as Nu’s private secretary and he was not popular with the new regime. According to the ambassador, Carrington’s parting words at the airport were ‘At least there is one person in London who knows how awful things are here.’131 Later in 1964, Ne Win spent two months in Britain for medical treatment in the London Clinic. He met the queen on 12 November, having already seen Sir Alec Douglas-Home, Harold Macmillan, Earl Attlee and Princess Alexandra. He played golf at Gleneagles.132 Macmillan remarked that Ne Win reminded him of a ‘Scottish caddy’, which sheds entertaining light on Macmillan’s opinion of Scottish caddies and, indeed, on Macmillan himself.133 As a goodwill gesture, it was decided to return to Burma items of the ‘Mandalay regalia’, captured by British forces at the time of annexation and held in the Victoria and Albert Museum since 1890. The items included gold and silver dating from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. One of the most valuable was plain rather than ornate: it was a sheathed dagger, revered as one of the five emblems of monarchy. It was agreed that the dagger should be presented to Ne Win by the foreign secretary, now Patrick Gordon Walker.134 Ne Win welcomed the British gesture but it made no difference to his policy. It is, of course, striking that Ne Win could absent himself from Burma for a lengthy period and that he should spend this time in a country that he regarded suspiciously. The ambassador in Rangoon explained that Ne Win wished to preserve a balance in relations between East and West. Anglo-Burmese relations ‘struck bottom between March and September’ [1963] but had improved somewhat since.135 The only solace derived by the Foreign Office from the ambassador’s valedictory despatch was that ‘The Burmese do at least seem to be as suspicious and curmudgeonly towards the communist world as towards ourselves.’136 Whitteridge was pessimistic on the future: there had been a reversion to the arbitrary rule and xenophobia of the Kingdom of Ava; fear and suspicion could be detected throughout Burma. Oppression, incompetence and obstructive bureaucracy prevailed. The position of foreign companies was dire. The ambassador’s conclusion was sombre and certainly very different from the tone struck by Malcolm MacDonald soon after Ne Win’s coup: General Ne Win may now be the prisoner of the system he has created. It is becoming less and less likely that there will be a turning back; on the contrary the prospects of general coercion loom larger. A fundamental weakness which is becoming more marked is General


Ne Win’s personal isolation. His colleagues are too frightened of him to argue with him and he has nobody upon whom to sharpen his wits, apart from his wife. If and when he goes, I fear that pent-up animosities among the Burmese proper as well as the minority races may give rise to bloody disorders.137 The real tragedy was the assassination of Aung San in 1947. In a country with few outstanding leaders, the loss, at the age of 32, of a charismatic personality, possessing vision and magnanimity, was a devastating blow: it is all the more tragic to recall that a few British nationals were implicated in the assassination. It is fitting that the chief source of inspiration for ending militarism and restoring democracy should be Aung San Suu Kyi, daughter of Aung San. Her courageous struggle, conducted over a period of 20 years, helps to keep alive hope that the peoples of Burma may eventually attain the better future they deserve.

5 Ambivalence and Commitment: Vietnam, 1955–65

The aftermath of the Geneva conference saw a weak, embittered and divided South Vietnam and a confident, if weary, North Vietnam starting to confront the post-French era. The British minister in Saigon, Hugh Stephenson, summarised developments concisely in his annual report for 1954. The surrender of Dien Bien Phu marked the collapse of French authority and exposed the decrepit nature of administration in Saigon. Bao Dai continued as head of state and appointed Ngo Dinh Diem as prime minister. The two men cordially detested each other and a deadly struggle for dominance soon gathered momentum; this culminated in victory for Diem. Bao Dai appointed Diem because there was no alternative: Bao Dai believed he could maintain the upper hand through his various contacts in the military, police and the sects, particularly the Binh Xuyen. Stephenson described Diem as having appointed a ‘fighting government’ of ‘incompetent nobodies’. Diem was reserved in his initial dealings with the International Control Commission (ICC), set up to supervise implementation of the Geneva accords. By contrast the reactions of Ho Chi Minh were those of an ‘assured Head of State, bent upon demonstrating the value and effectiveness of his regime’.1 The political provisions of the Geneva agreements presented more problems for the ICC than the military features. The Vietminh occupation of Hanoi, on 9 October 1954, was ‘the real symbol of the confirmation of Communist authority in the north’.2 American influence in the south was replacing French influence, the American aim being ‘victory for the anti-Communist south’.3 The reputation of the United States had suffered in Southeast Asia during 1954 and it was desirable that the reverse should obtain in 1955. He ended with the optimistic observation ‘The British, set aside a little from the hurly-burly, have a part to play in easing and explaining these difficult relationships.’4 128


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Malcolm MacDonald resumed his accustomed role as principal cheerleader for Bao Dai. At the end of 1954, MacDonald reported on discussions pursued by Stephenson and himself with General Collins and Admiral Radford. MacDonald suggested that Diem should be supported temporarily but he regarded Bao Dai as more important. Collins and Radford agreed and held that Bao Dai had not flourished in the past because of French control. However, it was essential that Bao Dai returned from Cannes and fulfilled his responsibilities in Saigon. MacDonald repeated that Collins and Radford wanted Bao Dai to return: it is interesting to note that Eden queried this statement in red ink.5 MacDonald thought that Collins and perhaps other Americans had little faith in Diem. Eden minuted that he had no confidence in Bao Dai – ‘I can see no salvation in Bao Dai. MacDonald is too keen an advocate. Should he not be told so? The man plays baccarat while his soldiers are killed.’6 Officials in the Foreign Office agreed with Eden and recommended that Bao Dai should abdicate in favour of his 18-year-old son.7 This preference was communicated to MacDonald: he was warned that he should not lead the Americans and the French to believe that Britain wished to assign ‘any effective influence’ to the discredited emperor.8 The Economist raised the question of postponing elections in Vietnam in a leading article published on 8 January 1955.9 The author argued that deferring elections could be justified on the grounds that the Geneva agreements implied electoral freedom in the whole of Vietnam and this condition could not be satisfied. The French were losing interest and they were prepared to reach an accommodation with the Vietminh. The Americans were determined to prevent a communist takeover in the south. If de facto partition became permanent, it was imperative that the Western powers place responsibility for division where it belonged – on communist shoulders. James Cable produced a cogent minute in which he warned of the dangers in undermining the Geneva agreements: The Economist speaks about the Manila Treaty but if the Viet Minh were to renew their aggression because of a Western breach of the Geneva Agreements, neither European nor Asian public opinion would wholeheartedly endorse counter action under the Manila Treaty. We should thus find ourselves back on the horns of the very dilemma from which the Geneva Settlement rescued us: Whether to abandon all Indo-China to the Communists or to embark on the unpopular course of armed intervention at the risk of general war. To my mind we must stick to the Geneva Agreement and risk the possible loss of South Vietnam after the elections, in order to be able to


maintain the support of world and particular Asian, opinion for the independence of Laos and Cambodia.10 Cable dismissed the arguments in The Economist as disingenuous: the freer the elections, the higher would be the Vietminh majority. Well ahead of the conclusions of the Geneva agreements, Sir Hubert Graves, then minister in Saigon, forecast that the Vietminh would obtain ninety percent of the vote. W.J.M. Patterson agreed with Cable: Britain’s emphasis on free elections for Korea and Germany meant that there was no alternative other than to endorse the holding of elections.11 The prospects for Diem retaining office seemed remote in the first few months of 1955. Diem was grappling with huge problems and he did not possess the requisite political skills for success. But Diem was stubborn and prepared to take on his opponents with support from the Americans who rejected the negative assessment of General Collins. Between late March and early May 1955 Diem embarked upon action intended to undermine Bao Dai, so that the absentee emperor could be excluded from further involvement in Saigon. Diem challenged the autonomous sects (Binh Xuyen and Cao Dai): in turn this included challenging French influence. The latter was diminishing but French military and naval commanders cooperated with the sects. Diem was strongly anti-French and the French responded in kind. The French resented the rise of American power and French officers were disinclined to go out of their way to assist Americans. The political situation was fluid and unpredictable in April 1955 but with speculation that Diem would be ousted and Bao Dai might return or that Diem might survive. Bao Dai sought to halt the fighting between Diem’s forces and the Binh Xuyen.12 A Revolutionary Committee emerged in Saigon at the beginning of May and this body launched vitriolic attacks on Bao Dai. Stephenson reported that the Revolutionary Committee was an amorphous organisation and that it included representatives of the Cao Dai and some Vietminh supporters; Diem’s younger brother, Ngo Dinh Nhu, was closely involved in setting up the Revolutionary Committee.13 He added that Bao Dai’s prestige had collapsed: it was too early to write off the emperor but the trend was against the monarchy. During the summer of 1955, Diem gradually gained the upper hand with American encouragement. Anthony Eden at last became prime minister in April 1955 following Churchill’s retirement. Eden called an immediate general election and won a decisive mandate. He was succeeded as foreign secretary by Harold Macmillan. This marked the start of a move away from Eden’s


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intimate association with the Geneva accords. Eden maintained his interest but his commitments as prime minister meant that he could not follow developments in Indochina closely. Macmillan was able and ambitious and he wished to give a rather different emphasis to policy in Vietnam. He minuted on 10 August that the date (20 July) by which consultations for holding elections in Vietnam should have occurred had passed without much protest. Macmillan favoured supporting Diem – ‘We have a little time and I certainly do not want to weaken the position of the Government in South Vietnam unduly ... Our problem seems to me to be how to conform with the so-called democratic opinion of the world without producing a situation too dangerous for Mr. Diem and his friends who seem to be our best hope in that area.’14 At the beginning of September Eden addressed three minutes to Macmillan, expressing his ire at statements made by John Foster Dulles, revealing that Dulles was moving away from the Geneva agreements – ‘I hope we shall address the United States Government very seriously on this subject soon. If they are going to advise a wrecking of the Geneva Agreement – for this is what it amounts to – we should make it clear that it is their sole responsibility.’15 The difference between Macmillan and Eden was that the former wished to secure improvement in Anglo-American relations after the acrimony associated with the Geneva conference and he was prepared to move closer to the American position on Vietnam. Although Britain was formally committed to the holding of elections in 1956, in practice there was no inclination to press the issue. Ho Chi Minh and his colleagues concentrated on economic and social reform in the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV) and held that Diem’s administration was so fragile that collapse was a question of time. Britain had special responsibility as co-chairman and consultations with the Soviet Union were necessary from time to time. In the main, Macmillan and the Foreign Office favoured a policy of ‘masterly inactivity’. Macmillan wrote to Sir Robert Scott, the commissioner-general in Southeast Asia, on 12 December 1955, commenting that it should be feasible ‘to play matters along’ until July 1956 while evading proposals to reconvene the Geneva conference. He wrote that ‘he was not without hope’ that the status quo in Vietnam could be preserved. It depended, in part, on whether Diem could retain power and whether the Vietminh attempted to take over South Vietnam. In Laos it looked as though de facto partition would continue; in Cambodia matters appeared more encouraging


and it might be possible to terminate the ICC there.16 Against the odds Diem survived and gained respect by so doing. Diplomats and journalists remarked on his remoteness and inability to understand the peasants. Diem was a fervent Roman Catholic and the influence of the Catholic Church increased, which was not encouraging in a state where only around 10 per cent of the population was Catholic. Diem’s tenacity was also acknowledged: he continued Bao Dai’s policy of expanding the armed forces but this was ultimately to contribute to his savage demise. The United States supported Diem and Britain acquiesced. Diem continued to strengthen his position in 1956 but there were fundamental weaknesses in his administration. Dennis Bloodworth contributed a balanced assessment in an article published in The Observer in July 1956. Diem had proved tougher than anticipated but the quality of administration was poor; corruption, inefficiency and disloyalty could readily be discerned. Diem should tackle grave social and economic problems ‘and loosen his ties with the Americans, for the majority of Vietnamese like most Asians, are irresistibly attracted by the Indian form of neutralism’.17 The Vietminh had the potential to inspire subversion at the instigation of Hanoi or with the encouragement of the Soviet Union and China. The article was praised by James Cable.18 Bloodworth’s reference to India raises an aspect of much interest – the desire of the Foreign Office to encourage a positive role for India in Southeast Asia. Krishna Menon, the Indian politician and friend of Nehru, commented, in exchanges with the Foreign Office, that Vietnam should be regarded as falling within the Chinese sphere of influence. Cable minuted that ‘We were, of course, ourselves partly responsible for inculcating this idea at the time of the Geneva Conference of 1954 when we were concentrating all our efforts on securing Indian support for maintaining the independence of Laos and Cambodia.’19 A few days earlier Denis Allen had commented ‘It has been the main aim of our policy since the Geneva Conference of 1954 to get Laos and Cambodia separated from Vietnam and then to encourage them to orientate themselves westwards rather than eastwards.’20 Clearly this confirmed the negative opinion within the Foreign Office concerning the future of Vietnam and the rather more sanguine view on the future of Laos and Cambodia. The ambassador to Thailand, Sir Berkeley Gage, believed that it was more important to foster Thai influence in Southeast Asia. Thailand, Laos and Cambodia had in common Buddhism and monarchy. Gage regarded Indians as too unpredictable or erratic and felt that Thailand was a better prospect.21 He conveniently ignored the history


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of friction between Thailand, Laos and Cambodia and the scope for Thai expansion, revealed during the Pacific War.22 Professor B.R. Pearn, the academic authority on Southeast Asia in the Foreign Office, commented on 10 August 1956 that he rejected Gage’s arguments. There could be no true comparison between the influence of India and Thailand. India was far more important and would almost certainly remain so for the foreseeable future. Thailand had to be propped up by the Western powers whereas India could act independently. ‘For free Asia, as has often been said, the choice seems to lie between Socialism on the Indian pattern and Communism on the Chinese pattern. There may be some third way of life but, if so, it is not evident to Asian minds.’23 India possessed the potential for firm leadership and saw itself as the successor to Great Britain in Southeast Asia. Pearn added that Indian leaders were sensitive about their frontiers ‘and it would hardly be too much to say that, if the frontier of the United Kingdom lies on the Rhine, that of India lies today on the Annamite Chain’.24 India had no desire to see Chinese influence extended in the region. He conceded that Indians could sometimes be tiresome to deal with – ‘It may be, however, that they find us equally irritating.’25 He had no doubt that security against the advance of communism could be promoted through cooperating with India.26 One problem in stimulating Indian involvement was American suspicion of Indian motives. J.A. Snellgrove of the Foreign Office discussed the issue with Patricia Byrne of the State Department when she visited London in October 1956: she confirmed that the Eisenhower administration was wary as regards encouraging Indian activity in Southeast Asia..27 Cable had earlier reiterated his belief in bolstering Laos and Cambodia: ‘We already have too many liabilities – in the form of defenceless allies – in South East Asia and I think Laos and Cambodia will be both safer and more useful to us as neutral buffer states than as members of SEATO.’28 Significantly Cable did not refer to South Vietnam. Britain was committed formally to holding elections in Vietnam to achieve unification, as stipulated in the Geneva agreements. Given Diem’s opposition to elections, it was unlikely that they would take place. Diem was strengthened by the knowledge of American opposition, since it was appreciated in Washington that in a contest between Ho Chi Minh and Diem there would be one certain victor. Cable observed in April that the Geneva settlement had worked reasonably well as long as France retained a fair measure of control in South Vietnam. But this had ceased to apply and Diem was intransigent. He added that collapse of the Geneva agreements would lead, as the Soviet


Union warned, to renewed fighting in Vietnam.29 The Foreign Office hoped to attain progress through obtaining undertakings from South Vietnam not to accept foreign troops, not to agree to the establishment of foreign military bases and not to join military alliances. There was no wish to convene another international conference, although this was advocated by communist states.30 The Vietminh were passive, pending the holding of elections; the British minister in Saigon noted that there was occasional evidence of Vietminh activity in Saigon ‘and one must suppose that some Viet Minh influence exists in the Administration’.31 The situation in South Vietnam was much better than it had been a year earlier but Diem lacked appeal and flexibility. A deceptive lull occurred between 1957 and 1959. In North Vietnam attention focused on improving productivity and fulfilment of the State Plan, as emphasised by Ho Chi Minh in his address, commemorating the proclamation of the DRV, delivered in September 1957.32 Ho also spoke of his foreign travel in which he had visited nine ‘socialist’ states. Divisions within the DRV leadership over attempts to implement more rapid progress in agriculture provoked unrest and reinforced the feeling that it was necessary to concentrate on strengthening the state before embarking on adventurous policies in the south.33 In his annual report for 1957, the British minister in Saigon, Roderick Parkes, said that hopes entertained a year before had not been fulfilled. The economic situation had deteriorated and an attempt to assassinate Diem, in February 1957, had weakened his authority. Diem faced vigorous criticism in academic circles but he brushed this aside. Morale in the army had improved and the army was better trained and equipped. Diem emulated Ho in embarking on foreign visits: he went to India and South Korea and received an invitation to visit Taiwan in 1958. The Japanese prime minister, Kishi Nobusuke, visited Saigon in November 1957, as did the crown prince of Iraq. Tunku Abdul Rahman, prime minister of Malaya, was due to arrive in January 1958. Relations between Britain and South Vietnam were cordial; Lord Reading led a delegation to Saigon in October 1957 and he was preceded by British military and naval representatives.34 British diplomats devoted attention to investigating the character of Diem’s regime and the influence of one of his brothers, Ngo Dinh Nhu. Parkes reported anxiety in July 1958 at the growth of corruption associated with the Can Lao party. The latter was involved in an export-licensing racket and Nhu and his wife demanded shares in every enterprise of importance. The position was potentially dangerous for Diem and it was unclear how aware he was of such matters.35 A concise assessment of the


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Can Lao (‘Party of Labour and Revolutionary Personalism’) was sent to London in October 1958. It was based on information obtained from the Americans, the French and British intelligence. The Can Lao represented an attempt to produce a synthesis between Roman Catholicism and Confucianism: it could be regarded as commending the ‘Vietnamese mandarinal way of life’. Nhu’s ideas were based on the assumption that South Vietnam was not suited to democracy; the peasantry had to be placated; and an agency was required to control government and opposition parties. Membership of the Can Lao was estimated at between 20,000 and 26,000. Diem relied heavily on his brother for guidance.36 Indications of a ‘fascist trend’ in Diem’s circle was not inspiring. Meanwhile it was reported that the Vietcong (this term now replaced ‘Vietminh’ in correspondence) were advancing in Cochin-China and infiltrating the Montagnards. Signs of disaffection could be discerned in the army.37 Cosmo Stewart of the embassy in Saigon met Nhu in June 1958 and commented that Nhu talked incessantly and semi-coherently. Nhu was a curious mixture of a well-bred Annamite and a screen gangster – ‘an interesting combination of a quick-witted but rather naïve thug and introverted intellectual dreamer (this of course can be a very potent concoction in politics)’.38 At the start of 1959, Parkes reflected on developments. Some progress had been made with land reform and resettlement but this was outweighed by negative political features. The regime was despotic, resentment at the influence of Madame Nhu (wife of Ngo Dinh Nhu) had grown and the Can Lao party was a sinister presence. Viscount Lambton, a Conservative MP, described South Vietnam as a ‘police state’ in an article for the London Evening Standard; Parkes would not go this far but Diem’s regime was undoubtedly harsh.39 A few months later he reviewed defence issues. The armed forces required re-equipping with new weapons, vehicles and aircraft. In turn this raised the delicate question of infringement of the ceasefire agreement, approved at Geneva in 1954. E.H. St G. Moss commented ‘The framework of agreement reached at Geneva is beginning to break down and we must think urgently about what is to replace it: obviously the more we can retain the Geneva façade while building up more permanent arrangements behind it, the better.’40 The Foreign Office wrote to the Ministry of Defence on 6 April 1959, asking for guidance on the degree to which articles 16 and 17 of the Geneva ceasefire agreements were still applicable – ‘The point at issue is that these articles place strict limitations on the kind of war material to be imported into Vietnam and on the entry of foreign instructors; and that we think that the Americans and


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Vietnamese are likely soon to wish to throw off these limitations.’41 The Foreign Office believed, correctly, that North Vietnam had violated the Geneva agreements significantly but lacked evidence. The British consulate general in Hanoi was continuing to function and enjoyed moderately good relations with authorities in the DRV. It was requested to obtain information on availability of recent weapons, not available to the Vietminh in 1954, plus evidence of arms imports not controlled by the ICC or of war material exceeding that held in 1954.42 This correspondence revealed the delicacy of Britain’s position as co-chairman of the Geneva conference. The trend in South Vietnam, supported by the United States, was towards rearmament and violation of the Geneva agreements. Britain did not want the settlement to collapse but neither did it wish to antagonise the United States in the post-Suez era. This pointed the way forward to the revelation of ambivalence in British policy. The consul general replied on 8 June 1959 that it was difficult to resolve but some information indicated that Russian ships had unloaded supplies at Haiphong in haste and secrecy (this was based on information supplied by the British vice-consul in Haiphong and a Canadian member of the ICC); also it appeared that the DRV possessed an air force, although it was well concealed.43 Professor Pearn visited various countries in Southeast Asia towards the end of 1959 to assess political and economic progress. He regarded South Vietnam as probably the most disturbing of the states seen. Corruption was bad and worsening. The parallels with Kuomintang (KMT) China in the 1940s were alarming. In the short term the regime could survive but the poverty of its position was clear – ‘The Diem regime lacks mass support; its whole foundation is built on sand.’44 Pearn added that in official quarters mistrust of Britain existed, which was the legacy of Britain’s role in 1954. His analysis was more negative than reports emanating from the ambassador or military attaché in Saigon; in essence, Pearn was right in his assessment. In March 1960, the embassy reported that conditions were deteriorating with growing discontent in the provinces and resentment at the rigging of elections. The most disaffected provinces were not the traditional rebel areas in the Plaine des Joncs and extreme southwest provinces but rather the provinces nearer the capital, Binh Duong, Tay Ninh, Long An and Kien Hoa; that is, provinces to the north and south of Saigon, not far from the capital.45 The embassy did not think that the communists could take over in the near future; if Diem died or suffered assassination, then the army would assume power.46 The Eisenhower administration was approaching the end of its two terms in office in 1960. Eisenhower was popular and was a reasonably


successful president. However, his administration conveyed a weary and exhausted air in 1960. Eisenhower had not been confronted with large questions concerning the American role in Vietnam but his successor would be faced with major decisions. Vice-President Richard Nixon was the leading contender for the Republican nomination. The British ambassador in Washington, Sir Harold Caccia, provided an excellent, succinct definition of Nixon the politician in 1958. ‘He is unencumbered by principle or philosophy. His ambition is unabashed. He will be watching his step very carefully and will be applying a shrewd, if not infallible, political instinct to deciding on the line best calculated in his judgment to win.’47 Eisenhower’s relationship with his vicepresident was often strained but Nixon gained in stature during his eight years in office. His chief rival for the nomination was Governor Nelson Rockefeller of New York but he was perceived as too liberal by many in the party. Nixon was duly nominated and he chose a moderate, Henry Cabot Lodge, close to Eisenhower, as his running mate. The Democrats nominated Senator John F. Kennedy of Massachusetts and he chose a rival, the powerful Senate majority leader, Lyndon B. Johnson of Texas as his vice-presidential candidate. Kennedy had spoken frequently about Vietnam during the 1950s. On 1 June 1956, he participated in a conference organised by the ‘American Friends of Vietnam’, a body comprising a wide range of people including General William J. Donovan, Representative Walter Judd, Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr and Norman Thomas. Kennedy emphasised the importance of Vietnam in ringing terms – ‘Vietnam represents the cornerstone of the Free World in Southeast Asia, the keystone to the arch, the finger in the dyke. Burma, Thailand, India, Japan, the Philippines and obviously Laos and Cambodia are among those whose security would be threatened if the Red Tide of Communism overflowed into Vietnam.’48 Nixon was naturally identified centrally with the policy of Eisenhower’s administration and he equalled Kennedy in his rhetoric. Interestingly General Edward Lansdale, the ‘Quiet American’, noted for his exploits in the Philippines and then in Vietnam, regarded only two presidential candidates as desirable from the viewpoint of the American military and of the regime in South Vietnam – ‘Our only hope will be if it’s a race between Nixon and Johnson. The others all practically want us to deal through the UN on foreign problems and give our shirts away.’49 This underestimated Kennedy who secured the Democratic nomination after a fairly short term in the Senate: he possessed great charm and appeal as a candidate, certainly more than Nixon. The election in November 1960 was remarkably close and was won narrowly by Kennedy.50


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Robert Menzies, the prime minister of Australia, wrote to Harold Macmillan one month after Kennedy’s victory, reporting on a conversation between Dean Acheson, a former secretary of state and Howard Beale, the Australian ambassador in Washington. Acheson said that it was essential that Macmillan established good personal relations with Kennedy ‘and further that he sees a first class chance that you can start off well together and that confidence and intimacy will grow between you’.51 Macmillan needed no encouragement: he had achieved some improvement in Anglo-American relations after Suez and he discerned the opportunity to advance much further with the new president. He welcomed an invitation for his nephew, the Duke of Devonshire (a junior member of his government), to attend Kennedy’s inauguration: he wrote to Kennedy, congratulating him on his admirable inaugural address, which had made ‘a great impression’ on people in Britain who were ‘struck by its content as well as by its form’.52 Macmillan’s enthusiasm pushed British policy towards deeper involvement in American endeavours to sustain South Vietnam. To some extent Britain was becoming more involved already; this was driven by the successful containment of communism in Malaya. In August 1959, several South Vietnamese army officers attended a British jungle school and performed poorly. The head of the US Military Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG) in Saigon, General Samuel T. Williams, told Lansdale that the British leaked reports of the inadequate contribution of the officers concerned and compared them unfavourably with Cambodian officers, which exacerbated reactions in Saigon.53 Lansdale did not welcome British involvement in Vietnam, writing in April 1960 that the British faced different problems in Malaya and he was not happy at the British joining in expenditure of American funds. However, he conceded that lessons could be learned from others in combating communism: foreign experts should be invited to visit Saigon.54 In a subsequent memorandum Lansdale observed that he was aware of unease in the US army over plans to involve the British: American officers doubted the efficacy of relocating people in large villages, since the situation in South Vietnam was different to that in Malaya.55 The problem with the existing American approach, as perceived by the British and some American diplomats, was that it was unduly influenced by experiences during the Second World War. The American ambassador in Saigon, Durbrow, wrote in April 1960 that General Williams was about to retire; Durbrow had supported extensions to Williams’s service in South Vietnam but he possessed growing doubts on the policy of MAAG regarding anti-guerrilla training.56 He reiterated criticism in a memorandum to Williams.57

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What may be termed the ‘Malayan connection’ developed in 1961 and it was associated particularly with the prime minister of Malaya, Tunku Abdul Rahman and R.G.K. Thompson, the former secretary for defence in Malaya. The Tunku’s role was limited but significant. Attitudes towards defence issues were divided in Malaya: many in Malaya viewed Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO) with suspicion or hostility and did not want to become embroiled in wider problems in Southeast Asia. The Tunku personally sympathised with SEATO but he had to respect the weight of opinion in his party. However, he displayed considerable interest in South Vietnam and made clear that he supported efforts to block the advance of communism. This was illustrated in an address delivered by the Tunku on 25 October 1961, following the award of an honorary doctorate in the University of Saigon. He underlined his sympathy for nation building and wished the Republic of Vietnam well in its struggle for survival. Malaya should be capable of providing armoured vehicles, jeeps and surplus arms.58 The Tunku knew and respected Robert (‘Bob’) Thompson who had played an important part in defeating communism in Malaya. Thompson wished to move on from Malaya where the battle had been effectively won and he was fascinated by Vietnam. He believed that his expertise could be deployed with effect in Vietnam if he enjoyed support at a high level. Thompson had served in the Royal Air Force (RAF) during the Second World War: the Foreign Office noted on one occasion that reports describing Thompson as a brigadier appeared from time to time but these were erroneous.59 In 1961, the decision was taken in London to establish a small advisory mission in Saigon, known by its initials as BRIAM (British Advisory Mission).60 It was headed by Thompson and comprised men with experience of fighting the communists in Malaya. The role of BRIAM was to advise on suitable training for South Vietnamese military and police personnel: training was provided in Malaya and Singapore. Thompson made a favourable impression on American politicians and diplomats: Presidents Kennedy and Nixon were among those who met and respected Thompson. The American military, as might be anticipated, viewed British intrusion with less enthusiasm. BRIAM represented an interesting initiative, which contained encouraging and dangerous features for the British government. Macmillan’s aim to secure warmer relations with the Americans was advanced by BRIAM: it was beneficial to see the American president consulting a British official over Vietnam. However, it could be dangerous if it led the Americans to deduce that growing British military involvement could follow from the creation of BRIAM. The British were


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prepared to bend the rules in Vietnam and, in certain respects, to act in ways not compatible with the role of co-chairman of the Geneva conference. But no British government could send British forces to fight in Vietnam. American expectations could be a complication in Thompson’s networking. The Foreign Office sometimes feared that Thompson’s zeal could lead to rash undertakings. Nevertheless BRIAM did more than the embassy to heighten awareness of the British presence and to remind Americans of British achievements in Malaya. The Tunku’s occasional visits to Saigon, endorsement of Thompson’s mission and support for Diem reinforced appreciation of the ‘Malayan connection’. Pessimism developed in British diplomatic circles in the summer and autumn of 1961. Cosmo Stewart wrote to Fred Warner on 10 June that he was moving to the conclusion that the military would assume power eventually. He explained that he was not anticipating ‘a display of lethal fireworks’ by discontented middle-grade officers, as had occurred on 11 November 1960 – ‘What I have in mind ... is a move by a group of senior officers to take over the government of the country in the name of the Armed Forces as a whole.’61 Dissatisfaction in the army was fuelled by resentment arising from poor pay, uncongenial conditions of service and the conduct of counter-insurgency operations. Diem and Nhu were perceived as hindering improvements. Americans did not comprehend the situation and were handicapped by lack of colonial experience. American policy was unpredictable and MAAG was reticent. Stewart did not feel that a military takeover was imminent but coming months would be crucial in determining the outcome. James Cable raised the question as to who would lead a coup. Warner commented: I see the advantages of an army regime but the dangers also are very great. Unless the rebels were able to kill the president and his family in the first 48 hours there would be a danger of a civil war in which the two right wing groups would fight each other while the Communists made all the gains. This is exactly what happened in Laos with such disastrous results ...62 Gloom was confirmed later in 1961. The ambassador, Harry Hohler, stated in September that Vietcong attacks were intensifying and they seemed to possess the capability of launching large-scale operations: he added that his American colleague concurred.63 In October he observed that there was a greater communist threat than there had been in Malaya in the later 1940s and early 1950s: the whole of the Annamite chain was beyond the government’s control and there was a

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significant Vietcong presence in Laos.64 President Kennedy despatched General Maxwell Taylor to provide an appraisal. Taylor visited Saigon and met British and French diplomats before returning to Washington. He told Hohler and Thompson that the predicament of the South Vietnamese army was serious: no satisfactory chain of command existed and military dispositions were inept. Military intelligence was wholly inadequate. Communist forces in Laos constituted a threat to central Vietnam. Taylor mentioned the possibility of sending American troops to Vietnam, although he doubted whether they could be effective. Diem told Hohler that he would welcome the arrival of American troops.65 Taylor next visited Bangkok where he addressed an informal group of SEATO Council representatives. He said that Diem had enough forces to handle the situation. At some point in the future SEATO forces might be needed ‘but in the present stage he was firmly of the opinion that the fighting must be done by indigenous troops’.66 The foreign secretary, the Earl of Home, met the South Vietnamese ambassador, Ngo Dinh Luyen (a brother of Diem) on 2 November. The ambassador criticised the Americans: they meant well but did not fully grasp the nature of the challenges facing them. He did not regard despatch of American troops as offering a solution. Home remarked that Britain would like to assist: the ambassador responded that Britain could align itself with the United States and South Vietnam and the British press could evince sympathy for South Vietnam’s struggle.67 At the beginning of 1962, the Foreign Office prepared an interesting brief for the lord privy seal, Edward Heath. He was about to visit Canada for talks. Vietcong activity was persisting at a high rate, illustrated in a recent road block on the road between Saigon and Dalat. A powerful Chinese military delegation had visited Hanoi. The ICC had accepted arrival of American helicopters calmly and additional deliveries of helicopters were expected. Anglo-American cooperation in Saigon was positive and divergence over tactical priorities had apparently been resolved. However, the struggle was likely to be prolonged –‘There is American and Vietnamese pressure for quick results but Thompson considers that the struggle will last for at least five years.’68 The Foreign Office had welcomed an American assurance that it did not intend to renounce the Geneva agreements – ‘As Co-Chairman Her Majesty’s Government are prepared to turn a blind eye to American activities. They support the United States contention that the North have been guilty of systematic violations of the Geneva settlement.’69 The British aim should be ‘to divert international attention from, and not focus it upon, our actions in Vietnam while we get on with the task


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of defeating the Viet Cong’.70 The ‘blind eye’ meant that Britain was moving away from Anthony Eden’s approach in fulfilment of Harold Macmillan’s determination to secure a close working relationship with the Kennedy administration. The ‘blind eye’ appeared again in correspondence between Hohler and Edward Peck in February 1962. Hohler drew attention to American failure to consult Britain before announcing the appointment of General Harkins as American commander: he wondered if this resulted from the frequent British reference to the role as co-chairman, ‘our almost Pavlovian reaction’.71 Hohler commented that it was difficult to achieve full mutual confidence because of divergent approaches to China. He remarked of the American military that top commanders tended to be as reticent towards their allies as their junior officers were indiscreet. He welcomed the fact that the British press was displaying little interest in Vietnam and that visiting journalists ‘have been mercifully few and far between of late’.72 The South Vietnamese were extremely sensitive and maladroit in handling the press. Ted Peck replied that the State Department and the Pentagon disagreed over the announcement of the appointment of Harkins. The Kennedy administration had its own Pavlovian reaction of ‘act first and tell the British second’.73 Peck did not regard Britain’s role as co-chairman as an obstacle – ‘The Secretary of State has personally assured Mr. Rusk that he will turn a blind eye to what goes on and we have been busily doing so.’74 Britain wished to prevent ICC condemnation of the United States and South Vietnam, unaccompanied by condemnation of the DRV, or collapse of the ICC, leading to a demand for reconvening the Geneva conference. The bombing of Diem’s palace by rebel air force officers on 27 February 1962 confirmed the image of instability in Saigon. Robert Thompson wrote that the bombing had occurred very near the British embassy and ‘The whole incident is obviously a tremendous blow both internally and externally to the prestige of the regime ... .’75 Thompson was unhappy with the perverted application of ‘strategic hamlets’ as interpreted by Diem’s brother Nhu. Hohler wrote that Nhu viewed strategic hamlets as a means of controlling the peasantry. Nhu’s attitude resembled that shown by the KMT regime towards the Chinese peasantry in the 1940s. Nhu and his cronies ‘seem to be preparing an unhappy and ineffective authoritarianism which is likely to fall an easy victim to a communist takeover’.76 The creation of ‘defended localities’ bore no relation to the strategy implemented in Malaya ‘and should certainly not be laid at the door of BRIAM’.77 The Foreign Office feared that blame would be assigned to BRIAM.78

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Harold Macmillan visited Washington in April 1962. During his visit British and American officials reviewed developments in Vietnam. Dean Rusk expressed appreciation for British help, particularly with the Thompson mission. Rusk hoped that further assistance would be forthcoming from Australia, New Zealand and Malaya. McGeorge Bundy ‘emphasised the importance that President Kennedy saw in making the Western effort in Vietnam more international and avoiding the appearance of a purely American enterprise’.79 Clearly the Americans would have welcomed greater British involvement. At the end of May 1962, the Foreign Office submitted a note to the Soviet government, drawing attention to a recent report by the ICC. Britain supported the conclusion that North Vietnam had violated articles 10, 19, 24 and 27 of the ceasefire agreements in specific instances. The ICC report confirmed that the DRV had sent armed and unarmed personnel, munitions and other supplies into South Vietnam with the intention of fulfilling aggressive activities including armed attacks. The Foreign Office noted that criticism of the DRV dated from 1 February 1959; denials from Hanoi were dismissed. The British argued that President Kennedy had extended aid to South Vietnam for defensive purposes and that American assistance would cease if the communist states ceased assisting North Vietnam.80 Robert Thompson figured more prominently in Anglo-American discussions in Saigon and, on occasions, in Washington. In September 1962, he produced a report summarising the outcome of a meeting with Generals Maxwell Taylor and Paul Harkins. The Americans invited Thompson to state his assessment of progress in Vietnam. Thompson replied that he was moderately optimistic but substantial progress would take at least three years. Taylor inquired about intelligence and Thompson indicated that progress was disappointing. Harkins expressed anxiety over the situation in Laos but Taylor said that he was broadly satisfied and hoped that despatch of American troops to Laos could be avoided. Thompson raised the possibility of a symbolic withdrawal of American personnel in 1963, which would be useful in the context of the ICC. Thompson thought it unlikely that a significant communist rebellion would occur in Thailand.81 The British media began to focus attention on Vietnam in the latter part of 1962. Officials in the Foreign Office debated the merits of a BBC Panorama programme presented by James Mossman on 3 December 1962. Warner described it as ‘no better than I had feared’.82 F. MacGinnis was less critical, observing that the programme brought out the fact that a war was being waged and the only alternative to the Diem regime was communism. He added a backhanded compliment – ‘Certainly it


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was nothing like as bad as some of the Panorama efforts to which we have taken exception in the past. In all the circumstances and given the past history of dealing with Panorama, I am sure that any approach to them would be unrewarding.’83 Paradoxically the British consul general in Hanoi stated, in his annual report for 1962, that Britain’s relations with the DRV had, if anything, improved, despite British support for Diem. He and his family enjoyed more freedom to travel within North Vietnam than his predecessor. Relations with Britain were necessarily delicate but ‘I see no reason to disbelieve officials of this Government when they tell me that they hope for improved relations with the United Kingdom. It is clearly in the interest of their own independence (of both China and the USSR) – which they prize more than their communist ideology – to keep some lines open to the West.’84 In the course of the year 1963, the political dilemmas in South Vietnam intensified. Corruption, ineptitude, maladministration, harsh repression came to be identified more closely with Diem’s government. Disquieting reports on the activities of Diem’s relatives, particularly concerning Nhu and Madame Nhu, worried the Foreign Office. A Buddhist campaign against Diem acted as a catalyst in the summer of 1963. Plotting within the army intensified, sometimes with American encouragement. The Vietcong demonstrated a capacity to act with impunity near and within Saigon. All of these factors stimulated debate as to whether it would be in the interest of the anti-communist struggle for Diem to depart. The new apostolic delegate in Saigon told the British ambassador on 11 June ‘that the atmosphere in Saigon reminded him of Italy during the last days of the Mussolini regime’ and he felt that a military coup was probable. The ambassador added ‘Monseigneur d’Asta has not been here very long and does not yet appreciate the difficulties which any potential opposition to Diem would encounter in trying to organise a coup’.85 The apostolic delegate was more perceptive than the ambassador. Meanwhile Kenneth Blackwell, the consul general in Hanoi, reflected on what would be best for the future of Vietnam. This comprised a combination of economic and social reform, free elections at all levels, independence and neutrality, greater equality and a certain measure of socialism. The regime in Saigon should be replaced, possibly by exiles dwelling in Paris. Blackwell remarked on the irony of Britain condoning division in Vietnam whereas in Germany and Korea unification was recommended, to be achieved peacefully through democratic elections. He regarded British policy towards Vietnam as too negative and defensive.86 Harry Hohler discussed the issues with the customary freedom assigned to an ambassador in a valedictory despatch sent on 6 July

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1963. Since his arrival in March 1960 the military situation had deteriorated steadily. At the same time Britain was involved more deeply because of BRIAM and the part played by Robert Thompson. BRIAM contributed usefully but the conspicuous problems were political incompetence and corruption: the Nhus illustrated the ubiquity of corruption. Nhu had emerged as a major political personality and Diem relied more heavily on him. Some of the Americans sent to Vietnam worked industriously and with enthusiasm. The previous American ambassador (Durbrow) alienated Diem by his frankness and the current ambassador (Nolting) was too weak. Neither was strong enough to control the various American agencies active in Saigon. An ambassador with political expertise was required and this probably explained the decision to appoint Henry Cabot Lodge. Hohler concluded that the immediate threats came from the crisis in Laos and from Buddhist agitation against Diem. The Buddhist challenge was mishandled by Diem and the repercussions could be serious.87 The situation was more dangerous than that depicted by Hohler. Diem’s enemies were growing in number and were becoming formidable. His American supporters were now divided and some were transferring to the enemy camp. Here the arrival of Cabot Lodge was important. He was appointed because the storm clouds were gathering and Kennedy decided that it would be advisable to have a prominent Republican in post in Saigon. Kennedy had defeated Cabot Lodge to take his Senate seat in 1952; Lodge then served in the Eisenhower administration, notably as delegate to the UN before accepting the vice-presidential nomination in 1960. He was still involved deeply in American domestic politics and Eisenhower wanted him to seek the Republican presidential nomination in 1964. Lodge believed in keeping his options open and he was prepared to serve as ambassador in Saigon for a limited period. This would strengthen his patriotic appeal and permit him to reflect on American politics from a suitable distance. Lodge knew that matters were coming to a head in Saigon and he intended to act decisively.88 One disturbing feature was the increasing influence exerted by Ngo Dinh Nhu; it was rumoured that he was contemplating reaching an accommodation with the DRV. Nhu used the strategic hamlets programme, supported by BRIAM, for ulterior reasons to expand his own power. On occasions, during meetings with diplomats or foreign visitors Nhu referred to his contacts with emissaries from Hanoi. He defined them as the ‘Dien Bien Phu generation’, those who were genuine nationalists first and communists second. When Nhu met Lord Selkirk, the British commissioner-general in Southeast Asia, on 10 August 1963


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he said certain of his contacts in the DRV had met him in the very office in which he was meeting Selkirk. These men wanted unification in Vietnam and agreed that the strategic hamlets programme offered means of attaining this objective. Ironically Nhu dismissed Buddhist agitators as left-wingers with communist connections.89 Nhu’s allusion to contacts in North Vietnam fuelled speculation as to whether such contacts belonged to the real world or the realms of fantasy. British officials tended towards the latter interpretation.90 In September Nhu held a three-hour press conference in which he advocated a drastic reduction in the size of the army, leaving the task of defence to a local militia of 700,000, based on the Combatant Youth. When questioned on General de Gaulle’s observations regarding the future of Vietnam, Nhu replied that the formation of a coalition government with the DRV was complex and not at present feasible. The British ambassador (now Etherington-Smith) commented that speculation persisted that Nhu wished to terminate the presence of American military advisers in the field and to strengthen his own power base within the provinces. Nhu denied allegations that he wished to replace Diem; he also denied controlling the secret police.91 Rumours of impending coups proliferated and concentrated attention at the top of the British government. The foreign secretary, Lord Home, minuted early in September: I think we ought to lie fairly low. The Diem regime is not good but it is no use pushing it out if there is no alternative which there isn’t. I remember very well the political role of the Buddhist monks in Ceylon and think it very likely that in S. Vietnam a number of them are disloyal and corrupt.92 The prime minister, Harold Macmillan, commented wearily on 10 September ‘I agree with the Foreign Office line. With so many other troubles in the world we had better keep out of the Saigon one.’93 Therefore Britain would not play a prominent part in the escalating crisis. De Gaulle favoured a negotiated solution: French policy was directed at keeping Nhu in power in the hope that he could utilise his contacts in the DRV so as to secure a ceasefire, followed by a modus vivendi with Hanoi.94 American policy was unclear but American alarm at Diem’s maladroit handling of the Buddhist campaign, plus deep anxiety at Nhu’s intentions, were, on balance, pointing to the removal of Diem and Nhu – in the words of the grim joke circulating among journalists ‘no Nhus is good news’. President Kennedy wished to keep his


options open for as long as possible: he appreciated the delicacy of the predicament and he did not want Diem and Nhu subjected to violence or execution.95 In September–October 1963, differences between the British embassy and BRIAM grew over the fate of Diem’s regime: the former tended to favour removal of Diem and the latter preferred retention. In a despatch sent on 26 September 1963, Etherington-Smith argued that Diem should be removed, although he felt that Britain should confine its role to extending ‘sound advice’ to the United States. Rumours of an impending CIA-inspired coup were common. Nhu might be genuine in underlining his contacts with the DRV but he could also be attempting to blackmail the Americans. Nhu could be contemplating a deal with Hanoi whereby South Vietnam would be a neutralised state – ‘Nhu might be tempted to take such a course if he felt himself to be directly threatened by American policies and ... he is sufficiently confident of himself to think he can ride the Communist tiger.’96 Warner wrote that the despatch represented an important change in direction, since the embassy had previously supported retention of Diem: he added that British interest in Vietnam was slight and British officials should steer clear of involvement in coups.97 Peck commented that he had urged Etherington-Smith to be prudent in the light of experience in Indonesia and to destroy ‘correspondence liable to misconstruction’.98 Caccia concurred.99 Lord Home repeated his cautionary approach – ‘I am very doubtful. Let the Americans play their hand if they like. I think any successor government might easily be worse.’100 Robert Thompson still advocated supporting Diem. He wrote to Peck on 30 October that the Americans were divided over supporting a coup: he believed that Diem should remain in office on the grounds that his regime was not as bad as sometimes depicted. Defeating communism was a ruthless and dirty task as the British had learned in Malaya: if the Americans endorsed removal of Diem, it could lead to failure in Vietnam.101 It was already too late for speculation: Cabot Lodge and his key advisers determined to replace Diem rapidly. Kennedy was reluctant to give final approval but plotting within the South Vietnamese army had reached the stage where delay was impossible. Reports of a coup reached London and Peck sent succinct instructions to the embassy in Saigon: ‘Our thoughts are with you all. Keep the wireless going, the papers burnt and the Embassy intact. Good luck.’102 Diem and Nhu were detained by the military plotters and killed. The bodies were viewed by Smith of the British Council staff who was married to Diem’s niece – ‘Both had been shot in the back of the neck. This disposes of the suicide story but


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I suggest that it is not in the general interest that these details should be released.’103 The deaths of Diem and Nhu were regretted in Washington and London. However, the real dilemma was that there was no evidence that the new regime would improve on the record of its predecessor. The British ambassador met General Minh on 13 November and congratulated him upon assuming power. Minh welcomed British recognition, adding that Diem had to be removed to improve prosecution of the war.104 Etherington-Smith analysed the coup in terms of the main groups being the generals, middle ranking and junior officers and a group comprising professional men, intellectuals, trade unionists and some service officers. The principal generals, Duong Van Minh, Tran Van Dong and Le Van Kim, had enjoyed distinguished careers; they were motivated by detestation of Diem and Nhu and not least the latter’s attempt to develop an independent power base.105 The new government was unable to establish its authority and the demise of Diem marked the onset of chronic instability plus growing activity by the Vietcong. R.A. Butler accepted the Foreign Office when Home outmanoeuvred him (and others) to succeed Macmillan as prime minister in October 1963. Butler was thrust rapidly into the confusion of Vietnam. He initialled a long telegram to Saigon on 12 December in which sympathy was expressed for the challenges facing Cabot Lodge. Butler agreed that the Americans should not try to take over direction of the war against the communists: ‘I realize that any attempt to do so might only mean repeating the mistake made by the French and probably with the same results.’106 The all-too familiar theme that Britain had a vital role to play as co-chairman of the Geneva conference was reiterated; Britain could not jeopardise its obligations through becoming involved too intimately in military matters. Thompson should make clear that advice given by him was forwarded in a personal capacity.107 Thompson’s position was clearly becoming an embarrassment. Harold Macmillan regarded BRIAM as a means of securing closer relations with John F. Kennedy. Now both of these key figures had departed. Macmillan resigned on grounds of ill-health in October 1963 and Kennedy was brutally assassinated in Dallas (Texas) on 22 November 1963. The warm personal relations achieved by the former leaders were not evident with their successors. Lord Home (who then gave up his title and reverted to sitting in the House of Commons as Sir Alec Douglas-Home) did not establish a cordial relationship with President Lyndon B. Johnson and the same applied to Home’s Labour successor, Harold Wilson. The dangers of allowing ‘Bob’ Thompson to advance British opinions freely


were obvious. As matters deteriorated in South Vietnam, the British had to move nimbly to avert the peril of committing forces to intervention in Vietnam. Thompson reported gloomily in a letter to Peck, sent on 19 December. The strategic hamlets programme had not been implemented effectively: it had been applied too quickly and without sufficient understanding of the concept. The situation in the delta had worsened markedly and the Vietcong had made significant advances. Reverses had occurred in the Montagnard areas, exacerbated by Nhu’s anti-American policy. Thompson believed that decline was not irreversible but it would be a lengthy struggle: ‘I personally do not think that we can see daylight for at least two years and, after that, it may take perhaps to the end of the decade before real peace can be restored.’108 He referred positively to Cabot Lodge’s contribution. Thompson did not think that deployment of American troops could secure victory and he endorsed Lodge’s opinion that American assumption of directing the war was not feasible. He concluded that while the conflict could be won, the odds were against. T.J. Everard of the Foreign Office minuted that deployment of American troops was ‘something which we wish to avoid, even at the risk of seeing the Viet Cong continue to gain victories against the Government troops’.109 As the New Year dawned, it was clear that the year 1964 would be a vital period in determining the fate of Vietnam. A presidential election would take place in the United States and this would commit Johnson against a yet unknown Republican opponent. Bitter divisions between the moderate and conservative wings of the Republican party indicated that the choice of candidate would be embedded in acrimony from which LBJ would benefit. Eisenhower encouraged Cabot Lodge to run: the ambassador kept one eye on intrigue in Saigon and the other on intrigue in the Republican party. A split in the British approach to Vietnam developed between BRIAM and the Foreign Office. Thompson wished to expand the role of BRIAM: in January 1964 he proposed visiting Burma, Laos and Thailand with the possible addition of Cambodia ‘ostensibly visiting Angkor Wat’.110 He regarded the struggle in Southeast Asia as essentially ‘the battle for Singapore’.111 Notwithstanding his earlier reservations concerning the extent of American involvement in Vietnam, Thompson moved towards the view that Britain should fully support the United States. The Johnson administration was now committed and could not retreat. South Vietnam could survive for years with enormous American support. If matters deteriorated further, would Britain acquiesce in an American decision to escalate? The Geneva agreements of 1954 should be acknowledged as the ‘farce’ they


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were. SEATO could become involved in assisting South Vietnam, which would connote ‘token but joint allied support’ for the United States.112 His dismissive reference to Geneva touched a raw nerve and alienated James Cable. He expressed fundamental disagreement in a minute drafted on 25 April 1964. Thompson was exaggerating the importance of Vietnam ‘and, if we had our way in 1954, it would have been written off as politically untenable as being exposed to elections under international supervision’.113 American prestige was at stake in Southeast Asia: if another coup occurred in Saigon, the United States would be faced with the choice between a negotiated solution or transforming South Vietnam into an American colony. Cable noted that the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) had concluded that Britain should not support escalation, as this would be futile. SEATO should not be involved in Vietnam because it could encourage American military action and nuclear brinkmanship. Cable described Thompson’s views as dangerous and he recommended that the Foreign Office should ‘gently discourage’ him from pursuing his ideas further. The JIC concluded, in February 1964, that the Vietcong were largely self-sufficient in men and material; infiltration of cadres and arms between Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos could not be stopped. If the United States used military action against North Vietnam, then China could intervene substantially through supplying ‘volunteers’ and air cover; furthermore, China could increase aid for the Pathet Lao in Laos and encourage subversion elsewhere. Criticism of the United States would be voiced in the UN. A limited non-nuclear war in Vietnam would probably be lengthy and indecisive: Indonesian confrontation with Malaysia could be stimulated and this would engender grave strains within SEATO.114 In March 1964, Cable emphasised the importance of clarity in communications with Washington. The prime minister had expressed support for American policy in a communiqué issued at the end of a visit to Washington in February, Cable wrote to Etherington-Smith that it was imperative that the Johnson administration appreciated that confirmation of British support applied to ‘the original defensive policy and [did] not constitute any implied commitment to support a new offensive strategy’.115 Cable added that the Foreign Office was influenced by recollections of the dispute between Dulles and Eden over Indochina in April 1954: the consequences had been serious and it was essential to avoid repetition. On 24 June, it was announced that Cabot Lodge was leaving Saigon to take part in preparations for the Republican party’s convention in San Francisco. General Maxwell Taylor was appointed to succeed him. Etherington-Smith commented that while Lodge had


been cordial, he had not always been candid.116 Overall Lodge had been insufficiently decisive. In his farewell statement Lodge said that he was returning to the United States to assist Governor William Scranton of Pennsylvania to gain the Republican nomination. Pauline NevilleJones remarked that Lodge enjoyed the reputation of always ‘running for office’. When he was delegate to the UN, he vacillated and he was ‘of no great intellectual stature’.117 In early August the notorious Gulf of Tonkin incident occurred in which American vessels were involved (or allegedly involved) in clashes with North Vietnamese vessels. President Johnson used the crisis to strengthen the power of the executive through obtaining approval from Congress in a joint resolution from which only two Democratic senators dissented (Ernest Gruening of Alaska and Wayne Morse of Oregon). Kenneth Blackwell, the British representative in Hanoi, reported that, as interpreted in Hanoi, ‘the only plausible explanation of the incident seems to be that it was a deliberate attempt by the Americans to provoke the North Vietnamese into hostile reaction’ so as to justify American retaliation. The presence of American ships in waters adjacent to the DRV had encouraged speculation that such an incident could occur.118 Britain at once offered support to the White House, Douglas-Home informing the president that ‘These are anxious days for you and I shall follow with great sympathy your efforts to stop this aggression without embarking on a war the consequences of which none can forsee.’119 In the short term Lyndon Johnson emerged in a stronger position: he conveyed strength and tenacity in the election campaign and he appeared restrained in comparison with his right-wing Republican opponent, Senator Barry Goldwater of Arizona. The latter defeated Governor Nelson Rockefeller in the primaries and he was nominated despite the endeavours of Scranton and Lodge to stop him. The British ambassador in Washington, Lord Harlech, described Goldwater’s nomination as disastrous: the Republican candidate was not sympathetic to Britain – ‘The men he admires are Adenauer, de Gaulle and Strauss.’120 Denis Greenhill, as charge d’affaires, commented in August 1964 that Goldwater was honest and modest but he was supported by some sinister right-wing groups. The majority of Americans supported Johnson on foreign issues but ‘A collapse in South-East Asia or a flare-up in Cuba could hurt President Johnson badly.’121 As it turned out, Johnson presented a statesmanlike image, eschewing extremism, while Goldwater appeared to represent a mixture of naivete and belligerence. British officials forecast accurately that Goldwater would go down to a heavy defeat in November 1964.


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A change of government took place in Britain in October 1964. Sir Alec Douglas-Home performed better than expected in the general election but the Labour party, led by Harold Wilson, won narrowly. There were numerous critics of American policy among Labour MPs but Wilson ensured that senior posts relating to foreign policy and defence were held by right-wingers sympathetic to Washington. Patrick Gordon Walker served briefly as foreign secretary and he was succeeded by Michael Stewart; Denis Healey became minister of defence.122 Wilson intended to play a central role and he aimed to achieve a good working relationship with Lyndon Johnson. Wilson was to be disappointed. Johnson was a combination of the brooding and domineering. He was a brilliant politician and an outstanding Senate majority leader in the 1950s.123 Johnson wanted to be a great reforming president: he was inspired by the precedent of Franklin Roosevelt. He wished to eliminate poverty in the United States and transform civil rights. These were noble aims but the tragedy of his presidency was that LBJ was ever more deeply caught in the morass of Vietnam, which he did not fundamentally comprehend and to which he had no satisfactory answer. He wanted allies who would endorse his policy, preferably with willingness to commit forces in support of American leadership. Wilson appreciated that the vulnerability of the British economy and the confrontation with Indonesia over Malaysia necessitated close cooperation with Washington. He also knew that the pressure on the British defence budget and the views of the British people, reinforced by the opinions of his own backbenchers, meant that extreme caution was required. Wilson travelled to the United States in December 1964. He met the president on 7 December and expressed his gratitude for American assistance in dealing with British economic problems. Johnson stated that he desired ‘the closest and most intense constant relations over the whole economic field with HMG’.124 Wilson explained his difficulties in running the government with only a tenuous majority in the House of Commons. He sought to reassure the president that he would not be ‘pushed around by his own people on defence matters’.125 Wilson was surprised at the vehemence of Johnson’s opinions concerning Germany: these were ‘much worse than anything on the Labour back-benches’.126 Wilson felt it was essential to restore trust with the Johnson administration: relations with the preceding Conservative government were strained because of differences over trade with Cuba. On 8 December, Wilson and Gordon Walker met Dean Rusk for discussions in the White House. Rusk emphasised the need to deal firmly with North Vietnam: he regretted the fact that more states were establishing diplomatic relations with Peking and that these

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states had not criticised Chinese policy in Southeast Asia. Rusk added that the United States had 21,000 military personnel stationed in South Vietnam.127 He stressed that America needed increasing support from its allies and this certainly applied to Britain. Gordon Walker responded that the British commitment in Malaysia must be acknowledged: 8,000 British troops were deployed in Borneo and a total of 20,000 deployed in Malaysia. ‘The United Kingdom commitment was comparable to the United States in Vietnam. But he was emphatic that the United Kingdom could not have troops on the ground in Vietnam.’128 However, Britain could build further on the assistance extended by BRIAM: this would comprise training more men in jungle warfare, sending more police advisers to Saigon and cooperating further in the medical sphere. Britain’s role as co-chairman of the Geneva conference was potentially important. Wilson and Gordon Walker underlined their sympathy for the Johnson administration: Wilson commented on the anxiety reflected in parliamentary questions regarding American military involvement in Vietnam.129 It was clear that Wilson wanted warm relations with Washington but Johnson regarded Wilson with some suspicion. In addition to friction over Vietnam, some strain occurred over arrangements for the funeral of Sir Winston Churchill in January 1965. To the end Churchill remained a potent personification of AngloAmerican friendship during the darkest days of the twentieth century. When Churchill died Johnson was suffering from a heavy cold: given his history of heart trouble, his doctors were not keen on his flying to London. The CIA was worried at the danger of assassination. Delay and confusion prevailed as to who would represent the United States while Johnson vacillated as to whether he should attend. Eventually it was decided that the American government would be represented by Chief Justice Earl Warren, Dean Rusk, the secretary of state, and David Bruce, the ambassador in London. Warren was an eminent man, an outstanding chief justice of liberal views, three times elected governor of California and the Republican vice-presidential candidate in 1948. However, he was not widely known in Britain, as he had not been involved much in foreign affairs (but he had attended the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in June 1953 on behalf of the American government). John Ramsden has discussed the controversy in his study of Churchill. Johnson’s reluctance to attend caused criticism in the United States and Britain: according to Ramsden, one irate American admirer of Churchill, living in New York, sent a telegram to Harry Truman urging him to attend but Truman’s health was too precarious.130 Dwight Eisenhower attended in a personal capacity.


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Intense pressure to restrict defence expenditure reinforced British determination not to be committed in Vietnam. James Callaghan, the chancellor of the exchequer, wrote to Denis Healey, the minister of defence, on 31 December 1964, stating that defence expenditure must be held at the figure of £2,000 million (at 1964 prices) for the next five years.131 Knowledge of Britain’s economic problems and responsibilities towards Malaysia did not mollify Johnson. His annoyance was illustrated in the notorious telephone conversation between Wilson and LBJ during the night of 10 February 1965. Wilson telephoned to reiterate his predicament in coping with a small parliamentary majority and critical backbenchers. Wilson wanted to meet Johnson as soon as possible, partly to discuss the challenges in Vietnam and Malaysia. Johnson resented Wilson’s approach: I won’t tell you how to run Malaysia and you don’t tell me how to run Vietnam ... If you want to help us some in Vietnam send us some men and send us some folks to deal with these guerrillas. And announce to the Press that you are going to help us. Now if you don’t feel like doing that go on with your Malaysian problem.132 Johnson was confronted with having to take a fundamental decision concerning escalation in Vietnam. He did not desire escalation but he felt he could not appear weak and expose his administration to Republican censure in Congress analogous to that experienced by the Truman administration during the Korean War. Johnson and his close advisers believed that selective bombing of North Vietnam could compel negotiations and that a solution including the maintenance of South Vietnam could be achieved. Operation ‘Rolling Thunder’ commenced on 2 March 1965. It led to growing apprehension in Britain. LBJ’s close aide, McGeorge Bundy, drafted a memorandum commenting on discussions between Rusk and Michael Stewart in March 1965. Bundy remarked that Wilson had done great damage to himself with his ‘outrageous phone call’ to Johnson.133 Bundy felt that limited concessions should be made to Wilson, amounting to a pledge of continued consultation, not because he liked Wilson but because of the difficulty Wilson might otherwise create. Bundy feared that Wilson could be as awkward to deal with as the Canadian prime minister, John Diefenbaker. Wilson visited Washington again in April 1965; he attended an official luncheon and expressed general support for American policy, despite disapproval expressed by left-wing Labour MPs.134 Johnson continued to brood on British refusal to go further in supporting his policy towards Vietnam.

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At the beginning of June Bundy reminded him of the positive aspects of encouraging Wilson. He wrote that he was well aware of Johnson’s grievances against Douglas-Home and Wilson but it was important not to antagonise the British. David Bruce, a highly experienced ambassador, was astonished ‘by the overall strength and skill of Wilson’s defense of our policy in Vietnam and his mastery of his own left wing in the process’.135 British support, limited though it was, was valuable ‘and perhaps of even more value in limiting the howls of our own liberals’.136 Bundy recommended consulting the British regularly: nothing would be gained by evasion. It was all the more important given the continuation of the large-scale American military build-up in Vietnam, with the taking of decisions for further escalation in July 1965: approximately 70,000 American troops were present in Vietnam and expansion to a total of 175,000 was planned by the end of 1965. Wilson worked to prevent escalation and encouraged an initiative by Commonwealth prime ministers; he assured Bruce that he would not endorse any arrangement unacceptable to the Johnson administration.137 Thus the pattern for Anglo-American exchanges over Vietnam was established for the rest of the Johnson administration and into the Nixon administration in 1969: American pressure for British involvement and Britain’s refusal to contemplate action which could lead to commitment of British forces. A number of countries including Australia and New Zealand despatched troops to Vietnam, although Western forces were overwhelmingly American. During the decade 1955–65, British policy towards the Republic of Vietnam was marked by cynicism and ambivalence. Vociferous support came from BRIAM, inspired by Robert Thompson. The Foreign Office was less enthusiastic, and this was reflected in the assessments of James Cable. Thompson became a man with a mission and it is hard to escape the conclusion that he was carried along by a spirit of excessive optimism, fuelled by his past achievements in Malaya and the interest in his ideas shown by Americans in high office, including successive presidents. Cable’s approach was shaped by his experience in Geneva in 1954: South Vietnam was of peripheral significance and it was more important to bolster the rest of Southeast Asia. Against the odds South Vietnam survived its traumatic birth amidst the wreckage of French colonialism. The United States sponsored the infant state and helped Ngo Dinh Diem establish his power base. Anthony Eden was wary of going too far because of his intimate involvement in delicate exchanges with the communist states during the Geneva conference and because of his personal identification with the Geneva accords. Harold Macmillan was determined


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to strengthen Anglo-American relations and he was willing to modify Britain’s commitment to the Geneva agreements. Macmillan wanted a close working relationship with John F. Kennedy and BRIAM featured helpfully in his designs. But how far should Britain go? Ministers, officials and the chiefs of staff opposed sending British forces to Vietnam. The problems affecting the economy, confrontation with Indonesia and commitments elsewhere, plus the fact that Vietnam was not vital to British interests, meant that Sir Alec Douglas-Home and Harold Wilson drew back, whatever the consequences. A cooling in Anglo-American relations following the assassination of President Kennedy was unavoidable. Lyndon Johnson lacked expertise in foreign affairs: he was an able man but lacked the subtlety and charm of his predecessor. Harold Wilson was the master of balance, evasion and short-term tactics: he was a brilliant tactician without a strategy (‘a week in politics is a long time’). Wilson’s policy towards the worsening crisis in Vietnam exemplified the strengths and weaknesses of his policy. In November 1964, it looked as though Johnson could outlast Wilson at the top but the reverse occurred. Johnson gave up his ambition of a second term and retired in January 1969, sick and embittered. Wilson lost the general election in 1970 but won the next two elections in 1974. He then amazed most people by resigning as prime minister and retiring in 1976. Johnson was a prominent victim of the Vietnam War while Wilson survived.

6 Britain, Cambodia and Laos, 1955–65

During the Geneva conference in 1954 Anthony Eden and his officials concluded that the best outcome for Cambodia and Laos would be designation as a neutral buffer zone, to be accepted tacitly by the Western and communist states. Eden thought it unlikely that Cambodia or Laos could become viable states integrated within the Western sphere: furthermore, it would be dangerous to attempt to establish such control because it could precipitate a communist takeover. One method of bolstering their independence was to encourage Indian interest, thus reviving the old cultural influence deriving historically from India. Subsequent developments showed that Eden was correct in his analysis. His preference was doomed by a combination of American adventurism and communist retaliation. During the exchanges in Geneva Chou En-lai indicated that China would cooperate if the Western powers accepted the aim of neutrality and refrained from interfering in the internal affairs of Cambodia and Laos. Of course, China could not control the policy of North Vietnam and the latter, while desiring Chinese aid, had no intention of accepting Chinese domination. The aims of indigenous communist movements in Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos clashed in 1954 with the wishes of the Soviet Union and China for compromise at Geneva. However, the vital factor contributing to deterioration was American rejection of neutrality for Cambodia and Laos. Prince Sihanouk, the charismatic, mercurial Cambodian leader, spoke frankly in September 1965 to Malcolm MacDonald. He described the Americans as very ‘immature’ and inexperienced in international affairs: they lacked diplomatic expertise and were too abrasive in their dealings with the peoples of Southeast Asia.1 The war in Vietnam could not be won by the United States: it would continue for years and would prove to be bloody and futile. MacDonald showed some sympathy: he was a 158


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former cabinet minister and had gained experience in working under his father (Ramsay MacDonald), Stanley Baldwin, Neville Chamberlain and, briefly, Winston Churchill. He advised the Foreign Office against showing his full report to American officials: they would be annoyed at Sihanouk’s observations ‘especially as they are a bit immature!’.2 The Churchill, Eden and Macmillan governments were faced with the intransigence of the Eisenhower administration, which regarded suggestions of compromise with communist states as shocking. A further complication arose from the activities of diverse American agencies, some engaged in clandestine activities running counter to the British preference for fostering stability. The Kennedy administration was a marked improvement on its predecessor but Kennedy, too, encountered the pressures exerted by intelligence bodies, not to mention rabid rightwing Democrats and Republicans.

Cambodia Sihanouk succeeded to the throne of Cambodia in 1941 at the age of 18. He possessed considerable political flair, weakened by impetuosity. His desire to play an active role in politics led to his decision to abdicate in favour of his father in March 1955. He enjoyed genuine popularity in consequence of his determination to end French colonialism and assert the importance of his small country. He headed his own political party and acted with much freedom as a prince until effectively reoccupying the throne after his father’s death in 1960. The British minister in Phnom Penh, R.P. Heppel, stated in his annual report for 1954 that Sihanouk had enjoyed a successful year and had adroitly negotiated the dangerous challenges facing him. Sihanouk faced opposition in the north of Cambodia from Son Ngoc Thanh, a former prime minister who had collaborated with the Japanese and later broke with Sihanouk. Heppel remarked that Cambodia was now recognised as significant within Southeast Asia – ‘its economic prosperity became a matter of close interest not only to France and the United States but also to numerous members of the Colombo Plan, particularly Australia, New Zealand and Canada’.3 Sihanouk wished to establish true independence through pursuing a balanced foreign policy while consolidating his grasp internally by building on the monarchy’s popularity with the peasantry to outmanoeuvre left-wing intellectuals and right-wing rivals. Sihanouk attended the Bandung conference, in April 1955, and this strengthened his inclination towards nonalignment. The Foreign Office regarded him as pro-British, resolutely anti-communist and probably the best

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prospect for achieving stability in his country. The British representative in Phnom Penh reported in September 1955 that Sihanouk’s party should triumph in coming elections, although it was regrettable that his party ‘has employed methods which would be unacceptable in Europe west of the Iron Curtain but which are probably unavoidable here given the traditional electoral practices and the political vacuum created by the ignorance and inexperience of both voters and candidates’.4 The Foreign Office felt that Sihanouk required guidance from an outside power: while Britain could give discreet advice it would be best if an Asian power could fulfil this role. There was only one contender – India. Denis Allen wrote on 19 May 1955: The value of an Indian involvement in Cambodia in protecting that country from further communist adventures is great. Even though India could not provide any direct help in case of attack her known interest might deter any potential communist aggressor – and, if it does not, would certainly bring the Indian Government a great deal nearer to SEATO. We should not therefore take too jaundiced a view of a deliberate Cambodian move towards neutralism, so long as this does not mean an acceptance of communism and so long as it is paralleled by an increased Indian commitment in the country.5 Allen noted that India had offered technical assistance to Cambodia. Nehru visited Cambodia and revealed interest in advancing its independence. The Foreign Office hoped that Cambodia and Burma could constitute a cordon sanitaire between China and the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (DRV) on one side and Thailand and Malaya on the other side. If communist movements endeavoured to secure control of Cambodia, this could persuade India to regard the communist menace more seriously and to view SEATO more favourably. One problem was that the United States would not relish an increase in Indian influence and American aid could be reduced. Also Nehru might prefer to support Son Ngoc Thanh rather than Sihanouk.6 Eden endorsed the recommendation of his officials, minuting on 15 March 1955 that he welcomed Indian involvement in Cambodia – ‘The more the Indians are committed in Cambodia, the safer we shall be in Malaya.’7 India provided the chairman of the International Control Commission (ICC), created at Geneva, and was inevitably involved more deeply in Cambodian developments. Naturally, Sihanouk did not want an outside power to become too strong, especially if there was a possibility that help might be extended to his domestic opponents.


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In his annual report for 1956, the British minister commented that the outstanding recent development was the rapprochement effected between Sihanouk’s government and the communist powers. During 1956, Cambodia had established diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union, Poland and Czechoslovakia and had attained an amicable relationship with China. Trade agreements had been signed and Chou En-lai had visited Cambodia. As a result relations with Washington had been stormy. Sihanouk disapproved of American foreign policy and he resented criticism of his regime in the American press. Sihanouk’s international ambitions were hardly modest: he put forward a proposal for a team of neutral states ‘to work out a solution of the Suez, Palestine and Hungarian problems’.8 Sihanouk had transferred the office of prime minister which he occupied to another person of his choice while continuing to inspire deep respect – ‘his immense prestige gives him an authority as great as, for instance, that of General Franco in Spain’.9 It is doubtful whether Sihanouk would have welcomed the comparison. Sihanouk’s inclination towards neutralism and developing relations with communist states gathered momentum in 1957. J.A. Snellgrove commented in March 1957 that Cambodians were sensitive to criticism and Americans often revealed inadequate understanding of this dimension. ‘Unfortunately there is some truth in Sihanouk’s criticism of US policy, which often seems lacking in tact & subtlety. In Cambodia, as in Laos, one of our functions must be to explain US policy & intentions [so] as to assist the Americans towards a greater understanding of Asian peoples.’10 On 25 July 1958, Cambodia extended diplomatic recognition to the People’s Republic of China (PRC): the State Department had feared this decision for some time and John Foster Dulles and his officials endeavoured to dissuade Sihanouk. Dulles met Sihanouk in Washington on 30 September and a tense exchange occurred.11 Relations worsened in 1958–59. Sihanouk wrote to Eisenhower in February 1959 indirectly accusing the American government of plotting against his country.12 Eisenhower replied a few months later denying that his administration wished to depose the Cambodian government.13 Dag Hammarskjold, the secretary-general of the UN, became involved in Cambodian matters: in a conversation with Christian Herter, the new secretary of state, Hammarskjold referred openly to the ‘Quiet American’ and remarked that his experience in Lebanon had affected his interpretation of events in Cambodia. Herter denied that American agencies were engaged in plotting.14 On 19 September 1959, a bomb explosion in the royal palace caused fatalities and injuries: the Cambodian authorities held the government of South Vietnam to be responsible and accused the latter of assisting Cambodian rebels.15

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Britain encountered difficulties as relations between Cambodia and the United States worsened. The Foreign Office felt some sympathy for Sihanouk but the Macmillan government wanted to improve relations with Washington. Rumours of clandestine American activities were reported by Sir Robert Scott, in April 1959, from his base in Singapore, some emanating from Hammarskjold. Scott discussed the rumours with Jeff Parsons, Walter Robertson’s successor-designate in the State Department, and Parsons again repudiated allegations of American plotting, although he conceded that Americans were aware of plots and had tried to stop them.16 Officials in Whitehall concluded that American agents were probably assisting plotting.17 The Foreign Office invoked the assistance of Malcolm MacDonald from time to time, as elsewhere in Southeast Asia. MacDonald was skilful in establishing warm personal relations with a wide range of rulers and politicians and Sihanouk was no exception. MacDonald was serving as high commissioner in New Delhi in August 1960 and he visited Phnom Penh to meet Sihanouk. He reported that Sihanouk entertained genuine apprehension that South Vietnam and Thailand were plotting against him. Sihanouk was reluctant to request help from the Soviet Union and China but he might do so if no improvement occurred. MacDonald held that the position could be remedied only if South Vietnam and Thailand provided assurances that they were not assisting the Free Khmer movement and that they harboured no territorial designs in Cambodia. In addition, the United States should send arms supplies to the Cambodian armed forces.18 Later in August MacDonald forwarded detailed notes on his discussions. He explained that Sihanouk disapproved of recent American ambassadors because they were too arrogant and discourteous: in essence, MacDonald concurred, although he conceded that Sihanouk was impulsive and talked too bluntly. It was reassuring that the current Soviet ambassador had alienated Sihanouk. However, Sihanouk said that he respected China and the Chinese authorities treated him with respect. Sihanouk respected France and Britain but described the United States as immature. As regards communism in Cambodia, Sihanouk conceded that some intellectuals were attracted, especially those educated in France. MacDonald remarked on Sihanouk’s skill in dealing with peasants and the respect he elicited from them. He added that some politicians were disillusioned with Sihanouk and might intrigue against him. Sihanouk could be difficult to handle, given his excitable personality.19 The Foreign Office applauded MacDonald concluding that American policy was the vital dimension.20 A recurring theme in Foreign Office files is the desirability (or not) of Sihanouk making an official visit to Britain. British diplomats reported


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that Sihanouk wished to come to Britain, preferably on a state visit. This was discussed periodically between 1955 and 1965. The permanent under-secretary, Sir Ivone Kirkpatrick, was not enthusiastic for a full state visit because of the protocol and complexities associated with arranging it well ahead in consultation with the queen.21 It may be deduced that senior officials in Whitehall anticipated that Sihanouk would not be an easy guest to please. One official wrote that Sihanouk might be satisfied with a schedule including visits to Harwell (atomic energy), Covent Garden (opera or ballet), Sandhurst (Sihanouk had attended a French military academy), a nightclub (Sihanouk played the saxophone) and a film studio.22 Sihanouk could not be persuaded of the merits of anything less than a full state visit and he declined lesser invitations.23 The Foreign Office attached no urgency to the subject and debate continued in a desultory manner for years. British diplomats in Phnom Penh criticised the Foreign Office for slowness in acting and the criticism seems justified. There was a certain poetic justice in the Foreign Office returning to the issue in 1965, after an officially inspired mob had wrecked the British embassy and the offices of the British Council in Phnom Penh in 1964. The circumstances were hardly auspicious24; the fundamental cause was Sihanouk’s hostility towards the United States. Cambodia’s relations with neighbouring states were often fraught: this was the product of history, accentuated by contemporary dilemmas and personality clashes. On 23 October 1961, Cambodia severed relations with Thailand, following a phase of much tension. The catalyst was a speech delivered by Marshal Sarit, the Thai prime minister, on 22 October.25 MacDermot, the ambassador in Bangkok, reported that the Thai authorities were as much responsible for the rupture as the Cambodians. The Thai press has assailed Cambodian policy and ridiculed Sihanouk’s proposal for holding a summit meeting of leaders from Cambodia, Thailand and South Vietnam. MacDermot believed that the person responsible for encouraging Sarit’s intemperate language was Luang Vichit, noted for his past involvement in the ‘Greater Thai’ movement.26 Sihanouk had spoken of his anxiety regarding SEATO plans for possible intervention in Laos. The Foreign Office sent a telegram to Phnom Penh on 2 November commenting on SEATO planning. Plan 5 (for action against communist insurgency in Laos) did not mention Cambodia and did not stipulate entry of Thai forces into Cambodia. The Foreign Office deemed it unlikely that Sihanouk had seen a copy of any SEATO plan and he would not be conversant with detailed planning. The topic should not be raised with him: if Sihanouk pursued

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it, the defensive character of SEATO should be emphasised. Article 4, paragraph 3 of the Manila treaty stated that action on the territory of a protocol state could be implemented only with the approval of the relevant government – ‘As a last resort, you have discretion to offer to seek an assurance from your Government that no SEATO plan provides for the entry of Thai troops into Cambodian territory.’27 F.A. Warner minuted that Lord Lansdowne, the minister of state, had requested a briefing on the Sihanouk-Sarit ‘prize fight’.28 It was thought that Sihanouk could be worried at the collapse of negotiations over Laos and fears of a communist advance in Southeast Asia. He might have received ‘a garbled report’ on the recent meeting of SEATO military advisers ‘which have almost certainly been intercepted by the Russians’.29 He could also have been informed of rumours in Bangkok arising from ‘one of those Thai/ American schemes which are always being worked out in Bangkok’.30 In a subsequent meeting with Malcolm MacDonald, Sihanouk conveyed dislike of the regime in Saigon while reiterating vehement antagonism towards Sarit: Sihanouk said that he and Diem detested each other but they refrained from overt attack while Sarit acted most arrogantly. Sihanouk had now met President Kennedy and he described their discussions as cordial.31 Sihanouk underlined the necessity to establish a ‘neutral belt’, comprising Burma, Laos, Cambodia and South Vietnam – ‘This is still a sheet anchor of his international policy in South East Asia with a view to protecting Cambodia from Communism and enabling her to preserve her non-aligned position.’32 He wanted Thailand and North Vietnam incorporated within a neutral belt but he accepted that it was not feasible. Sihanouk urged the convening of a new Geneva conference. R.A. Butler, the foreign secretary, concurred but felt that American approval was essential; the Johnson administration was hostile, since this could affect policy in Vietnam. Sihanouk felt that Britain was acquiescing in American obstruction and Anglo-Cambodian relations moved into a dangerous phase. On 11 March 1964, a mob attacked the embassy building in Phnom Penh and the ground floor was wrecked; the offices of the British Council were ransacked.33 Butler castigated it as an ‘outrageous attack’.34 The American embassy was also attacked. The British ambassador interpreted events as denoting Sihanouk’s anger with Britain and the United States and argued that Sihanouk might be trying to compel a break in diplomatic relations.35 The ambassador concluded pessimistically ‘It seems likely that Cambodia will now become effectively a Communist satellite within the next twelve months.’36 Growing American intervention in Vietnam increased Sihanouk’s concern. Border


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incidents between South Vietnam and Cambodia occurred with more frequency. In March 1964, a Cambodian village, situated near the border, was shelled by South Vietnamese forces and aircraft. The incident took place at a particularly sensitive time and the ambassador suspected that provocation from South Vietnam was intentional.37 Sihanouk contacted U Thant, the UN secretary-general, General de Gaulle and Nikita Khruschev and alleged that the attack was conducted by American and South Vietnamese forces. R.A. Butler told the State Department on 19 March 1964 that a new Geneva conference was essential – ‘I cannot agree that we should merely relapse into inaction and wait on events, a course which has hitherto only increased our difficulties.’38 Averell Harriman repeated familiar American objections and stressed that priority was assigned to the preferences of Thailand and South Vietnam. He conceded that ‘the United States Government had made a mistake in not having taken Sihanouk seriously at an earlier stage. As a result they had indeed missed the bus and now found themselves in a difficult situation’.39 Butler was caught between the obduracy of the Americans and the ire of Sihanouk. While a rupture with Cambodia was not desirable, Butler believed that attacks on British property could not be tolerated and the British ambassador was withdrawn from Phnom Penh in June 1964. Butler summarised his policy in a circular telegram sent to certain ambassadors on 22 April 1964: Britain would like to see an international conference on Cambodian neutrality, both for the contribution it could make towards keeping Cambodia out of the Communist bloc and for the reinvigorating effect it might have on Anglo-Soviet contacts on South-East Asian problems. But the United States, Thai and South Vietnamese Governments are strongly opposed to such a conference. Our object has been, and remains, therefore, a short conference, which would endorse agreements previously arrived at between Cambodia and her neighbours.40 Sihanouk was very obstinate: Britain wished to prevent Cambodia being forced into the communist sphere or emerging as a new theatre of conflict. It was not possible to proceed with a conference without the agreement of the United States, Thailand and South Vietnam. In his annual report for 1964 the charge d’affaires, Fielding, reported to the new Labour foreign secretary, Patrick Gordon Walker, that it had been a bad year for the West in Cambodia. Relations with Britain had

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deteriorated and the prospects were not encouraging. Sihanouk might decide to sever relations with the United States. Conflict with South Vietnam could easily develop if the Mekong was blockaded. Sihanouk might recognise the DRV and move towards the communist states. But Sihanouk wanted a neutral and nationalist Cambodia. Fielding recommended pursuance of a hard-headed, realistic approach.41 In the main this gloomy forecast was borne out in 1965. Anti-American sentiments grew and Sihanouk made outspoken attacks on American policy. The US embassy was closed in May 1965, following an attack by a mob on 26 April.42 Gordon Walker was visiting Phnom Penh at the time and he made strenuous representations to the Cambodian government and to the Soviet Ambassador in the latter’s capacity as dean of the diplomatic corps.43 The timing of the incident was linked with the publication of an article in Newsweek critical of the royal family. As the war in Vietnam intensified, the outlook was bleak. Sihanouk swung towards China in the second half of 1965 and castigated the Soviet Union, following cancellation of his announced visit to Moscow in October 1965. Sihanouk stated that he had received a message from the Soviet government on 8 October, while visiting North Korea, saying that Soviet leaders were too busy to see him. He denounced the Soviet action as ‘an absolutely inexcusable and irreparable snub, a veritable provocation to a break between our two countries’.44 He speculated that Soviet leaders resented his recent visit to China and his criticism of the nuclear monopoly practised by the United States and the Soviet Union. He added that racism was an ingredient in the Soviet insult – ‘The Russians are coming closer to the Americans because, like them, they are white. For them the yellow peril is first of all China.’45 Sihanouk spoke candidly to Malcolm MacDonald in the discussion already referred to at the start of this chapter. He did not want Cambodia to become too involved in the Vietnam War. Relations with Britain had been bad but were now improving. The problem was that the British would not stand up to American pressure and gave way too readily. The United States was interested solely in Vietnam and did not focus on the problems facing Cambodia. Sihanouk felt that he had not been treated with enough respect by the British government; in contrast, General de Gaulle had established a certain independence through being firm with the Americans and he revealed sympathy for Cambodia.46 The essence of Cambodia’s role was captured by Leslie Fielding in a despatch sent to London on 26 June 1964 and it is appropriate to end this section with his succinct assessment: ‘Cambodia is a small country who is perpetually on bad terms with her immediate neighbours and whose policies


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depend largely on the whim of a volatile and unpredictable Head of State. But it is perhaps for these very reasons that Cambodia is such a useful pawn in the world game, whether to Sukarno, de Gaulle or Mao Tse-tung.’47

Laos Laos became a focal point for international tension and rivalry in the later 1950s and early 1960s. The key features were summarised in May 1956 by the retiring British minister, Lord Talbot de Malahide. He was the first British minister in Vientiane and was charged with establishing a British presence. Laos was backward and isolated: much of it comprised primitive jungle and there were only five ‘towns’. Vientiane possessed a population of approximately 50,000 and the total population was around two million. Land communications were poor and there were no railways. Air travel was the best method of visiting different areas, hazardous as it was. The climate was enervating and conducive to disease. The peoples of Laos were amiable and easy-going. Laos was threatened by two aggressive neighbours and had been afforded the dubious solace of protection by SEATO ‘which has taken her under its umbrella but is not committed to come to her rescue if she is attacked’. Talbot added ‘From a carefree backwater Laos has been transformed into an outpost in the front line of the cold war. With her indefensible frontier, slender resources and easy-going outlook, it must be wondered whether she has any hope of survival.’48 The official language was still French and the French role was important, if declining. Economic problems were daunting and appreciable foreign aid was required. The United States met all of the costs of running the armed forces. The relationship between Laos and Thailand was ambivalent; Laos could have been incorporated within Thailand during the nineteenth century had the French not blocked Thai expansion. Talbot referred to certain ‘sinister’ Thai interests plotting advancement in Laos. The United States was encouraging Thai activity. The concept of Laos as a state developed after the Pacific War: the monarchy was originally based in Luang Prabang and faced rivalry from other princely houses which continued to exercise regional influence. Political leadership was mostly of poor calibre; the best politician was Prince Souvanna Phouma. He desired internal cohesion, the development of constitutional government and the attainment of a delicate balancing act between the various foreign states and agencies interfering in the affairs of the remote kingdom. The Foreign Office thought highly of Souvanna, subject to occasional qualifications


when he seemed to be veering too far towards compromise with the communists inside and outside Laos. The British regarded Laos as weak and vulnerable: the best that could be hoped for was to consolidate Laos within a neutral buffer zone. As with Cambodia, Anthony Eden and his officials wished to encourage a positive Indian role in fostering neutrality with a slight bias in favour of the West. Unfortunately, the Eisenhower administration viewed Souvanna with deep suspicion and deemed neutrality as only a few steps removed from communism. The United States intervened increasingly in Laos via diplomatic and intelligence personnel, some of the latter pursuing agendas of their own which included assisting the Kuomintang (KMT) remnants operating in Burma and Laos (see Chapter 4 for further discussion). The DRV was actively involved in helping the Pathet Lao, the indigenous communists, derived from the independence movement against the Japanese and the French. The Soviet Union shared with Britain the invidious task of chairing the Geneva conference and desultory consultations took place between Moscow and London: both wanted to prevent escalation into a more dangerous conflict. In April 1963, Nikita Khruschev expressed a widespread opinion among world leaders when he told Averell Harriman that he was ‘fed up’ with Laos and ‘wished the problem would go away’.49 It could be said with certainty that the problem would not ‘go away.’ Between 1955 and 1959, Laos was in a transitional stage in moving from an era in which French influence predominated to an ill-defined future in which the United States and the DRV contended for dominance. In viewing the prospective viability of Laos in 1955 the British military attaché, Colonel V.M. Wainwright, assessed the state of the armed forces: the results were not encouraging. French military instructors (who remained in Laos for some years) had not achieved much and set a poor example in dress. Laotian officers were mostly mediocre and ignorant tactically; communication and coordination within the army were poor; all ranks received inadequate training and knowledge of field defences was very poor. Unlike its opponents in the Pathet Lao, the royal Laotian army did not understand what it was fighting for.50 French instructors were cynical and inept; would American or British instructors be better? Wainwright doubted it – ‘Although one would like to see a smarter, livelier attitude my own opinion is that American instructors would either antagonise the Laotians or be driven crazy by them.’51 According to statistics obtained in Paris, the Laotian army totalled approximately 27,000 and it was divided into seventeen infantry battalions, two parachute battalions, three reconnaissance squadrons, artillery equipped with


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mortars, seven engineer companies, one signal company and five transport companies. The air force possessed four Dakotas and a liaison flight. The French military mission was large extending to approximately 900 and almost equalled the size of the combined missions to Vietnam and Cambodia.52 France aspired to retain a significant presence in Laos and some members of the Laotian elite maintained respect for French culture and invested in property in France (this included Souvanna). However, the United States wanted to eliminate French involvement. British officials viewed the prospect of growing American activity with considerable reservation fearing that Americans would be too insensitive and autocratic. James Cable was not persuaded by the tone of an American intelligence briefing compiled in June 1956. It deplored the indications of a neutralist realignment by the Laotian government, which would be a grave blow to American plans. Cable wrote I find this a slightly alarming document, which shows how far American ideas – in the Pentagon at least – are from our own. We had hoped that we had begun to convert the Americans to the idea that Laos was too small, too thinly populated, and too poor ever to be anything but a liability as an ally or to have any hope of safety except in neutralism. Evidently our efforts had not met with much success.53 Arthur de la Mare, who was based in Washington, replied that the Eisenhower administration perceived Asian issues in the context of ‘American-Chinese hostility and tension’. In time, the American approach should become more flexible but it would be premature to expect an early modification: It is still with them as much an article of faith as ever that the slightest sign of American rapprochement with – here it is called appeasement of – China will send the whole of South-East Asia scurrying into the arms of Peking ... One could very well argue that a good deal of SouthEast Asia is already scurrying into the arms of Peking, and the reason for it is American ‘appeasement’ of Chiang Kai-shek, Syngman Rhee and General Romulo but the expression of such dangerous thoughts to a State Department official would be highly embarrassing to him, even though he might secretly agree with them.54 The Suez crisis and resulting friction in Anglo-American relations did not help in reaching an understanding over Laos. De la Mare observed,


in November 1956, that ‘post-Suez coolness’ was encountered in the State Department, although rather less in the sections he dealt with. The Americans distrusted Souvanna and did not share positive British views..55 Clearly the Eisenhower administration wished to sponsor politicians and military men of a right-wing outlook, regardless of their capabilities. The Foreign Office needed accurate information on the internal situation in Laos. Holliday, the minister in Vientiane, embarked on a series of tours, travelling with a well-disposed Lao politician: he submitted illuminating reports. For example, in March–April 1957 he travelled for approximately one thousand miles in southern Laos in the company of Pheng Pongsavan, president of the National Assembly. Holliday discovered that support for the Pathet Lao was not restricted to the two northern provinces of Sam Neua and Phong Saly. Elements opposed to the monarchy and supporting the ‘red prince’, Souphanouvong (halfbrother to Souvanna), were to be found in the ten provinces nominally under royal control: this applied particularly in outlying provinces such as the Upper Mekong, Saravane and Atopeu, which were isolated with poor communications. These areas could be penetrated easily from the two northern provinces, China and the DRV. The Vietminh controlled much of the areas concerned during the anti-French war. Holliday said that his travels confirmed what Souvanna had told him: the Laotians were not communists or remotely interested in Marxism–Leninism but there was considerable underlying discontent, which could be exploited by the Pathet Lao. Holliday attended about a dozen village meetings and deduced that nationalism and hostility to colonialism were important. The Americans were regarded as an extension of French intervention. The Pathet Lao were perceived as the natural successor to the Lao Issarak in opposing colonialism. Holliday expressed gratitude to his guide, Pheng. They worked hard, rose early, covered appreciable distances in rough terrain, attended five or six meetings a day and concluded with a meal and a village dance. When Pheng addressed meetings, he received positive reactions when denouncing outside interference (alluding to China but it could apply equally to the United States) and when he supported extension of democracy. Holliday concluded that France was disliked for historic reasons and the United States was too imperialistic. The Vietnamese and Thais were disliked too. Britain could help through fostering democracy and developing a subtle approach to combating communism.56 The Foreign Office welcomed Holliday’s report and arranged for circulation to relevant departments dealing with propaganda and the BBC.57 Holliday believed that ‘an international guarantee of her neutrality would be the best way of ensuring the country’s future stability’.58


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The most effective method of undermining support for the Pathet Lao would be to disprove the allegation that Laos was becoming ‘a base for American imperialism’. The United States must be persuaded that neutrality offered a real prospect of minimising Chinese influence in Laos. The Laotian army was weak and it was unlikely that it would ever be strong enough to withstand attacks from Thailand or Vietnam. It would be foolish to contemplate adhesion of Laos to SEATO. The Geneva agreement had assisted in restricting intrigue by neighbouring states but Holliday recommended replacing it with a guarantee of perpetual neutrality, signed by Britain, the United States, France and the Soviet Union. Experience of working in Switzerland and Sweden gave Holliday confidence in advancing his proposal. A neutral Laos would constitute a ‘protective pad’ as envisaged by Eden in 1954. Officials in Whitehall were divided in their reactions. Snellgrove agreed with Holliday but J.O. McCormick argued that communist subversion would persist regardless of agreements. He recommended examining the viability of the army more carefully and considering a reiteration of the final declaration of the Geneva conference with support from the United States.59 In his opinion communism was at least as alien to the Lao character as the approach of the West, probably more so. As always, the principal obstacle was American policy. In August 1957, Holliday reported to his amazement that Souvanna Phouma was making proposals remarkably similar to those he had advanced. The only significant change was that Souvanna proposed including India to the list of guarantors of neutrality. Holliday denied having pursued the subject with Souvanna; the latter desired a guarantee before concluding a political settlement.60 The Foreign Office decided that Souvanna should not be encouraged to take his proposal further at this time but Holliday could discuss the subject with his American colleague.61 Holliday visited other areas of Laos and his experiences confirmed his earlier conclusions. In his valedictory despatch, submitted to London at the end of 1957, he stated that during his 15 months in Laos he had toured nine out of twelve provinces. Communications were slowly improving but were still primitive. There were no railways, trade unions or newspapers in Laos. He liked the peoples of Laos and felt sympathy for them. The most constructive British line for Britain was to act as ‘a candid friend’ of Laotians and Americans.62 Under relentless Treasury pressure to cut expenditure, the Foreign Office supported termination of the ICCs for Laos and Cambodia while continuing the ICC for Vietnam in a modified form.63 The total cost of operating all three commissions was approximately £300,000 a year. The Soviet Union and

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India (which provided chairmen for the commissions) should appreciate that no hidden motive inspired the proposal. Britain’s relations with Russia were amicable, subject to the familiar qualification. After lengthy exchanges in 1958–59, the Soviet Union accepted the proposal that the ICC for Laos should be terminated. This was surprising because Poland was urging the return of the ICC to Laos urgently – ‘Our interpretation is that the Russians do not wish to create an atmosphere of crisis in Laos.’64 The Laotian government did not want the ICC to continue; it was agreed subsequently that it would be discharged. Lord Lansdowne met the Soviet charge d’affaires, Roshchin, in July 1959: the latter observed that matters were more serious than the British appeared to think. There was a danger of civil war.65 In a subsequent meeting Roshchin protested at growing American intervention: the Soviet government held that it was wrong of Laos to have accepted the protection of SEATO and American military aid. Laos was violating the Geneva agreement and was heightening tension. Lansdowne responded that there should be no public sign of divergence between the co-chairmen: the sovereignty and independence of Laos should be respected. Laos did not intend to join SEATO and accusations by communist states were misguided. The Soviet government should remember the virulent propaganda circulated by the North Vietnamese authorities.66 Hammarkjold indicated that he could not assume responsibility for sending a UN representative or observers to Laos unless the co-chairmen concurred: he added that the framework of the Geneva agreements must be respected.67 In a Foreign Office memorandum drafted on 14 August D.C. Tebbit dryly remarked that a UN representative might find it odd to explain how the presence of around one hundred American military personnel could be reconciled with the Geneva agreements. Laos could try to placate those involved through opening diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union and ending consular relations with the KMT regime in Taiwan. In addition, Laos could repeat that it did not intend to join Western alliances or allow foreign troops or bases in Laos. Detained Pathet Lao leaders would have to be released on condition that DRV interference in Laos ceased. Britain must confirm its intention of maintaining the Geneva accords.68 Holliday had not been in Laos for almost twenty months but he provided an assessment on 11 August. The Americans were firmly established in South Vietnam and Thailand and the communist states would oppose vigorously any attempt to create a similar situation in Laos ‘as this would result in a continuous American-controlled military barrier across the South East Asian peninsula immediately to the south of the “soft underbelly” of China’.69 French influence was not resented


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now because the French were critical of the Americans. The problem was that the United States did not want to tolerate limitations on American power: Not even an open-minded representative such as Mr. Parsons could ever be brought to admit that a policy of genuine neutrality (the buffer state envisaged by Sir Anthony Eden and Mr. Chou En-lai) might be the best one for Laos and for the West. I have little doubt that his instructions were to work towards the ‘tidy’ solution of aligning Laos with Thailand and South Vietnam: he as good as told me so.70 Holliday did not believe it was necessary to station American military advisers in Laos, since it was unlikely that an efficient army could be established. He added ‘I have rarely seen two peoples less destined to understand each other at the personal level than Americans, particularly the army type, and Laotians, and I would confidently predict that the presence of the mission will lead to friction between the Americans and the Laotians.71 He felt that the Americans must be willing to compromise and perhaps to work through remaining French military advisers. D.F. McDermot agreed, stating that he feared oppressive American tactics.72 President Eisenhower and Secretary of State Herter met Harold Macmillan and Selwyn Lloyd at Chequers in August 1959. At a preliminary meeting on 28 August Lloyd inquired as to American aims: he doubted whether the kind of approach pursued in South Korea and South Vietnam could succeed in Laos – ‘Ought our objective to be to achieve a sort of South-East Asian Austria?’73 On the following day Macmillan said it was right to supply arms to the Laotian army and assist with training. Eisenhower thought everyone should contribute positively: American resources were spread too thinly throughout the world. He added that ‘no white man could do the job in Laos, it was essential to find someone belonging to the country who would fight the Communists’.74 The Foreign Office and the chiefs of staff were unhappy with SEATO planning for intervention in Laos. They wished to avoid contravention of the Geneva agreements and the chiefs of staff had suggested widening the scope of the agreements to incorporate externally supported insurgency. Some members of SEATO could come to perceive the existing arrangements as an operational plan, which would be implemented at the appropriate time. The British view was different: characteristically the chiefs of staff wished to evade commitment of forces,

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identification of an appointed nation (to assemble forces on behalf of SEATO) and appointment of a force commander. Political decisions must be taken in the light of the situation existing at the crucial point for decision-making.75 According to the British military adviser to SEATO, the American commander, Admiral Felt, intended to urge an increase in American forces for Plan 5B/59 so that it could become operative.76 Australia and Thailand favoured adoption of a more assertive policy. MacDermot commented ‘I don’t think we can fairly be accused of flogging minor details. The legalistic trees we have drawn attention to are potential woods. (The Americans seem to see neither woods nor trees.)’77 Sir Frederick Hoyer Millar underlined British anxiety over the conduct of sections of the American government: concern focused on the activities of the CIA and the Pentagon. Ministers and the defence chiefs did not want to become involved in military action in Laos.78 De la Mare offered reassurance that the State Department was controlling policy: less danger of brinkmanship existed with Herter and Parsons than had been the case when Dulles and Robertson were in charge.79 General Phoumi Nosavan moved to the forefront of affairs in 1959–60. Alarm was voiced in London at Phoumi’s emergence. John Addis reported in May 1960 that Phoumi was running his own political party which was acting autocratically. One feature for concern was the intimate links between Phoumi and his uncle, Marshal Sarit, the Thai dictator. Phoumi received financial support from Thailand and ‘He is believed to have Thai military officers permanently at his headquarters as advisers.’80 The king wanted to consolidate royal authority beyond the original area in Luang Prabang and in that respect he shared Phoumi’s aim, but the king was opposed to a military solution. Early in August 1960, the position was transformed when a coup was executed by a charismatic young paratroop officer, Captain Kong Le. Statements emanating from Kong Le emphasised desire for unity and criticism of American policy.81 Phoumi fled to Bangkok to seek the solace of Sarit while he contemplated his next move. Kong Le was 26 years of age and had attended a training school in the Philippines in 1957. He was a fervent Buddhist and popular with his troops.82 Souvanna formed a new administration in August 1960; the Foreign Office was fully aware of American antagonism towards Souvanna but argued that it should be possible to influence Souvanna in the desired direction.83 The emergence of Kong Le stimulated renewed debate in London over the promotion of neutrality in Laos. David Ormsby Gore, the minister of state, minuted that when Macmillan met Eisenhower, the prime minister had argued that Laos should be manoeuvred into a


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form of neutralism acceptable to the West. He expressed unhappiness at American policy: I would certainly regard as the greatest danger to us a right-wing, proWestern, corrupt regime which through its stupidity got us involved in a new Indo/China war. I have always feared that American policy might lead us into just such a mess and Mr. Herter made it very clear that they would not then be prepared to send sufficient forces to get us out of it.84 He added that he much preferred to support Souvanna rather than Phoumi. A sanitised document reveals the alarm felt by John Addis at the activities of American agencies in Laos: I am afraid that we must accept as an almost certain fact that not only the expert appreciations but also the factual information given to the American Ambassador by his advisers, particularly his military advisers, have been strongly coloured by political prejudice. This I think is the explanation of the very wide difference of the appreciation of General Phoumi’s military capabilities between the Americans on the one side and the French and ourselves on the other.85 Addis advanced his reflections in a despatch sent to London on 24 August. He criticised British and American policies since 1954: under American pressure Britain had moved away from Eden’s policy and had intervened to secure the formation of a government committed to supporting the West. Thus, Britain helped to bring down Souvanna’s previous administration in 1958. The communists would probably have acquiesced originally in genuine neutrality but they were frustrated by American policy. The West should embrace a solution that would offer stability to Laos on a basis acceptable to East and West. Therefore, Britain must commit itself unequivocally to neutrality. Addis recalled that when he met Selwyn Lloyd in January 1960 the foreign secretary stated that he favoured neutrality. He reiterated: A genuinely neutral Laos is the best defence for Western interests in South-East Asia. There is some reason to believe that the Chinese and North Vietnamese would have been content with this position as the consequence of the Geneva Conference and some hope that they might now be willing to accept the position without wishing to undermine it by insurrection.86

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Lord Home, now foreign secretary, replied agreeing that neutrality would be the best outcome but rejecting Addis’s criticism of British policy in 1958. Addis underestimated the problems caused by the Pathet Lao. Anglo-American relations could not be jeopardised by developments in Laos: the United States would in essence determine the Western response. It was important to define ‘neutrality’, an approach analogous to that followed by Burma and Ceylon would be satisfactory but not the ‘raucous’ neutralism favoured by Cuba or Guinea.87 American support for Phoumi and antagonism towards Souvanna resulted ironically in strengthening the Pathet Lao and rendered it more difficult to obtain the kind of solution preferred by the Foreign Office. Home sent a message to Herter on 12 October 1960 deploring the deterioration in Laos and warning that the chances of securing a satisfactory solution were fast disappearing. The Americans opposed Souvanna but the British felt he was worthy of support: he could ‘pull things off if he enjoys the undivided support of the Western powers’.88 Souvanna denounced the United States with ‘great bitterness’ and condemned ‘their bad faith’.89 Souvanna sought to maintain his authority amidst growing difficulty; the defection of General Ouane to a right-wing group was a serious blow. Souvanna was compelled to accept that the political front for the Pathet Lao (the NLHS) would join his government.90 Addis told the American ambassador of rumours that American agencies, particularly the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), were plotting to undermine Souvanna and mould an anti-communist bloc without him: the ambassador denied the allegations.91 The assurance counted for nothing as a right-wing rebellion, led by Phoumi, occurred, supported by the United States with the purpose of deposing Souvanna.92 A new administration was formed by Prince Boun Oum, with Phoumi as deputy prime minister, while Souvanna and his cabinet fled to Cambodia. The danger loomed of the new government requesting the assistance of SEATO: the loquacious Filipino defence secretary talked openly of SEATO plans for intervention in Laos.93 Macmillan sent a personal message to Eisenhower, regretting divergence in tactics, while agreeing that Souvanna should agree to resign and permit Boun Oum to consolidate his position as prime minister. Eisenhower professed puzzlement at the reference to contrasting approaches: Boun Oum should be supported in the light of reports that North Vietnam was helping the Pathet Lao and Chinese troops may have been parachuted into Laos.94 Macmillan’s allusion to divergence was an understatement of British anxiety. The Foreign Office was thoroughly exasperated at American obtuseness. Britain would have to consult the co-chairman and the Soviet Union


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could recommend holding elections, which might be won by the Pathet Lao. Russia would probably urge the return of the ICC and reconvening the Geneva conference – ‘It would be difficult to think of any good excuse for not doing so. We may be sure, however, that the Americans will resist this until the end.’95 Warner commented, in a letter to the Washington embassy, that the most awkward point had come when he met Livingston Merchant and told him that the Foreign Office was contemplating cooperating with Russia to halt conflict in Laos. Merchant was aghast at the thought that ‘we would join the Russians to sabotage the policy of our American allies’.96 The one ray of light was the impending departure of the Eisenhower administration and the arrival in office of John F. Kennedy. Senator Mike Mansfield, the new Democratic majority leader, made a trenchant attack on the policy of the outgoing administration, implying that it was largely responsible for the mess in Laos.97 While maintaining his credentials as a vigorous critic of communism, the new president believed that flexibility was required in formulating policy. Laos was a difficult issue because of proximity to China and because of the unyielding approaches adopted by certain senior officers in the armed forces and CIA. The Eisenhower administration had supported politicians and army officers committed to extreme anti-communist approaches. This was unrealistic because the Pathet Lao enjoyed significant support and the geographical location of Laos precluded a policy of opposing communism at all costs. A ceasefire was concluded on 3 May 1961 and this offered a breathing space. The British Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) examined the situation in May and deduced that the Pathet Lao was well placed to extend its power, conceivably to the whole of Laos. The authority of the royal government had declined markedly and it was hard to see how this could be reversed. The fall of Laos to communism would discredit SEATO and Thailand might adopt a neutralist stance unless the United States offered a solid guarantee. The repercussions elsewhere in the region would be serious. The JIC speculated as to why the Pathet Lao accepted a ceasefire. Possible explanations included the contingency of SEATO intervention, representations from the Soviet Union, China and the DRV or the fact that Pathet Lao lines of communication were too taut. For the West the danger was that escalation could develop if SEATO intervened and this could provoke action by China and the DRV against SEATO bases. The governments of Malaya and India would be alienated and riots might erupt in Singapore and Hong Kong.98 A subsequent appreciation considered the implications of partition. Both Vietnamese states, Thailand and Burma could advance claims to


different parts of Laos. Military intervention by SEATO, with a small force of approximately 13,000, could remove Pathet Lao domination of the specific areas occupied and could constitute a short front to hold. A SEATO force would have its west flank on the Mekong river and its east flank on the Annamite range: the latter would be susceptible to infiltration. It would not be feasible to occupy all of the ceasefire positions or to hold Laotian territory north of Paksone. If partition occurred, there were four conceivable northern boundaries: division along the approximate alignment of the seventeenth parallel would be appropriate. Skilful diplomacy would be essential to mollify neutralist opinion. Any form of intervention carried significant risks for the West and it would be challenging to achieve viability in a partitioned southern Laos.99 The chiefs of staff noted, on 1 June 1961, that the Kennedy administration had gone a considerable distance to satisfy British representations including placing emphasis on defensive motivation, areas to be occupied along the Mekong and excluding areas held before 3 May, air action against the Pathet Lao being restricted to targets in Laos, not immediately adjacent to the borders with the DRV and China. The chiefs of staff concluded ‘The American terms of reference for further contingency planning represent a major concession to United Kingdom views ... it would now be difficult to object, on military grounds, to the preparation of such plans but we must point out that their implementation might carry the grave risk of involvement in limited war, with possibly disastrous consequences.’100 A report prepared by the local JIC in Singapore stressed the formidable qualities of the Chinese army: its tactical doctrine was powerfully influenced by the theories of Mao Tsetung, lessons derived from the Korean War and contemporary Soviet military doctrine. The communists emphasised the importance of liquidating enemy forces as against occupation of territory. They would have to anticipate use of nuclear weapons by SEATO, which they did not possess.101 Averell Harriman was handling much of the diplomacy concerning Southeast Asia during the Kennedy administration. He advanced proposals for possible action by SEATO, which were considered by the chiefs of staff in September 1961. They identified the risk of escalation involving the Soviet Union, China and use of nuclear weapons. The Geneva conference had now reconvened in an attempt to produce a negotiated settlement. The Harriman proposals were intended to stop a communist takeover of Laos if the Geneva conference failed and the ceasefire collapsed. SEATO Plan 5 would then be implemented and the Thai border sealed up to the seventeenth parallel.


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Thai troops would be deployed in an area around Luang Prabang and up to the Burmese (but not Chinese) border; South Vietnamese troops would be used in southern Laos. The chiefs of staff were dubious of the number and quality of the troops involved: anxiety was accentuated by the nature of the terrain. It was likely that the United States and the British Commonwealth would be drawn in further. They concluded that detailed planning could well confirm that the proposals were not practicable.102 The JIC reviewed the position towards the end of 1961 noting that intervention as envisaged by Harriman would not attain the desired political objective and would entail onerous military obligations. Politically the proposals required removal of Souvanna Phouma: he was widely respected in Laos and among neutral states. No one was capable of leading a genuinely neutralist government. It was impossible for Britain to endorse forcible removal of Souvanna from Laos – ‘Unilateral American action, which cannot entirely be ruled out, would create an extremely grave situation ... both in SEATO and the Commonwealth.’103 Souvanna could be propelled towards cooperation with the Pathet Lao and in turn he could influence international opinion against SEATO. Cambodia would oppose partition. Harriman’s ideas involved too many risks and could not be recommended. As the British recognised, the United States could have acted unilaterally but the consequences for SEATO would have been detrimental, if not fatal, and the Kennedy administration resumed the familiar course of mixing cajolery with coercion. Souvanna Phouma was perceived as the key actor: if he could form a government of national unity, then the Pathet Lao might be persuaded to demobilise. He had seen his half-brother Souphanouvong and told him that progress in demobilisation was imperative before he would consent to the holding of elections. Despite the growing Sino-Soviet rift, Souvanna believed that China and Russia wanted a diplomatic solution and that they would exert pressure on the DRV.104 Sir Frank Roberts, the ambassador in Moscow, met Abramov, the Soviet ambassador to Laos, in February 1962 and conducted an interesting discussion with him on a journey from Paris to Moscow. Abramov confirmed the British view that Souvanna could form a government. He spoke warmly of John Addis, the ambassador in Vientiane, and said that they had cooperated well. According to Abramov, the American ambassador, Horace Brown ‘had told his friends in Vientiane that he represented the United States and not only President Kennedy; he had to consider its long term interests, regardless of the present views of the Kennedy family’.105 Abramov added ‘that the CIA and some United States soldiers

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were still sabotaging White House policy’.106 A. Simons in the Foreign Office minuted ‘This is an interesting reflection of the views of the Russians, which seem fairly close to our own.’107 Three months later The Times and the Daily Telegraph published reports that the Kennedy administration believed that the CIA had sabotaged policy in Laos: the CIA had supported Phoumi and supplied money from its budget to offset the reduction in official American aid. In 1960, the CIA had plotted to undermine Souvanna and he had then been removed by Phoumi.108 Harriman told the British ambassador in Bangkok on 23 March that he could not see ‘how to destroy the Frankenstein created by the previous United States Administration without leaving a vacuum which the Pathet Lao cannot be allowed to fill’.109 Feelings of exasperation and frustration were ubiquitous. Souvanna was in London briefly, early in April 1962, changing planes en route to Paris to attend his daughter’s wedding. He emphasised that the United States must apply sanctions against Phoumi and that a firm line must be adopted in dealing with Marshal Sarit in Thailand. At any rate, as far as he was concerned the Americans must resolve the dilemma and he would remain in Paris until they had done so – ‘If necessary he would stay there until the birth of his great-grandchildren.’110 The Foreign Office thought highly of John Addis and officials heaped praise on his valedictory despatch, forwarded to London on 25 May 1962. ‘Masterful’ and ‘fascinating’ were among the adjectives applied and Sir Harold Caccia, the permanent under-secretary, commented that ‘This strikes me as near the mark about Laos as may be.’111 The foreign secretary, Lord Home, minuted ‘Good. I think the PM would like to see.’112 Addis summarised the problems in Laos mordantly. He was dismissive of the French contribution: ‘Fifty years of French colonialism did almost nothing except preserve this rather sordid Garden of Eden.’ The elite comprised mainly princely families and the former mandarinate. The king was active in right-wing politics and spent most of his time in Luang Prabang concentrating on his religious duties: he advocated paternal authoritarianism, presided over by a priest-king. Souvanna was a man of integrity, worthy of support. Souphanouvong, was a very different character, essentially a ‘romantic idealist’, exploited by the communists. Phoumi was an ambitious opportunist, devoid of principle or patriotism: the more intelligent Americans now realised their mistake in supporting Phoumi. It was vital to secure withdrawal of Vietminh forces from Laos and this could be accomplished through building on the ceasefire agreement reached in Geneva in 1961. A coalition government was essential and it would require at least two years


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to lay the foundation for a viable, neutral Laos.113 Fred Warner wrote to Addis observing that it had been ‘a constant pleasure’ to receive his communications.114 Progress in the negotiations initiated in Geneva in May 1961 was long delayed by the obstinacy of the right-wing groups, associated with Prince Boun Oum. Military reverses inflicted on them eventually produced grudging acceptance of a coalition government representing the three principal factions. In July 1962, the participants in the Geneva conference (Britain, the Soviet Union, the United States, Laos, France, China, the DRV, South Vietnam, Cambodia, Burma, Thailand, India, Canada and Poland) signed a protocol stipulating neutrality for Laos; this assumed optimistically that the Laotian factions could be convinced to work together on a longer-term basis. Souvanna was indispensable to this process: he was the sole political leader of real talent and genuine commitment. However, the Pathet Lao and the rightists each believed that they could triumph while the strength of the neutralists declined, as their adherents veered to left or right respectively. The only prospect for containing communism lay in cooperation between anticommunist and non-communist factions but this was frustrated by rightist plotting encouraged by Americans opposed to the conciliatory approach pursued by President Kennedy. The situation moved in favour of the communists in 1962–63. Divisions emerged among neutralists supporting Kong Le and grave doubts emerged on the viability of the neutralists as a discrete group. The Foreign Office informed Washington on 18 April 1963 that cohesion among the forces supporting Kong Le must be maintained. This was linked with sustaining Souvanna’s authority. Neutralism in Laos could disintegrate unless assisted by the ICC. Russia was proving difficult over the powers exercised by the ICC and Lord Home felt that Britain should make clear that it was prepared to reconvene the Geneva conference if necessary.115 Developments resulted in the transfer of Souvanna to the right wing of Laotian politics as against left-centre. A briefing paper was devised in the Foreign Office by the Southeast Asia department in June 1963 in preparation for discussions with the Australian prime minister, Sir Robert Menzies. This commented that frequent clashes had occurred between the Pathet Lao and Kong Le’s forces. The Pathet Lao were capable of defeating most of Kong Le’s troops with the possible exception of those situated in Kong Le’s main centre in the Plain of Jars. Rightist forces would probably collapse if involved in significant conflict. The Pathet Lao did not want a final rupture in relations with Souvanna but Souphanouvong was far more critical of his half-brother’s policy. Russia was now more

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awkward to deal with partly because of the impact of the worsening Sino-Soviet dispute. Russia did not want rapid deterioration in Laos, which could lead to American military intervention. Britain wished to retain cooperation with Russia – ‘To keep even the façade of the Geneva Settlement still suits us better than a complete breakdown.’116 Warner minuted wearily on 28 June 1963 that the current crisis differed from its predecessor in 1960 in that it had not arisen from American stupidity: the contemporary crisis resulted from communist intransigence. Warner doubted if there were any longer political reasons for attempting to restrain the United States and SEATO from intervention in Laos.117 American/SEATO forces could secure the Mekong valley and serious fighting could probably be avoided. North Vietnamese and Pathet Lao forces would control the Pathet Lao-held areas and Chinese ‘volunteers’ might materialise. Uneasy acceptance of a de facto partition line might be attainable but the risks would be appreciable. Britain could not contribute as much as envisaged in the former version of SEATO Plan 5, which had contemplated the presence of the whole Commonwealth brigade with supporting units. Deteriorating relations with Indonesia meant that Britain must prepare for conflict in the Borneo territories by the autumn of 1963 and resources would be stretched to the limit. He speculated that the Americans might not be too dismayed if the British role in Laos was diminished.118 Souvanna worked patiently to secure cooperation between the Laotian factions. The Pathet Lao sometimes professed willingness to cooperate but they were mostly concerned with strengthening their position politically and militarily. The rightists, encouraged by Thailand, Taiwan and some Americans plotted to undermine Souvanna. On 19 April 1964, a coup took place in Vientiane: Souvanna and prominent neutralists were arrested. The coup was implemented by General Kouprasith and Oun Sananikone was regarded as inspiring it.119 The State Department disapproved of the coup and Secretary of State Dean Rusk confirmed support for Souvanna.120 The British ambassador was able to see Souvanna who alleged that Thailand was deeply involved in the coup and that Oun Sananikone had visited Thailand and Taiwan. A young rightist general, Siho, was prominent in executing the coup and the British embassy reported that three South Vietnamese army officers had visited Siho’s headquarters during the coup. The American ambassador, Unger, acted resolutely and emphasised that the American government would not support a government established by those responsible for the coup.121 Pathet Lao forces took advantage of the instability to advance further and attack Kong Le’s forces in the Plain of Jars. Souvanna appealed to Britain


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and Russia to intervene; the British ambassador hoped that the Soviet government would intercede through approaching Souphanouvong.122 Souvanna announced fusion between the centre and moderate rightwing groups. James Cable observed that this could be salutary but the drawback was that Souvanna could be depicted as a rightist and this could alienate some neutralists.123 Denson, the British ambassador, saw Souvanna on 9 May 1964: Souvanna confirmed that his policy was unchanged and he had no intention of breaking with the Pathet Lao. He was confident that he could handle the moderate rightists after the merger.124 As regards unification of the armed forces, Souvanna indicated that neutralist forces would retain a separate identity but they would come under the authority of the chief of staff. The military situation deteriorated in May 1964, as the communist forces resumed their offensive against Kong Le’s neutralists, inflicting serious defeats on them. At a press conference held on 18 May, Souvanna produced documents taken from the bodies of dead North Vietnamese soldiers and said it was clear that Vietcong soldiers were participating in fighting. He added that he had lived with the Pathet Lao for two years and he knew how they operated – ‘He realised that this was a grave accusation against a signatory power of the Geneva Agreements but he was obliged to voice his objections to the actions of this power.’125 Souphanouvong told the French ambassador that his half-brother had joined the right wing and Kong Le was no longer a neutralist and had also aligned himself with rightists. He was, therefore, withdrawing the two Pathet Lao under-secretaries from the government in Vientiane. Souphanouvong remarked ‘We are against the United States and all the bad influences which they introduced here. America is the enemy of the people.’126 At this point allegations of intervention were made against Thailand, Taiwan, North Vietnam and China. Nikita Khruschev had expressed exasperation previously and developments between April and July 1964 pushed his patience to the limit. The foreign secretary, R.A. Butler, visited Moscow in July; he reiterated Britain desired peace and neutrality in Laos. Gromyko, the Soviet foreign minister, responded that AngloRussian cooperation was satisfactory in itself but that no improvement had occurred in Laos.127 When Butler met Khruschev, he repeated his request that Russia should persist, invidious as was the responsibility. Khruschev compared the Soviet position to that of a hook for hanging dogs on: he did not want to be the hook. He complained that ‘Laos was the devil’s own distance away.’ It was a sombre scene to contemplate: the Soviet Union had consented to act as co-chairman in circumstances that no longer obtained. Coalition government had failed and no one

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was observing the Geneva agreements. He was willing to abandon the co-chairmanship and leave Britain as sole chairman; Butler counselled against reaching a hasty decision.128 The JIC assessed Chinese strategic aims in Laos in August 1964. It reported that China wanted to eradicate American influence in Laos in the long term but in the short term China would support a settlement under which gradual extension of Pathet Lao influence would take place: this would maintain the DRV’s ability to send Vietcong into Laos.129 The chiefs of staff prepared a memorandum in September to assist the Foreign Office at a possible future international conference. Britain agreed with Souvanna and the American government that three conditions must be satisfied before a conference convened. These comprised securing a verified ceasefire; all military forces to be withdrawn to positions held on 1 February 1964; recognition and support for Souvanna’s neutralist administration. After the assassination of the left-wing foreign minister, Quinim Pholsena, in April 1963, senior Pathet Lao ministers had transferred to their own headquarters on the Plain of Jars. The Geneva agreements of 1962 had been accepted by the Laotian government on the basis that Laos rejected protection by outside powers, including SEATO. Accordingly, SEATO was not involved in plans for intervention but the United States developed its own plans for military action if required. It was unlikely that the Johnson administration would tolerate an increase in Pathet Lao influence. The Soviet Union was weary of Laos and could no longer influence China’s policy. The ICC had achieved little and could disintegrate. Russia wanted effective neutralisation of the former French colonies in Indochina to block Chinese expansion and remove the threat of direct confrontation between Chinese and American forces. China probably possessed enough influence with the DRV and the Pathet Lao to prevent escalation to the point where the United States could be forced to act. Creeping advance by the Pathet Lao was favoured by China, not rapid advance. From a narrow interpretation Laos was not important to Britain but it was significant in the wider context of British interests in Southeast Asia. In reply to a question posed by the Foreign Office, the chiefs of staff commented that developments in the near future could range from extension of current Pathet Lao operations to a war similar to that waged in Korea.130 In his annual report for 1964, the ambassador in Vientiane, Donald Hopson, stated that the admittedly shaky foundations of the Geneva agreements had collapsed – ‘Humpty Dumpty cannot be put together again.’131 Despite doubts at the time, Hopson believed that Souvanna


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Phouma was correct in merging the neutralist and right-wing forces because it offered the only chance of preserving the Geneva façade. Developments in Vietnam would be vital for Laos and it was vital that the United States should extricate itself from Vietnam. Accelerating American action against Vietcong supply routes could drag Laos directly into the Vietnam conflict. Britain had limited flexibility and should support Souvanna since he was indispensable. James Cable told Hopson that the Foreign office agreed with his analysis.132 In his valedictory despatch, sent a few months later, Hopson concluded that all concerned in Laos shared responsibility for the crisis. The principal difficulty resulted from the refusal of the Pathet Lao to integrate its zone: this was linked to Vietcong activity and the use of trails extending from North Vietnam through Laos. American actions contributed to the crisis through assistance to Meo and Yao tribesmen, advanced in part via Air America, a private company serving the American military: Meo guerrilla forces deep inside the Pathet Lao ‘liberated zone’ were supplied by Air America.133 Could Laos survive? This depended almost entirely on American policy: a loose federal system could be created, permitting internal autonomy to individual provinces but this would depend on the kind of solution reached in Vietnam. The challenge for Britain could be defined succinctly – ‘all we could do was to try to maintain the façade of the agreements, and keep the mess in Laos manageable’.134 F.A. Warner, Hopson’s successor, reported similarly in July 1965. British ability to influence events, never great, had declined since 1961. Britain was too identified with the United States and was itself preoccupied with the dispute with Indonesia. Basically, Laos was now subsumed within the conflict in Vietnam.135 James Cable, who had handled so much of the business relating to Southeast Asia since 1954, replied that the co-chairmen enjoyed far less influence than formerly because of the roles played respectively by the United States and China. Between 1954 and 1961, it was in the interest of the DRV to urge compliance with the Geneva agreements; the United States, which had detested the agreements, was now starting to talk of returning to the accords of 1954. Cable reflected sadly: The tragedy of it all, of course, is that we shall probably end up with a much worse situation than would have been created by the implementation of the 1954 Agreement. That, as we saw at the time, entailed writing off Viet-Nam by permitting elections which everyone expected the Communists to win; neutralising Cambodia and Laos and holding Malaya and Thailand. That would not only have

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given us a politically defensible line in South East Asia but we might also have had the enormous bonus of a Titoist Vietnam, for Ho Ch Minh would have gained power by his own efforts and would [have] had more reason to resist Chinese domination than Tito had to resist Russian. Moreover though it would have been deeply unpalatable to the Americans to write off Viet-Nam in 1954 or 1956, this would not then have constituted a major American defeat. Viet-Nam would just have been another of the casualties of European colonialism.136 Cable could see little that Britain could contribute to improving matters in Indochina. This interesting reflection reminds us of certain documents emanating from a decade or so earlier when speculation arose over reaching an accommodation with Ho Chi Minh. Such possibilities were doomed by inflexible American policy, devoid of the discrimination and subtlety desired by Cable and others: this discussion of British policy towards Laos between 1955 and 1965 ends on a negative note. Vast quantities of time were expended by British diplomats in futile efforts to achieve stability in Laos. The peoples of Laos were unfortunate in that the geographical location of Laos attracted the attention of so many different countries and agencies, few, if any, of which were motivated by genuine concern for Laos and its inhabitants. The monarchy did not help, since the two kings of this era were trying to consolidate the institution in a recently created state and lacked political skills. Souvanna Phouma was the sole, able politician and he could achieve only so much without adequate support, domestically and internationally. The economy was very backward and the intervention of outside powers exacerbated problems. In the main, Britain cooperated reasonably well with Russia. Deep tensions existed within the AngloAmerican relationship, particularly during the Eisenhower administration. Ministers and officials disapproved of the activities of the CIA and some American army officers: it was suspected that they pursued agendas of their own and undermined the constructive initiatives coming from the Kennedy administration. China did not want a bigger regional conflict to occur before the escalation in Vietnam but it did wish to eliminate American influence in Indochina. The Sino-Soviet dispute pushed China into greater assertiveness to reduce Soviet power. Taiwan intervened to challenge the PRC and encourage adherents of the KMT in Southeast Asia with support from some Americans opposed to the policy of the Kennedy administration. Thailand and South Vietnam interfered with encouragement from certain Americans. North Vietnam needed support from the Pathet Lao and use of the Ho Chi Minh Trail


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to fulfil its goal of unification. French influence had declined but the return to power of General de Gaulle brought a distinct, idiosyncratic voice to pronouncements. De Gaulle favoured bold, rather harsh statements, conveying firm disapproval of American policy. Diplomats in the Quai d’Orsay preferred a more conciliatory approach. Laos was incapable of defending itself and was a conspicuous victim of the extension of the Cold War to Asia. The sad truth in 1965 was that Britain could do nothing to save Laos.

7 Britain, Thailand and the Philippines, 1945–65

During the nineteenth century Thailand adjusted pragmatically to the menace of Western imperialism. Extraterritoriality was accepted and treaty ports existed, as in China and Japan; Thailand did not regain full control of its economy until 1937. As in East Asia, foreign advisers were appointed and British influence was extended in this way. Pressure was also exerted by France: Thailand maintained independence through employing a combination of playing the Western powers against each other and making judicious concessions when necessary. Until 1932 absolute monarchy prevailed: in that year a revolution occurred when a coalition of leftist intellectuals and disgruntled army officers implemented a coup designed to restrict the power of the monarchy and introduce a constitution.1 Two of the leading conspirators were to dominate Thai affairs in the years ahead – Phibul Songkram and Pridi Phanomyong. Phibul was an ambitious young army officer of autocratic bent: he disliked traditional monarchy and was determined to curb its role. He wished to reform Thailand and foster a new nationalism, inspired in part by the achievements of Japan since the Meiji restoration; he was not deeply committed to constitutionalism and regarded the army as the key institution. Pridi advocated socialism and put forward radical proposals in 1932 for transforming Thai society through redistribution of resources. Some of his critics accused Pridi of promoting communism: this was erroneous, although Pridi later lived in China after he was removed from office in 1947. Pridi was a pragmatic reformer who wanted to see Thailand evolve into a Western-style constitutional monarchy with the army serving the state. Phibul believed that the rise of Japan during the 1930s meant that Thailand should adjust to reality and modify its relations with Britain and France. Pridi looked to the democratic ideals espoused in London and Paris, which offered better 188


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means of containing militarism. Phibul and Pridi cooperated uneasily in government as the storm clouds gathered in Europe and Asia in the later 1930s.2 Confrontation between Japan and the democracies came to a head in 1941 and Thai leaders manoeuvred to avoid committing themselves prematurely to either side. The weakness of Britain and France meant that there was little choice. When Japan attacked Malaya and Pearl Harbor in December 1941, Thailand was invaded: after a brief token resistance Thailand capitulated and acknowledged Japanese dominance. In January 1942, Thailand declared war on Britain and the United States; Phibul regarded the decision as essential to placate Japan but Pridi, as foreign minister, disapproved. The responses of Britain and the United States were contrasting and this was important for postwar developments. Britain was outraged and held that Thailand was assisting Japan in the demolition of the British Empire in Asia. British ministers, whether Conservative, Labour or Liberal, believed that Thailand must be punished once Japan had surrendered. Franklin Roosevelt and his colleagues felt that Thailand acted at Japanese instigation and that a lenient policy was appropriate. Thailand should return territories removed from Burma, Malaya and Indochina but punishment should be limited.3 China, under the direction of Chiang Kai-shek, also favoured leniency. France advocated a tough approach. A ‘Free Thai’ (or ‘Free Siamese’) movement appeared during the Pacific War, formed originally by the Thai minister in Washington, Seni Pramoj. This represented the aspirations of those wishing to repudiate alliance with Japan and to restore relations with the West.4 British intelligence agents deduced that ‘there is undoubtedly a greater regard for the Americans than the British’ among Thais sympathetic to the allied powers.5 This was attributed to superior American propaganda and failure to define British objectives. It was reported that Pridi regretted that the British did not trust him.6 It was true that the Americans were more sympathetic, especially after Phibul’s fall in August 1944: this is illustrated in papers circulated to the cabinet by the deputy prime minister (Attlee) in February 1945.7 The abrupt end to the Pacific War, in August 1945, meant that the Free Thai movement had not contributed significantly to the expulsion of Japan from Thailand. British ministers and officials welcomed the initiative of Seni Pramoj and Pridi but it did not dissuade them from contemplating a harsh settlement for Thailand. Given the appreciable divergence in approach between the British and the American governments, it is surprising that the British were not better prepared for the arguments that erupted after Japan’s surrender. Esler Dening, political adviser to Admiral Mountbatten, was

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the principal British official conducting negotiations with Thai representatives in the latter part of 1945. Dening was an able man but he handled discussions arrogantly. Correspondence addressed by Dening to Thai ministers was later strongly criticised by the British minister in Bangkok, Geoffrey Thompson.8 The ‘Heads of Agreement’ drafted in Whitehall stated that The attitude of His Majesty’s Government towards Siam will depend on the degree of her co-operation in matters arising out of the termination of hostilities against Japan, and on her readiness (a) to make restitution to His Majesty’s government and their Allies for the injury done to them in consequence of Siam’s association with Japan and (b) to ensure security and good-neighbourly relations for the future.9 Thailand must repudiate the declaration of war issued on 25 January 1942 and recognise ‘as null and void all acquisitions of British territory made by Siam later than the 7th December 1941’.10 References to strategic and economic issues included a requirement that Thailand should recognise ‘the importance of Siam to the defence of Malaya, Burma, India and Indo-China and the security of the Indian Ocean and South West Pacific areas’.11 A canal linking the Indian Ocean and the Gulf of Siam could not be constructed without prior agreement with Britain. A new trade agreement should be concluded. The allied military authorities would possess the right to station troops on Thai territory with assistance from Thai forces. In total, the terms were oppressive and amounted to reimposition of informal imperialism. Serious food shortages in Southeast Asia meant that it was imperative to obtain supplies of rice from Thailand and the British envisaged considerable quantities being supplied free. The United States firmly disapproved of much of British policy and fraught exchanges took place between Washington and London. Dening was anxious to conclude the negotiations in December 1945 rapidly and was frustrated by Thai prevarication while the Thais enlisted American support. Concessions were made by the British following American representations and certain of the more stringent terms were modified. The amended agreement was signed on 1 January 1946.12 Dening was under great pressure amidst the heavy demands of the difficult situation in Indonesia in which he was deeply involved; his sense of exasperation was clearly revealed in some of his communications with Thai officials. He told the Foreign Office on 14 January 1946 that he had returned from Bangkok ‘much impressed by


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the abysmal state of political turpitude into which the country has fallen’.13 The caretaker government was ‘a collection of rabbits’. Dening was less impressed with Pridi than he had anticipated: Pridi was ‘an intriguer rather than a real statesman’ and was ‘sitting on the fence’.14 He criticised American and Chinese policies – ‘American sentimentality and American commercial jealousy are likely to institute a derogatory rather than a stimulating effect. China’s new interest in Siam is alarming the latter and it would not be surprising to discover that Chinese [are] fishing in troublesome waters.’15 Britain’s assertiveness was deplored by progressively minded service personnel, illustrated in a letter to the New Statesman published on 9 February 1946. Squadron-Leader J. Lucas of the Royal Air Force (RAF), writing from Rangoon, commented on his service in Thailand and his respect for the peoples of Thailand. In his opinion, Britain should be working to strengthen democratic forces instead of inviting a nationalist backlash. Lucas added that it was widely held in Southeast Asia that Britain had acted most arrogantly. In an observation not calculated to appeal to Dening, Lucas recommended that arrogant officials should be replaced ‘by men of better diplomatic calibre, of greater common sense’.16 The editor of the New Statesman inserted a note, stating that the newspaper had received letters from three other British officers expressing similar sentiments. A.C. Adams of the Foreign Office conceded the point, commenting that such views typified service opinion in Asia.17 As the British Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) remarked in January 1946, Britain persisted in regarding Thailand as a satellite state of Japan whereas the United States deemed Thailand to be a liberated territory: Dening’s preoccupation with events in Java meant that he could not concentrate wholeheartedly on Thailand and this allowed Thai officials time and scope to argue that Britain was attempting to gain complete military, economic and political control.18 The JIC drew attention subsequently to possible dangers of subversion associated with the Chinese community in Thailand, which numbered three million out of a total population of 16 million.19 This was part of a broad JIC survey of the Chinese communities in Southeast Asia, which was in response to interest in the region displayed by the Kuomintang (KMT) regime in Nanking. The territories occupied by Thailand with Japanese support were returned to Britain and France but the hopes, entertained in London and Paris, that Thailand would have to atone for wartime blunders by accepting British and French intervention were frustrated by American support for Thailand. As regards internal politics in Thailand, the situation began to change in a direction not desired at the time by the British government. Ernest

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Bevin and his colleagues hoped that the militant nationalism associated with Phibul had vanished and that forces representing liberal democracy would develop successfully. Such aspirations centred on Pridi who appeared to represent the future as Phibul represented the past. Events in 1946 transformed matters so that in 1948 Phibul engineered his return to power as a friend of the West while Pridi fled into exile ending eventually in Peking. Pridi’s fall was the result of controversy surrounding the mysterious death of King Ananda in June 1946. The king had not lived in Thailand since the overthrow of absolute monarchy in 1932; instead, the monarch and his immediate family lived in Switzerland. The monarchy was regarded with profound respect by most Thais, which explained why Phibul and Pridi had to act with some discretion, although neither viewed the monarchy with enthusiasm. Some members of the royal family wished to return to the situation obtaining before the revolution of 1932. On 9 June 1946, King Ananda died as a result of a bullet entering his head: speculation grew as to whether his death was attributable to murder, suicide or accident. As prime minister and, until recently, regent, Pridi was centrally involved in dealing with the aftermath. His numerous critics seized on the tragedy to blame Pridi for the king’s demise and Phibul exploited Pridi’s embarrassment to undermine him. Part of the difficulty lay in ascertaining what had transpired when the fatal shot was fired and this rendered investigation more delicate. Space precludes discussing the subject in detail: the significance of the death of King Ananda is that in the short to medium term it facilitated the return of the military to power but in the longer term it enabled King Bhumibol to rebuild the prestige of the monarchy and encourage a new constitutionalism. A British army intelligence survey from Bangkok stated that many rumours were circulating and comprehension was not advanced by the confused response of the authorities. Pamphlets were distributed alleging that the king had been murdered on Pridi’s orders; Pridi had resigned and then formed another administration.20 A special investigative committee was appointed to inquire into the circumstances of King Ananda’s death. The British minister met the foreign minister on 28 June and reported ‘Although he did not actually say so, the Minister for Foreign Affairs gave me the impression that he had come to the conclusion that the tragedy had resulted from some sinister intrigue or quarrel within the Royal Palace itself.’21 The atmosphere in Bangkok was tense and the British minister drew an analogy with his experience elsewhere in the preceding decade – ‘General atmosphere is to me very reminiscent of Franco Spain towards the end of 1937 and in retrospect when the Gestapo were spreading their sinister influence throughout


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the country.’22 Pridi and his supporters tried to stabilise the situation without success. Pridi’s position weakened but some time elapsed before his removal was accomplished. Thompson, the minister, respected Pridi and held that his departure would be detrimental to British interests. Pridi gave up the post of prime minister and he was assigned the title of ‘Senior Statesman’; in effect, the government comprised his nominees. He wanted help from Britain and visited London in December 1946. Pridi was on a world tour: he had visited China, the Philippines and the United States; after consulting British ministers he intended going to France, Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden, Russia, Egypt, India and Burma before returning to Bangkok. His tour was designed to raise the profile of Thailand. As regards the new monarch, Pridi wished to persuade him to return to Thailand from Switzerland. A brief for Clement Attlee recommended that the prime minister should convey appreciation of Pridi’s assistance during the war and emphasise Britain’s desire for good relations.23 Pridi toured Britain with a schedule considered strenuous in Whitehall; he was received with particular warmth in Birmingham where the lord mayor made a particular effort to ensure success.24 Receptions were organised by British political parties and it was noted that the Liberal party moved faster than the Labour party in organising an event.25 Pridi was entertained at Buckingham Palace by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth. His visit was successful and it was clear that the Attlee government wanted Pridi to retain political influence. The question as to how far Britain would go in backing Pridi would soon be tested decisively. Phibul was intriguing to restore his power. The British minister, Thompson, commented that Phibul might return with the support of the Democratic party (opposed to Pridi) or the army. The wife of the American minister had invited Phibul’s wife to call and Thompson pondered American intentions. Stanton, the American minister, denied that his government wished to see Phibul restored to power; he added that the local branch of the KMT was flirting with Phibul. 26 Thompson spoke to the Thai prime minister and argued that ‘we did not fight the war to see the reestablishment of a fascist regime headed by an arch- collaborator with the Japanese’.27 Phibul’s professed admiration for democracy was ‘an insult to the intelligence of the outside world’.28 The prime minister replied that Phibul enjoyed some support in the army but it was impossible for him to secure office constitutionally. Thompson met Pridi on 28 March 1947 when the latter expressed apprehension at political developments. He had encountered a great deal of personal hostility on his return from his world tour and he had decided to resign

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his seat in parliament and retire, at least temporarily. Pridi added that ‘the ghost of the late King still walked’ to his disadvantage – ‘He feared that Siam was heading for grave internal trouble sooner or later.’29 He assured Thompson that whether in office or not, he would remain ‘a friend of England’.30 Pridi confirmed that Phibul was supported by the Democratic party and by some members of the royal family. The American State Department disclaimed enthusiasm for Phibul’s return because of his ‘fascist inclinations’ but did not want to make formal representations in Bangkok.31 Thompson observed mordantly to Bevin that Phibul’s ‘main support lies with the military who as is so often the case in South America are capable of almost any imbecility’.32 Matters moved in Phibul’s favour: the combination of the repercussion’s of King Ananda’s mysterious death, opposition to Pridi from the Democratic party and the army’s support overwhelmed Pridi and his followers. On 9 November 1947, the army implemented a coup and this was followed by a ruthless purge of Pridi’s supporters. Phibul sent two army officers to see Thompson in a bid to reassure Britain: Thompson replied that the news would come as a shock in London and Washington.33 Pridi and the prime minister, Admiral Thamrong, at first expressed determination to resist the coup: most of the navy supported Pridi. If the contemplated counter-coup failed, Pridi asked if he could be given asylum in Malaya.34 Phibul engineered the appointment of a new government led by Nai Khuang with the founder of the Free Thai movement and leader of the Democratic party, Seni Pramoj, as minister of justice. The Foreign Office concluded that the coup was the product of encouragement from some members of the royal family, of dissatisfaction within the Democratic party and of the army’s determination to support Phibul and curb the influence of the navy. 35 Phibul possessed the upper hand and support for Pridi crumbled. Pridi’s life was threatened and he went to the house of the British naval attaché, seeking asylum. With the approval of the British minister, the attaché helped Pridi to escape from Bangkok. Thompson felt that the obligation to Pridi was now discharged –‘So far as I am concerned he will have to paddle his own canoe henceforth.’36 Pridi wished to stay in Malaya but the British authorities there were opposed on the grounds that his left-wing sympathies could encourage the Malayan Communist Party (MCP). Thompson dismissed the fears entertained in Singapore: Pridi was on the left and probably would prefer moderate Chinese communists to the KMT but he was a genuine friend of Britain. The suggestion of security personnel in Malaya that Pridi might be a communist was ‘pitiful twaddle’.37 Lord Killearn, the commissioner-general in Southeast Asia, consulted the governors


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of Singapore and Malaya. They were influenced by the assessment of Dalley, the local head of intelligence, that ‘Pridi was closely allied with Chinese Communists in Siam and that therefore he might become a stimulus to Communist activity here.’38 Malcolm MacDonald proposed that Pridi be permitted to live in Britain; Richard Allen minuted that Pridi could live quietly in Virginia Water in Surrey (later to be the involuntary temporary home of the former Chilean dictator, General Pinochet) on condition that he refrained from political intrigue.39 For the time being Pridi remained in Singapore. The Home Office agreed that Pridi and his family could dwell in Britain; however, the problem was that he could be extradited back to Thailand if legal action by the new Thai government succeeded. The former naval attaché, Captain Dennis, was still in Thailand before assuming a new post as consul in southern Thailand; he was in contact with Pridi and he informed British intelligence that Pridi was a socialist, not a communist, but that Pridi might ‘pander’ to the Chinese communists. Dennis added that Pridi was currently in China living near Nanking.40 His decision to go to China marked the end of close association with Britain. The communists conquered mainland China in 1948–49 and Pridi chose to live in Peking. As Dennis had observed, he was not a communist but he decided to stay in China so that he could maintain close contact with Thailand. It was clear that Britain had decided, if reluctantly, to endorse Phibul because Thailand needed a ‘strong man’ as favoured by the United States. Pridi long remained an enduring source for speculation for a possible return to power in circumstances that could not be foreseen. After a brief phase of cooperation between Phibul and the Democratic party, Phibul took power directly in April 1948. It was decided that Britain should extend de facto and de jure recognition, provided that Phibul’s government gave firm assurances regarding observance of international obligations.41 Esler Dening anticipated this development in January when he conveyed his view of Phibul: There is in fact no difference between a double-crosser in the East and in the West ... I see no reason to believe any of Pibul’s protestations. He will act according to what he considers his own interests. It may be that we shall find ourselves driven to recognition through the attitude of the Americans. But expediency is not invariably the best policy and we may see ourselves regretting that we succumbed to it.42 Phibul used the army as his power base internally and seized on American support to consolidate his position. At the end of February 1949 Pridi’s

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followers attempted a coup in Bangkok with the support of marines but it was quickly suppressed. Thompson reported that the coup was backed by the ‘Free Thais’ from the wartime era but it was disturbing that ‘certain Chinese have been caught fighting with prominent Pridi rebels’; this showed that it would not be in Britain’s interest for Pridi to regain power.43 Four prominent supporters of Pridi, former ministers, were shot ‘while attempting to escape’: this was a serious development and widely deplored.44 There was an emotional response from former Office of Strategic Services (OSS) personnel who had worked intimately with the Free Thai movement: they included Alexander MacDonald, who edited the Bangkok Post, and Major Jim Thompson who visited the American minister ‘with tears pouring down his face’.45 Ernest Bevin indicated concern and requested information46: Robert Scott summarised the essential features.47 Scott wrote to Geoffrey Thompson at the beginning of April defining British aims: these encompassed maintenance of rice supplies and cooperation on the Thai-Malayan border to frustrate the MCP. Scott added that Phibul’s attacks on Pridi’s followers were very regrettable and occasioned a visit to the Foreign Office by Colin Mackenzie, formerly of Force 136. He thought that discreet representations might be made to Phibul.48 Thompson responded by defining the new situation. The priority lay in coping with the present and the future rather than dwelling on the past. The communist menace in Southeast Asia was real and policy must be shaped accordingly. Phibul should be supported because he represented the best prospect for blocking communism in Thailand. Few of Pridi’s supporters were communists, although Pridi was attracted intellectually by communism. Thompson had spoken to the Thai foreign minister regarding detention of a former Thai minister in London and he was willing to make representations on other individuals.49 Thompson became more critical of his own government’s policy in 1949. He sent rather acrimonious letters to Scott on 30 November and 16 December. In the first he lamented cooling in Anglo-Thai relations, which he attributed to declining British power, disapproval of British support for Bao Dai in Indochina and of British intention to recognise the People’s Republic of China (PRC) following Mao’s triumph. He also referred to the repercussions of devaluation by the Attlee government, which, apart from other aspects, reduced the value of Thai deposits held in London by approximately 30 per cent: Thailand had relied on their deposits ‘as partial backing for their currency’.50 In the second letter Thompson reiterated earlier arguments and ended that he found Scott’s comments to be ‘extremely irritating’. Britain had taken Thailand for


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granted and had not done enough to help the Thais in their recent difficulties – ‘If I may say so, you and your department should realize rather more clearly than is apparently the case, that the art of diplomacy does not consist in taking everything from a foreign country and giving as little as possible in return.’51 The communist victory in China stimulated discussion of communism in Thailand. The Economist published a leading article on 25 March 1950: Phibul controlled Thailand and Pridi was believed to be in Canton: ‘... Pibul is in the saddle and is pursuing a policy which deserves the fullest encouragement and support from the West.’52 The Chinese community in Thailand was large and was in the process of transferring loyalty from the KMT to the communists. On 29 March, The Times produced a report from a special correspondent, reviewing Thailand’s position. The Thai Communist Party was small and insignificant; the two communist newspapers in Bangkok enjoyed a total circulation of around 2,000 while other papers had a circulation of at least 5,000. No communist leader was known to the people nor, as far as was known, was there a prominent Thai communist trained in Moscow. But if communism advanced in Asia, Thai attitudes would adjust to the prevailing winds.53 The insurgency in Malaya accentuated anxiety in London and Singapore. British defence planners contemplated possible seizure of Songkhla on the Kra isthmus in the event of a communist takeover in Thailand. Familiar debates from 1940–41 were revisited. Timing was crucial and it was unlikely that communist success would be accomplished in one dramatic step: it was probable that a Thai government would adjust gradually and reach an accommodation with the forces in the ascendancy. Naturally, this rendered it difficult to determine when military action should be taken.54 The Foreign Office held that there was a danger that local military authorities in Singapore might seek to act when decisions must be made in London. J.O. Lloyd observed, on 6 January 1951, ‘The decision to invade Southern Siam without the consent of whatever Gov[ernmen]t was in power there is a political issue of major importance and it would be quite irregular for BDCC(FE) to be given discretion to put such a move in train. The all-clear must come from HMG and in point of fact it could be given, after approval by Ministers, at very short notice.’55 The Foreign Office noted that a Chinese member of the Thai Communist Party had applauded the endeavours of the Vietminh and welcomed the prospect of communist pressure being applied against Thailand. An item in the Cominform Journal, published in Bucharest on 1 December 1950, called on all classes in Thailand to create a national democratic united front against American imperialism and ‘Fascist lackeys’ plotting


to transform Thailand into an American military base. The Foreign Office warned the British minister in Bangkok ‘All this suggests that Siam may be next on the list after Indo-China for Communist domination and that the Communists may then intend to use it as jumping off place against Malaya.’56 In his annual report for 1950, the new minister, Richard Whittington, remarked on continuing tension between regime and monarchy: neither Pridi nor Phibul liked the latter and Phibul could engineer dynastic change in certain circumstances. From Britain’s viewpoint Phibul’s leadership was salutary: rice supplies continued and some action was taken to hinder the MCP in border areas. In the light of the difficulties experienced by the UN in Korea following Chinese intervention, some in Thailand questioned the wisdom of alignment with the West. AngloAmerican support for Phibul was important.57 An abortive coup in July 1951 underlined the potential for instability. Phibul then decided to dissolve parliament and implement a coup of his own on 29 November 1951; the existing constitution was replaced with the constitution of 1932. The timing of the coup was reported to have annoyed the royal family, since it occurred on the king’s return from Switzerland, as his vessel was escorted in the Gulf of Siam. The effect of the coup was to consolidate the authority of Phibul and his associates, including two who were to be prominent in future, Sarit and Phao.58 A new constitution was promulgated on 8 March 1952. British diplomats interpreted this as a setback for the monarchy; corruption was growing and the generals were involved deeply in various business enterprises. 59 Geoffrey Wallinger, the British ambassador, was unimpressed with Sarit and Phao: Sarit’s ‘comprehension of international affairs is, I should judge, virtually nil’.60 For the time being Phibul was in command and determined to develop cooperation with the United States, despite resentment among his colleagues at American interference. American activity included provision of supplies to the KMT units in Burma and help for KMT remnants in northern Thailand.61 The appointment of ‘Wild Bill’ Donovan as American ambassador to Thailand occasioned unease among diplomats in Bangkok, according to Wallinger. He described Donovan as suave and mild in manner; so far he was acting reasonably but ‘there appear to be certain personal hangers-on whose activities are less liked by the [US] Embassy’s regular personnel’.62 Wallinger met Donovan for a lengthy discussion on 24 September 1953: he explained issues relating to the Thai-Malaya border and their relevance to the campaign in Malaya. He indicated that it was difficult to achieve a fruitful understanding with the Thais on


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intelligence. Donovan commented that it had not taken him long to discover that ‘Thai ideas of the meaning of intelligence were extremely primitive’.63 He revealed much interest in Burma: ‘It seemed, he said, a great pity that we had not been able to make use of the excellent material available among the Karens and Kachins. I made no comment but it is clear that the General has not yet outgrown his OSS mentality.’64 Wallinger emphasised British anxiety regarding the presence of KMT units or remnants in Burma, Thailand and Laos. Donovan replied that he was willing to assist in resolving problems, which was not the ideal undertaking from the British viewpoint. The British and the Americans were concerned at the potential threat to the Thai government and Western security posed by the unstable economic and social conditions prevailing in north-east Thailand. The five provinces comprising this region had been neglected by successive administrations. The population numbered approximately two million Thai nationals plus around 60,000 Vietnamese who had entered Thailand in 1946–47. The Vietnamese had been infiltrated comprehensively by the Vietminh. The local Thais tended to be followers of Pridi, which was explicable through the support extended to him by prominent regional figures.65 General Phao, the head of the Thai police, was in charge of the frontier: this caused speculation as to Phao’s ambitions. A further complication was that the ‘Thai Autonomous Government’, established as a border region to represent the interests of Thai peoples by China, was due to start functioning soon and it could prove a subversive factor. Pridi’s presence as an exile in China created additional concern. Chinese interest in causing trouble was exaggerated but the poverty and degradation inherent in the north-east remained a source of alarm for a long time, particularly in the light of the situation in Laos. The JIC devoted attention to assessing the communist threat in 1954. In a report submitted in February the JIC concluded that there was no likelihood of a communist movement emerging spontaneously: however, opportunism characterised Thailand’s past approach and if communist states applied sufficient pressure, Thai leaders might decide to work with them. Subversion was the principal threat and discontented groups could be targeted. A decision for British forces to occupy Songkhla required meticulous consideration; it was unlikely that such action, if implemented, would lead to war with China. By the standards of Southeast Asia the majority of Thais were relatively prosperous but conditions in the north-east were unsatisfactory and trouble could ensue. The JIC remarked on parallels with debates in 1939–41, which had ended disastrously.66 Another assessment, compiled later in February, examined the wider impact of

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Thailand possibly going communist in the near future. This confirmed that the danger did not arise from a direct communist assumption of power but from decisions by a non-communist government in Bangkok to appease communist states. The importance of maintaining rice exports to British colonies was stressed.67 Towards the end of 1954 the JIC reviewed trends in Southeast Asia and deduced that communist states were likely to put pressure on Thailand after the establishment of Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO).68 General Sir Gerald Templer and Lady Templer visited Bangkok in May 1954; the general wished to discuss cooperation between Malaya and Thailand. They received a lavish welcome with entertainment organised by General Phao. Sir Berkeley Gage, the British ambassador, wrote that luncheon was served in a ‘plush coloured air-conditioned room’ with two vast air conditioning units ‘such as I have only seen in the refrigeration rooms of the stockyards at Chicago’. The meal was excellent and included first class French wine and champagne. Templer, Gage and Phao held a private session to review the efficacy of the Malayan–Thai police agreement of 1949. Templer referred to some minor problems which Phao agreed to investigate: in the main it was agreed that the police agreement was working successfully. Templer summarised constitutional developments in Malaya. He returned to the familiar theme of subversive elements infiltrating Thailand. Gage hosted a dinner after which Phao collected General Templer and certain male members of the party and took them on a tour of ‘Bangkok night-life’. Gage reflected ‘What we were shown can only be described as a combination of the Arabian Nights and Chicago in the mid-twenties.’69 After recovering from this exciting evening, Templer and Gage met Phibul and his wife. Templer’s visit was arranged at short notice, perhaps because of events in Indochina: Gage deemed it a success. Another distinguished visitor was Marshal of the RAF Sir John Slessor, now retired from high office. He visited Bangkok in September 1954 on his way to attend ‘Battle of Britain’ anniversary celebrations in Australia. King Bhumibol received Slessor and the latter provided a lucid summary of the international situation. Slessor explained regional challenges, underlining threats from sabotage, infiltration and subversion. The communists knew that they were blocked in Europe and that they would turn to other areas of which Southeast Asia was one. Living standards must be improved to diminish the appeal of communism to the masses. SEATO would constitute an important means of containing communist ambitions. The king concurred. Slessor met Phibul, Phao and the head of the Thai air force.70 On this occasion no reference


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is made to a night-time tour. The visits of Templer and Slessor were intended to convey British interest in Thailand and to stiffen Thai resolve in the desired direction: a further motive was probably to offer counter-balance to American activity. Prince Chula Chagrabonse was an articulate and independent-minded member of the Thai royal family living in Cornwall (he had belonged to the Home Guard during the Second World War). He had married a British woman and he was thus ineligible to succeed to the throne. The prince sometimes appeared as a member of the panel in the ‘Brains Trust’ programme on BBC television (another regular guest was the conductor, Sir Malcolm Sargent). Prince Chula lunched with Anthony Eden on 24 January 1955 and remarked on suspicion in government circles in Bangkok that the British were intriguing with the Thai opposition (the Democrats); the prince made a half-joking reference to British intelligence agents. He conveyed the warning that ‘Field Marshal Pibul was very sensitive and needed careful handling.’ Eden responded that he was looking forward to Phibul’s forthcoming visit to London. Eden repudiated suggestions of British involvement in intrigue – ‘Stories to the effect that we were unfriendly towards the present Siamese Government or were intriguing against them were completely untrue. He had always made it a cardinal rule in the conduct of foreign relations never to interfere in the internal affairs of other countries.’71 Eden underlined the importance of continuing cross-border cooperation to frustrate the MCP. F.S. Tomlinson minuted that Prince Chula was apparently on friendly terms with General Phao and this had to be kept in mind.72 The Foreign Office decided that Phibul’s reception must equal that given to Pridi in 1946 and that Phibul should meet Queen Elizabeth II. The permanent under-secretary, Sir Ivone Kirkpatrick, expressed sympathy for the monarch ‘It is, I fear, tiresome for the Queen. But I agree with the department’s advice.’73 The queen duly invited Phibul to lunch.74 His visit seemed to be successful but complaints were made afterwards that the foreign secretary, now Harold Macmillan, should have met Phibul at Heathrow. Macmillan replied that pressure of official business and the frequency of visits from foreign leaders precluded attendance at Heathrow.75 Phibul also visited the United States: a member of the embassy staff summarised American reactions – ‘Americans tend to think of Pibul, like Syngman Rhee, as a good fellow, one of “us”, even if he is rather excitable in his public utterances. In any case, the American public hears so many belligerent utterances by Right-wing Senators and Generals that they are unlikely to be particularly struck when similar remarks are made by a visitor.’76 Interestingly, however, publication of

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an article by an American journalist, reproduced in Bangkok, castigating corruption in Thailand, incensed Phibul and led him to criticise the Thai royal family for implicitly supporting the allegations.77 Factionalism within the Thai government caused much concern in 1956–57. Rivalry between Phibul and Phao on one side and Sarit on the other side threatened to destabilise the regime. Gage commented, in May 1957, that a powerful group within the army wanted Sarit to replace Phibul. Ironically, Phibul and Phao were now looking to Pridi for support, since Pridi could deliver leftist backing. Pridi’s wife had returned to Bangkok recently, which must have been approved by Phibul. Phao had launched a campaign against the royal family. The American embassy thought that Pridi’s return was imminent but the British embassy was not convinced: if Pridi did return, he would attract substantial left-wing support.78 When Gage met his American colleague, Max Bishop, a few days later, Bishop was less certain that Pridi would return but he intended seeking approval from Washington to warn Phibul against permitting Pridi to come back. Gage felt he should act similarly. The Foreign Office regarded it as a delicate matter and Britain should not be accused of interfering in domestic matters: at the same time Pridi’s lengthy sojourn in China rendered his return undesirable.79 The struggle within the junta attained a climax on 17 September when a coup resulted in the removal of Phibul and Phao and Sarit’s assumption of power.80 Army support meant that Sarit was installed in office where he stayed until his health collapsed in 1963. Sarit confirmed his wish to work with the West and it was clear that he was determined to succeed financially. The new British ambassador, Whittington, observed ‘I fear it is also becoming clear that Sarit as chief robber baron may in time prove a more expensive proposition than the rival firms of Pibul and Phao Inc.’ Information received ‘suggests that Sarit is taking over Phao’s rackets with great verve and enthusiasm’.81 The rackets were said to include control of remittances to China, Chinese immigration visas, an ice monopoly and a slaughter-house ‘squeeze’ on slaughter of pigs. Other rackets included a new military bank and opium. The Foreign Office wanted to ascertain the pattern of American aid. In July 1960, it was noted that Thailand had received $US 330 million for military purposes and $US 275 million for economic and technical assistance (including loans) within a decade. C.K. Curwen minuted that it was difficult to believe that either party had seen value for money. The Thai economy was quite buoyant but this would probably have occurred regardless of the provision of American aid. Curwen added ‘I have seen nothing to suggest that the Thai armed forces are really effective fighting units; and as one might expect ... the


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Thais are not particularly grateful.’82 Targeted expenditure comprised new strategic highways, improvements in railways, agriculture, health and industry; education and public administration were targeted but not as much as previous items. An earlier report from December 1957 listed success in eliminating malaria, developing new strains of rice, and in expanding technical training, road construction and stock breeding.83 Assessments of the efficiency of Thai armed forces forwarded by defence attaches in January 1958 were not encouraging. The Thai navy was described as a ‘musical comedy affair consisting of more Flag officers than there are ships’.84 Some junior officers were very capable but appointments to higher ranks were determined through a combination of ‘personalities, graft and corruption’.85 Senior officers wanted to make money before the next coup. The navy was handicapped by past support for Pridi. The military attaché criticised weaknesses in organization of the army. More emphasis should be placed on lighter equipment; training in guerrilla warfare and jungle warfare required careful attention. According to official Thai sources, the authorised strength of the army was 144,831 and actual strength was approximately 92,000: it was doubtful whether the latter figure was accurate and approximately 85,000 were probable. As in the navy, promotions were decided by ‘personalities, graft and corruption’.86 Younger officers were more competent but were blocked by entrenched superiors. Ordinary soldiers were courageous but required good training and leadership. The principal weakness was the poor standard of rifle shooting. Police strength was around 46,000 for all ranks: they were quite smart but graft and corruption affected all levels. The air force had 5,000 men. The head of the American military mission thought that once the army’s leadership and training had been improved, it should be capable of holding its own against the forces of Laos, Cambodia and South Vietnam. If a serious regional crisis arose, the Thai forces would require strengthening: The key to the defence of South East Asia is Thailand; and the vital part of Thailand is the Bangkok area with its port, airfields and communications. It would be unwise to count on the Thais providing any worthwhile resistance to a major attack by the Communist Chinese. If, however, the Thai Army is to be expected to ‘hold the fort’ until the main SEATO reinforcements arrive, then ... it would be essential to fly in some forces at the earliest possible moment to bolster-up the Thais.87 The air attaché stated that the air force possessed one good jet squadron of 30 efficiently maintained aircraft, 14 Dakotas and a few helicopters.

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American aid had strengthened the air force but it would not be advisable to expect the air force to fight on its own, even in the early stages of battle.88 The air attaché recommended keeping close liaison between the RAF and the Royal Thai Air Force, in part because some senior Thai officers promoted after the coup in 1957 were trained in Britain and respected the RAF. The political trend under Sarit was repressive and authoritarian. He replaced General Thanom as prime minister, dissolved political parties and trade unions and tightened the army’s grip. Sarit was strongly anticommunist and acted firmly against leftists. Communists were arrested and newspapers sympathetic to them were closed. Sarit participated personally in interrogation of suspects. He ordered the execution of Chinese suspected of arson, despite doubts as to their guilt – ‘nobody worried about a few Chinese more or less’.89 A ban was imposed on export and sale of Chinese goods (no doubt it could be circumvented by various means). Curwen noted that Sarit was part-Lao and this helped to explain Thai chauvinism towards Laos; the Laotian chief of staff, Phoumi, was his nephew.90 Although Sarit cracked down vigorously on communists at home, he flirted with the Soviet Union to secure more aid from the Americans. A TASS correspondent was allowed to enter Thailand in June 1960 and one of Sarit’s aides stated that there was no reason why relations with Moscow should be frozen.91 A new Soviet ambassador appeared in Bangkok in October 1959. Sarit was deeply annoyed at British policy towards Laos and this explained greater tension in Anglo-Thai relations. Resentment also extended to the king. When the retiring ambassador, ‘Dick’ Whittington and his wife paid a farewell call in May 1961, King Bhumibol criticised the weak policies pursued by Britain and France. Whittington told the Foreign Office that such views were common among politically aware Thais and that the Americans and Australians in Thailand spread the rumour that Britain and France were responsible for the mess in Laos whereas in reality it was the product of the stupidity of the Thais and their American supporters.92 Whittington referred to his disappointment at having been entertained to tea instead of the customary luncheon after driving 300 miles to the royal palace. The king and queen were personally amiable and presents were exchanged. The Foreign Office received the news stoically, consoled by the expressions of support for British policy received from India, Burma, Cambodia and other states. Fred Warner commented that complications resulted from the existence of SEATO and, in certain respects, he felt that ‘it has been an obstacle rather than a help to the Western cause’.93 The minister of state, Lord


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Lansdowne, observed that ‘the security risk of some of its members’ was ‘a dangerous weakness’ in SEATO.94 It was not feasible to explain to the Thais ‘the part which we played in trying to prevent US folly in Laos but if American and Australian officials were misrepresenting Britain’s position ‘I believe we should not suffer in silence’.95 The Eisenhower administration had proved most obdurate over Laos but the prospects were better with the Kennedy administration. When Whittington returned to London, Lansdowne met him on 10 July 1961 and discussed his despatch – ‘It was a gloomy session ... .’96 Alarm was felt, since it was arranged that Whittington should meet the prime minister, Harold Macmillan.97 Familiar problems arising from clandestine American support for KMT units or remnants operating in the border areas of Thailand, Burma and Laos resurfaced in 1961 and 1962. The British consul in Chiengmai met an American colonel in August 1961: they talked during a party when the colonel was ‘slightly drunk’. The latter was working with Thai army officers and they had just visited a KMT camp in Thailand. The colonel said that the KMT forces were receiving the latest American arms from Taiwan plus Japanese-made jeeps with American insignia, which could have come only from Taiwan. The KMT troops were described positively and the consul deduced that they had been in Laos recently. The conversation showed that sections of the American military were conniving with the Thais to promote KMT activity, despite assurances to the contrary received from the State Department.98 A year later a report appeared in the Bangkok Post that mystery aircraft were dropping supplies in Laos. The RAF was currently administering air traffic control in Chiengmai as part of British assistance via SEATO in northern Thailand. Wing Commander I.M. Pedder told the consul in Chiengmai that pilots whom he termed ‘mercenaries’ were flying various planes without markings and a number of small planes marked ‘United States’. The larger aircraft were evidently used for supply drops and the latest action by a C47 plane, on 21 September 1962, ‘appeared to be engaged in paratroop operations’.99 Officials in Whitehall contemplated a resumption of ritualistic exchanges with the State Department of the kind that had occurred over KMT activities since 1950. It was again a matter of British representatives raising appropriate questions, American representatives giving bland assurances and sections of the American military and intelligence services acting as they wished. The Thai military wanted good relations with their American supporters and Taiwan and were not interested in British anxiety. The Thai government’s determination to raise the image of their country was confirmed in a series

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of royal tours of Southeast Asia and Australia undertaken by the king and queen in the summer of 1963. In Taiwan, Chiang Kai-shek went to considerable lengths to impress his guests, underlining a sense of common purpose.100 The visit to the Philippines was successful, apart from certain lapses in protocol by Filipino leaders and controversy that President Macapagal had relied on wealthy Spanish businessmen to meet the cost.101 Sarit suffered from serious ill-health and it was revealed, in November 1963, that his condition was deteriorating rapidly; he died on 9 December. General Thanom took over as prime minister and minister of defence. Sarit did not leave the stage quietly: controversy raged over his will with an acrimonious dispute involving his two principal wives and numerous mistresses. A committee was appointed to examine the origins and nature of the vast sums in his private accounts.102 Thanom continued the policy of close cooperation with the United States. The British ambassador, Sir Dermot MacDermot, wrote that Thanom had enjoyed a smooth path to power; superficially, matters appeared much as before but undercurrents of change could be detected. ‘De-Stalinisation’ of Sarit developed as a consequence of revelations regarding his enormous wealth. An enhanced sense of public awareness could be seen and press criticism was conspicuous. On the whole, Anglo-Thai relations were better and Thai foreign policy was more constructive and less abrasive.103 Storm clouds were gathering in Vietnam and Laos: Thailand was inevitably involved in the repercussions. The British embassy reported in April 1965 that American jets were bombing North Vietnam from bases in Thailand: while not confirmed, it was deemed accurate104 American interest in northern Thailand intensified during 1965. The consul in Chiengmai stated that Air America and Bird & Company were flying supplies to Laos: secret wireless installations existed in Chiengmai; substantial American expenditure compensated for Thai resentment at foreign incursion. American advisers were prominent, ‘I suspect under CIA auspices’; schools were established in hill-tribe areas and helicopter platforms appeared in the same areas; Shan and Karen insurgents were less active; KMT remnants looked like remaining and KMT activity had occurred on the borders of Yunnan and Burma earlier in 1965 with logistic support from Taiwan. The consul’s American colleague predictably denied that the United States was assisting local KMT forces: the consul added that the most interesting development occurred on the Lao side of the Mekong where large numbers of Yao from northern Laos had arrived as part of a move probably ‘sponsored by an agency of the American Government’, which was supporting Yao and Meo guerrillas


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in northern Laos.105 As the conflict in Vietnam worsened, the JIC reassessed the position in Thailand in March 1966. The country appeared reasonably stable but there was evidence of Chinese interest in encouraging subversion: they seemed to be focusing on the Thai Patriotic Front as a vehicle for spreading subversion. Thai armed forces were more significant politically than militarily: they were capable ‘neither of countering political subversion nor of handling unaided any widespread insurgency’ which had gained momentum and was receiving external support.106 The Thai army possessed approximately 85,000 men; the navy around 20,000 men but the navy lacked enough vessels. The air force had approximately 175 operational aircraft. The Thai police forces totalled around 63,000 men. Northern and north-eastern Thailand were the areas most susceptible to subversion because of grave economic and social problems and a legacy of neglect from Bangkok. In southern Thailand approximately 670,000 Moslems comprised about 80 per cent of the local population and the communists were endeavouring to exploit discontent. The JIC added that Indonesia was pursuing operations designed to exploit Moslem discontent. Communism was proscribed in Thailand but a skeleton organization existed with membership drawn from the Chinese community: documents captured in October 1965 revealed rather more of an organisational structure than anticipated. China was spreading propaganda and subversion. A clandestine radio, the ‘Voice of Free Thailand’ was thought to be based in North Vietnam and could be heard more clearly in much of the country than official broadcasts. Pridi was the most active Thai leftist but there was no evidence that he was working with China other than the fact that he had met Mao Tse-tung in October 1965. The Chinese community in Thailand was better assimilated than elsewhere in Southeast Asia but there was evidence of attempts to subvert Chinese businessmen in Thailand.107 Relations between Britain and Thailand in the two decades after 1945 may be described as correct and somewhat distant. This resulted from the unwise British policy of penalising Thailand for cooperating with Japan. It would have been more sensible for Britain to have treated Thailand leniently and for British diplomats to have worked to strengthen Pridi’s position. Pridi represented those desiring a democratic approach and this was closer to British wishes than those representing right-wing groups and the army. It was unfortunate that his enemies exploited the mystery surrounding the death of King Ananda to undermine Pridi. American support for Phibul compelled Britain to go in the same direction and Pridi’s retreat to China did not persuade the British


to view him more favourably. Thereafter British power declined steadily while American influence expanded hugely. As American involvement in Vietnam escalated, so the British were relegated to the role of observers rather than participants in the affairs of Thailand.

The Philippines Britain had no specific interest in the Philippines, which had been a Spanish colony until the end of 1898, then an American colony until it was occupied by Japanese forces in 1942. The American publisher, C.L. Sulzberger, observed that the history of the Philippines was sometimes summarised succinctly as ‘four centuries of Spanish feudalism and fifty years of Hollywood’.108 The Philippines became more significant during the confrontation between Britain and Indonesia over the creation of Malaysia when the Philippines claimed British North Borneo: this will be discussed in the next chapter. British ministers and diplomats were interested in the impact of Ramon Magsaysay as secretary for defence and then president in the 1950s. The Philippines became an independent state in 1946 and it was linked closely to the United States: informal imperialism replaced formal imperialism. The trend in the later 1940s was not perceived as encouraging by British observers. The administration of President Elpidio Quirino was perceived as incompetent and corrupt. R.S. Milward reported on a visit in March 1949: graft and corruption were endemic. The labour force in the Visayan sugar plantations was discontented because of low wages and harsh oppression. Much unrest existed in the prominent rice-growing estates of central Luzon, north of Manila. The Hukbalahap movement was led by communists and thrived on the brutal treatment meted out by landowners. Trade agreements with the United States distorted the economy, so that some of those living in Manila enjoyed an artificially high standard of living. The Philippines possessed a wide range of raw materials and exports included sugar, fruits and coconuts. Hardwoods were common and various minerals, including gold and coal, were mined. Considerable tension could be discerned in relations with the Chinese community, which dominated retail trading, small banking and some other sectors. British firms were engaged in banking, insurance and shipping; the managers of American companies were frequently British nationals.109 Guy Burgess, the Foreign Office’s expert on Marxism–Leninism (in more ways than one) commented that the Huks were headed by communists but should be defined as ‘agrarian guerrillas’. He added that much of the trade union movement was communist-controlled.110


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Violence associated with the Huks worsened in 1949–50: in August 1950, they implemented a series of carefully planned and effectively coordinated attacks on policemen and police posts in central Luzon.111 Earlier in 1950 Burgess sent a letter to the Filipino minister in London calculated to depress the latter. He forwarded a copy of a recent speech by Liu Shao-ch’i, one of the leaders of the new Chinese Communist government, adding ‘Speaking purely personally, I think it foreshadows headaches for the future and contains as Communist programme utterances often do (just as Mein Kampf did) a blueprint of their first line of attack for the coming period – the union of labour agitation with Nationalist agitation in the Pacific and in Asia.’112 In his annual review for 1950, the British minister, L.H. Foulds, commented that efficiency in government was affected by the declining health of Quirino. Some friction in relations with Britain had occurred because of acts of piracy committed by the Moros (sea-faring people) against British North Borneo. Interference with British air services resulted from actions by the Civil Aeronautics Administration and this occasioned formal protests. The Filipino authorities caused difficulty over export of hemp and other commodities to Hong Kong. The United States Economic Survey Mission, headed by Daniel Bell, arrived in July 1950 and was alarmed at what was discovered. In essence the mission concluded that ‘the Philippines was bankrupt alike in finance, in leadership and in honesty’.113 Bell recommended that American aid should be extended to a total of $US 250 million under rigorous conditions, during a five-year period. On the positive side, Foulds applauded the appearance of a new, young, vigorous politician of unusual promise – Ramon Magsaysay. He was a congressman of relatively humble origins, appointed by Quirino to be secretary for defence in September 1950. Foulds commented ‘Some observers are suggesting that here is the new strong man of the Philippines who will be President one day. He certainly seems worth watching.’114 More worryingly he then reported that some Filipino politicians were displaying interest in the future (or fate) of British North Borneo and hoped that ‘they may some day be able to grab the territory’.115 Magsaysay was certainly being watched. American officials and intelligence personnel perceived him as probably the only Filipino politician capable of tackling the Huk rebellion effectively. The American most identified with Magsaysay was Colonel Edward Lansdale. In a letter written in November 1962, Lansdale wrote of his warm friendship and respect for Magsaysay. He added that it was important to defeat the Huk rebellion and ‘I acted as a sort of a catalyst to bring together

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some solutions to problems with American experts who could help.’ This entailed ‘a number of intelligence activities’, encouraging social and economic reform, training activities and ‘a wide spectrum of psychological operations’.116 Lansdale described Magsaysay as a man of profound integrity and courage: anyone attempting to bribe him was thrown out of his office. Outsiders thought that Lansdale controlled Magsaysay but the colonel remarked that they failed to understand that he was a man of independence and tenacity. Lansdale denied dispensing large sums of money to advance Magsaysay’s career and the anti-Huk campaign. Some rumours emanated from Magsaysay himself with the purpose of frightening opponents. Lansdale ended the letter with reiteration of the closeness of their cooperation: ‘Our relationship was so deeply personal and involved shared risks to such an extent that I find it extremely difficult to discuss with anyone who wasn’t there at the time.’117 An unsigned, undated note in Lansdale’s papers, evidently drafted in 1952, proposed that $US 500,000 should be provided for pursuance of psychological warfare in the Philippines; a cheque should be drawn in favour of Magsaysay, not the Filipino government. The transfer was necessary because allocation of funds for the next fiscal year was inadequate. Excessive bureaucracy and concomitant delay rendered it undesirable to use official channels in Manila. Freedom was essential to conduct ‘black propaganda’ – ‘US confidential funds do not run the risk of being influenced by local politics or politicians in their employment in psy-war.’118 Other requests in this memorandum included 60 sound tracks, 36 still cameras (35 mm), a printing press and 30 movie projectors. Unlike many Filipino politicians, Magsaysay resembled Harry Truman in being ‘a man of the people’.119 He viewed the Huk rebellion as fundamentally an agrarian problem, which must be resolved via a combination of economic and social reform plus carefully focused military operations.120 Magsaysay directed military operations with vigour and he seized the initiative. A number of high-ranking Huks were killed or captured. Growing numbers surrendered in 1951–52. Communists were detained and put on trial: some were sentenced to death.121 The armed forces of the Philippines comprised approximately 56,600 officers and men, divided into the army (43,000), the air force (3,600), the navy (3,000) and the constabulary (7,000). In theory military service was compulsory but in practice only a small number of young men were conscripted: there was no difficulty in attracting volunteers, largely from Luzon. In 1952, the American military mission consisted of 40 men under the command of a major-general; the bulk of the equipment was provided free under the current American aid programme. Political


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influence was strong in the armed forces.122 Lansdale and his colleagues believed that Magsaysay had made excellent progress in undermining the Huk campaign and the best way of maintaining progress was to see Magsaysay replace Quirino as president: British officials concurred. Magsaysay was a member of the Liberal party, headed by Quirino: the latter’s decision to stand again persuaded Magsaysay to switch to the Nacionalista party. The old guard of the Nacionalistas did not relish the zeal of the convert declaring simultaneously that he wished to be pope but the convert was undeniably very popular and the promise of the rewards of office exerted their customary seductive appeal. Magsaysay was duly nominated for president in 1953 and Quirino was also nominated. Magsaysay campaigned on a progressive platform, pledging to fight corruption, defeat rebellion and secure effective government.123 He proved a vigorous campaigner and enjoyed support from the Roman Catholic Church in addition to the Eisenhower administration. He gained a landslide victory in November 1953, also securing control of Congress with his allies in the Democratic party. The British minister in Manila described it as a decisive repudiation of the corruption and incompetence identified with the outgoing administration. Magsaysay’s campaign represented coalescence between Nacionalista old guard and the ambitious young men inspired by the challenger’s dynamism. Foreign policy was unlikely to change significantly and the main challenges lay in reinvigorating government and completing the defeat of the Huks.124 In his inaugural address, delivered on 30 December 1953, Magsaysay emphasised that the Philippines must rediscover the idealism which had inspired the drive for independence: he would work for the people and land reform would be implemented with reassessment of the land tenure system. He would fulfil defence cooperation with the United States, support the UN and would work with ‘our Asian brothers’ in improving education and health standards and eradicating poverty. The remnants of the Huk rebellion must be defeated and Huk leaders must repudiate ‘the lies of the Kremlin’. It was a relatively short address convincing in content and design.125 Considerable progress had been made in defeating the Huk rebellion before Magsaysay resigned as secretary for defence. A concise appraisal was prepared in the British War Office, in May 1953, by Major Miles Reinhold. He noted that the Huk movement originated before the Pacific war as an agrarian reform campaign before developing into a resistance movement during Japanese occupation. Communism gained control in the later 1940s and the Huks advocated a ‘people’s republic’ and an end to American imperialism. The leading personalities in the Huk

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leadership were Luis Taruc and Jesus Lava. According to official Filipino sources, the Huks had approximately 5,800 active members and 3,700 armed members. Huk tactics could be described as ‘a combination of the tactics that used to be employed by the tribesmen of the North-West Frontier of India and those employed by terrorists of today in Malaya’.126 The anti-Huk campaign succeeded through a mixture of the carrot and the stick. Huks who surrendered were given land and, as in Malaya, publicity was given to the advantages of coming to terms with the government. Those refusing to lay down arms would be suppressed militarily and punished suitably. For political reasons Quirino wanted a negotiated solution in 1952–53 but the talks collapsed in February 1953. The government resumed its military action but without inflicting decisive defeat; however, Huk morale was deteriorating. Developments in 1954 were more encouraging when Luis Taruc surrendered, following negotiations conducted by Benigno Aquino, a columnist on the Manila Times. The British minister reported that Taruc appeared fit and showed no signs of repentance; an official statement indicated that he had accepted the government’s terms and would stand trial.127 In essence the Huk rebellion had ended to the credit of Magsaysay. During his unfinished term, Magsaysay proved moderately successful. He was really an independent in politics and old guard Nacionalistas were alienated further, notably Senator Recto. The archbishop of Manila criticised the president for surrounding himself with ‘sycophants and intriguers’. Some feared that he might become a dictator but the British minister, now George Clutton, brushed aside such suspicions in his evaluation.128 The British response to Magsaysay was positive in Manila and Whitehall. Clutton could discern no one better and relations with the Philippines were good. Lord Reading, the minister of state in the Foreign Office, strongly supported a proposal that Magsaysay should be invited to visit Britain. Reading was impressed with his firm leadership: he met him when visiting Manila on SEATO business and liked him: they had conversed in ‘fluent American’.129 He added, significantly, that notwithstanding the support he received from American sources, Magsaysay desired more independence from the United States. Magsaysay became embroiled in sharp exchanges with Washington over the terms for the leasing of American bases in 1955–57. Dulles visited Manila in March 1956: Magsaysay wrote to him that he had deep faith in the United States but the Philippines required greater assistance to raise economic and social standards and ensure that the communists were defeated permanently.130 Dulles informed Eisenhower that he regarded the situation in Manila as rather unsatisfactory: Magsaysay had some ‘bad personal


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advisers’ and he was unduly sensitive to criticism.131 Apart from financial aspects, the question of criminal jurisdiction emerged as a contentious matter.132 The joint chiefs of staff deemed the bases essential to global strategy and believed that Eisenhower and Dulles should appreciate Filipino sensitivity.133 Speculation on Magsaysay’s future policy was brought abruptly and tragically to a close when the president, some of his colleagues and officials were killed when their aeroplane crashed into the side of a mountain, shortly after taking off on 17 March 1957. Rumours that sabotage had occurred were circulating but investigators concluded that the crash was the product of pilot error and overloading.134 Clutton described the late president as a great figure and an outstanding national leader. He was not an accomplished orator but he spoke with deep sincerity, which was recognised. He was a devout Roman Catholic and a man fundamentally of simplicity. He was irreplaceable, possessing the rare gift of direct, compelling communication with ordinary people– ‘He leaves behind him a legend of humanity and social justice attached to his name and that name, whatever his successors may do, will remain indelible in the memories of his people.’ Clutton found the funeral to be profoundly moving with enormous crowds lining the route: it had a certain informality, which complemented the late president’s style. ‘To sensitive Western susceptibilities it may be that this procession seemed lacking in dignity. I can only say that for my part I have rarely been so deeply moved or felt so close to the people among whom I have now lived for two years as on this day.’135 The State Department confirmed the highly emotional atmosphere and lamented the removal of the only leader capable of inspiring people and of propelling the country towards reform.136 Vice-President Carlos P. Garcia succeeded Magsaysay but he was dismissed as easily led and inept. The British assessment was similar: Garcia lacked the qualities for success in high office. The Nacionalista party met at the end of July 1957 and nominated Garcia for president without enthusiasm. Magsaysay’s ardent young supporters refused to endorse Garcia and instead deserted to form a new party.137 Garcia triumphed in the election at the beginning of December 1957 but the electors rejected his running mate, Jose P. Laurel, Jr, instead returned the Liberal party’s nominee, Diasdado Macapagal. Manuel Manalan was endorsed by Magsaysay’s progressive supporters; he performed reasonably well but lacked the organisation to defeat the established party machines. From the British viewpoint, Macapagal’s election as vice-president was not wholly encouraging: he was a popular politician of humble origins but was identified with those urging the

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transfer of British North Borneo to the Philippines. There were rumours, in July 1957, of a plot to launch a large-scale raid on the east coast of Borneo. D.R. Hey-Neane minuted that he had lunched with a former press attaché at the Philippines legation some months ago and they had discussed Islam and its impact in Southeast Asia. He commented ‘I don’t doubt there is a movement among the Filipino “Moros” to join forces with their ethnic co-religionists in British and Indonesian North Borneo; and that the Philippines government is secretly backing these aspirations – North Borneon oil is a very valuable plum.’138 The Philippines was of marginal concern to Britain in the later 1940s and 1950s, other than Magsaysay’s success in combating the Huk rebellion. Foreign Office files reveal genuine interest in Magsaysay as an original leader of acumen and tenacity. While clearly pro-American, he had no intention of being a puppet: he could facilitate expansion in British economic activity and perhaps political influence. Interest, with so much else, perished in the wreckage of the aeroplane containing the bodies of the president and his companions.

8 Britain, Indonesia and the Creation of Malaysia, 1959–65

The process of reducing British commitments in Asia in the 1960s included serious friction with Indonesia resulting from British sponsorship of the creation of Malaysia. Armed ‘confrontation’ occurred in Borneo and involved Britain in diversion of resources and concomitant increases in expenditure at a time when financial pressures pointed to reduction rather than expansion in commitments. A number of discrete issues coalesced: the challenge of establishing Malaya on a secure foundation, solving the vexed problem of Singapore, resolving the fate of British territories in Borneo plus the fate of Brunei and the future development of Indonesia. It is appropriate to begin with the latter.

Indonesia Indonesia is a vast state comprising thousands of islands: given the racial, religious and regional differences, it is not surprising that the history of Indonesia has witnessed continuous difficulty in establishing effective central administration. The dominating personality in the first 20 years was President Sukarno. The principal contending forces within the state by 1959 were the army and the Indonesian Communist party (PKI). Sukarno tried to achieve unity through his charisma, rhetoric and dexterity in balancing the various factions and personalities. He benefited from his prominence as one of the founders of the new state, rooted in his antagonism to Dutch colonialism.1 Over time he veered towards closer collaboration with the PKI and this worried the British and American governments.2 British ministers and officials did not trust Sukarno and viewed him warily: however, they underestimated his talent for causing trouble, as became clear in the Indonesian response to the emergence of Malaysia. The Eisenhower administration disliked 215

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Sukarno and vacillated between attempting uneasily to cooperate with him and plotting to undermine his rule. The Eden and Macmillan governments exchanged views with Washington and the intelligence services of both countries worked together in the middle to later 1950s in supporting dissidents in Sumatra and Celebes. The aim was ‘to hold Sukarno’s feet to the fire’ to use the term favoured by Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) operatives.3 Sukarno proved more resilient than expected or, to be more precise, the heat generated by the fire was less intense than anticipated. Regional rebellions were more of a nuisance than a real threat to Sukarno. Evidence of American and British complicity in plotting against him pushed him towards cooperation with the Soviet Union.4 The Foreign Office and the War Office supported a policy of cooperating with the Indonesian army: this entailed permitting Indonesian officers to attend courses in Britain and facilitating certain arms deals. Following the rebellion in Brunei in December 1962, current arrangements with the Indonesian army were reviewed; in the first nine months of the financial year 12 courses had been organised for approximately 140 army officers and men. The courses included intelligence training: the total cost was approximately £9,000. The Indonesian authorities desired courses to continue and requested concentration on intelligence. Because of evidence that the rebels in Brunei had received Indonesian support, the office of the British commissioner-general in Singapore recognised that ‘the undertaking of, say, Jungle Warfare or even Intelligence courses will be hard to explain, particularly in parliament or to the Malayans ... .’5 Colonel M.L. Steele-Perkins of the War Office wrote that Indonesians should be excluded from jungle training and intelligence courses: it was improbable that their presence would be welcomed in Malaya or Singapore but that was no reason for halting visits to Britain. Two Indonesian officers were currently attending the Staff College and four more had been invited to a series of courses at the Intelligence Centre at Maresfield in 1963–64: since these courses did not involve applied intelligence and Indonesians had attended similar courses previously, Steele-Perkins held that the arguments for permitting attendance were more compelling than arguments against doing so.6 He added that he had provided a military assessment; in the political sphere the likely response of the Malayan authorities must be considered. Soon afterwards the Indonesian military cancelled attendance at a number of courses.7 This exchange underlined the curious nature of relations as ‘confrontation’ escalated. British diplomats debated the state of Sukarno’s health, the imminence of the communist threat and the ambitions of the armed

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forces. Sukarno suffered from various ailments and it was believed that he was not destined to survive for long. The assistance of the Treasury’s senior medical adviser was invoked in interpreting the evidence: among the ailments were liver disease and gallstones. He concluded that it was probable that Sukarno would succumb within a few years.8 As it turned out, he survived for rather longer than forecast and the most urgent threat to his power came from the army rather than the degeneration of his body. After Sukarno the personality to interest the Foreign Office most was D.N. Aidit, leader of the PKI. A British diplomat in Djakarta spoke to Aidit in January 1963 at the Burmese National Day Party: Aidit claimed that the PKI enjoyed a membership of two million and that its influence was growing. He added that it was premature to contemplate joining the government. In a phrase reminiscent of Arthur Conan Doyle, the British official described Aidit as ‘devilishly clever’.9 Subsequent reports confirmed Aidit’s ability and potential, although it was felt that he might be relying on alcohol or drugs for stimulation.10 Sukarno was leaning towards the PKI because he regarded the army as a more potent threat to his ascendancy and it complemented his disenchantment with Britain and the United States. On the eve of the disastrous chain of events leading to the bloody suppression of the PKI and his own death, Aidit told visiting Australians in September 1965 that he was satisfied with the progress made by the PKI: in his opinion he possessed sufficient power to prevent the government from taking action to which he was opposed but his influence was not strong enough to secure adoption of policies he favoured. The British ambassador deemed this to be accurate.11 The power of the army was expanding in the 1950s and 1960s; it was not united and included factions loyal to Sukarno and hostile to him. The vital aspect was the army’s suspicion of the PKI and the probability of a grave clash occurring between the two. The minister of defence, General Nasution, was regarded by the British as capable but too committed to Sukarno’s policy of ‘confrontation’ over Malaysia.12 General Suharto, later to replace Sukarno and then to rule Indonesia for a generation, was described as competent and hostile to communism.13 The air force was regarded as pro-communist and the navy was described as neutral.14 In December 1964, the Foreign Office debated whether action should be taken to influence the succession to Sukarno. His health was bad and he might die in the near future. The struggle for the succession had started but British interests would be best served by allowing confusion to continue. In an apparent reference to clandestine activity, Edward Peck wrote that it would probably be best not to act in Java at this time (Java was underlined). Attention should be


devoted to the personalities likely to emerge from the looming power struggle before decisions were reached.15 Sukarno viewed British ambassadors critically, believing, with some justification, that Britain wished to see him removed from office; he told a visiting American journalist that the British were plotting against him. He disliked the previous ambassador, Sir Leslie Fry, because he was ‘an old India hand’ and Sukarno said of the current ambassador, Andrew Gilchrist, that ‘he was convinced that Gilchrist had been sent out’ to achieve his removal ‘and it was clear that he disliked him’.16 Gilchrist had served in Special Operations Executive (SOE) and he was a man of considerable tenacity. In an interesting exchange of correspondence at the time of his appointment, in January 1963, Gilchrist commented that he was conversant with the geography of Indonesia and with general political and economic issues but ‘I am very ignorant indeed about British policy in S E Asia and the determination or otherwise with which we intend to pursue it.’ He added that he had spent a weekend in Washington with the CIA before Christmas and he was familiar with their opinions.17 Warner replied that he would leave papers for Gilchrist to peruse when he visited Whitehall. In a sombre passage he remarked ‘Our relations with Indonesia are bad and likely to get worse. You are in for quite a time. I know of no-one who is likely to support it better than you.’18 Certainly Gilchrist experienced more than the normal share of excitement during his time in Djakarta.

Origins of Malaysia The concept of a ‘dominion’ resembling the later Malaysia can be traced back to planning for the postwar era, conducted while the Pacific war raged. Officials in the Colonial Office reflected on the scattered British territories in Borneo and concluded that it would be salutary to produce a new union, which would be more viable in the context of defence.19 The insurgency in Malaya and the fraught situation in Singapore meant that little thought was devoted to the Borneo territories until the later 1950s. In July 1960 the colonial secretary, Iain Macleod, explained in a memorandum that he would favour closer association of the Borneo territories but there were ‘too many imponderables’ to permit pursuing the question in the immediate future. 20 The territories comprised North Borneo, Sarawak and the sultanate of Brunei: the latter was a sovereign state linked with Britain by a defence treaty. It was impossible to consider the territories in isolation from Malaya and Singapore. The most difficult single issue concerned the future of Singapore. Here


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a bitter struggle was being waged between the British colonial administration and the forces of nationalism and within the latter between the communists and anti-communists. Naturally the British wished to see communism defeated but it was not easy to decide how this could be accomplished. Moderate leaders such as Lim Yew Hock and David Marshall were replaced by Lee Kuan Yew. His People’s Action Party was divided between anti-communists, communists and fellow travellers. British ministers and officials respected Lee’s sharp intellect and dynamism but were unsure where Lee’s dynamism would take him. He was highly ambitious and might endorse the concept of ‘Malaysia’ believing it could facilitate his ultimate emergence as prime minister of the new state.21 The obvious and perhaps insurmountable obstacle was racial: Malays regarded Chinese with deep distrust and they would not accept Chinese leadership. From the British viewpoint accommodating Singapore within Malaysia would help appreciably in the delicate task of extricating Britain from Singapore. Tunku Abdul Rahman, the prime minister of Malaya, was no intellectual and he did not possess the razorsharp mind of Lee Kuan Yew.22 But he was a man of much political experience and innate shrewdness. The Tunku adopted ‘Malaysia’ as a means of enhancing the importance of Malaya, extending influence into Borneo, blocking Indonesians designs and resolving the everpresent problem of Singapore. His optimism on being able to handle Singapore within the framework of Malaysia was not borne out and he underestimated opposition in British Borneo to incorporation within Malaysia. According to official British statistics, Sarawak totalled an area of 50,000 square miles and possessed a population of between 600,000 and 700,000; North Borneo covered 30,000 square miles with a population of less than 400,000; Brunei totalled 2,000 square miles with a population of approximately 60,000.23 The governor of North Borneo, Sir William Goode, informed the colonial secretary in December 1960 that the colony was a contented place, developing successfully. Yet it was not affected by the problems preoccupying the rest of Southeast Asia and it was ‘ill-prepared to meet these problems when they come, as surely they will and sooner than all but a very few here realise’.24 This was a prescient observation. The Tunku conveyed his newly discovered enthusiasm in a speech to the Press Club in Singapore, delivered on 27 May 1961. The British high commissioner in Kuala Lumpur, Sir Geofroy Tory, commented that the speech represented a remarkable change of approach – ‘As suspected, now penny has dropped he is perhaps moving ahead faster than we were prepared to go but we have more hope of steering him if we go along

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with him than if we try to restrain him at this juncture.’25 The caveat was that the particular concerns of Singapore and the Borneo territories had to be addressed otherwise the project could be derailed. A British report, submitted to ministers in October 1961, endorsed the concept of ‘Malaysia’, arguing that it would constitute the best solution to defence problems facing Britain – ‘It would probably reduce, and certainly could not increase, our commitments to the external defence of the territories concerned.’26 This statement made no reference to the position of Indonesia, exemplifying underestimation of opposition in Djakarta. The Tunku was suspicious of British conduct in Borneo and thought that excessive fuss was made in ascertaining the wishes of the peoples living in the territories. However, this was an awkward problem for the Macmillan government to navigate. Serving and former officials held strong opinions concerning Britain’s responsibility to the inhabitants and their views were supported by others with knowledge of the territories. A commission of inquiry, including Malayan representatives, was appointed to investigate the situation in the Borneo territories, chaired by Lord Cobbold, a former governor of the Bank of England and a man of independence. It did not take long for Cobbold to discover the complexity of the task. He sent a personal letter to the colonial secretary, now Reginald Maudling, in March 1962, stating that the challenges were greater than discerned in London. Time was required to reach a satisfactory solution and policy could not be rushed. Malayan intentions were viewed with considerable suspicion in the territories. Skill was essential in expounding policy otherwise serious racial conflict could occur. The civil service must be staffed by British officers for a period of years. Cobbold had a lengthy, amicable meeting with Tunku Abdul Rahman and his deputy, Tun Abdul Razak, on 5 March 1962. Despite the negative tone of his remarks, Cobbold ended the letter with reaffirmation of his support for the common objective: ‘In spite of all the difficulties I believe that Malaysia could with wisdom and moderation be the right solution for the territories.’27 Cobbold held that assurances to the peoples of the territories must be fulfilled and the British role should be extended until the federation was fully established. The Tunku and his colleagues felt that Cobbold was too cautious and that Britain was dragging its feet: acrimonious exchanges between Kuala Lumpur and London ensued.28 Harold Macmillan responded by reminding the Tunku that the Cobbold commission was an independent body and that the British government was not necessarily bound by its recommendations –‘The British Government has not the slightest desire to maintain its authority during the transitional period over the Borneo territories.’29


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By the summer of 1962, it was clear that Indonesia and the Philippines objected to the creation of Malaysia. A report from Sir Savile Garner for the cabinet overseas policy committee in July 1962 described Indonesia as the principal threat to the establishment of Malaysia: if the latter failed to materialise, then the most likely alternative was a ‘Greater Indonesia’. The claim from the Philippines was not regarded as providing a serious threat.30 Macmillan and the Tunku met in London at the end of July 1962 and signed an agreement in principle for the creation of the Federation of Malaysia. A.J. Stockwell has underlined the point that the text of the agreement was mostly kept secret: the only element published on 1 August was the joint statement.31 There were two reasons for secrecy: the danger of a change of government in Singapore and the importance of not alienating the peoples of Borneo. The Commonwealth Relations Office regarded the agreement as denoting further compromise by the Macmillan government amounting to acceptance of the views of the Malayan members of the Cobbold Commission.32 The British and Malayan governments would, in due course, announce detailed arrangements for looking after the special interests of North Borneo and Sarawak, following consultation with the legislatures of the territories. Safeguards would address aspects such as religious freedom, education, representation in the federal parliament, position of indigenous races, immigration, citizenship and state constitutions. The minister of state in the Foreign Office, Lord Lansdowne, and the deputy prime minister of Malaya, Razak, would visit Sarawak and North Borneo to pursue discussions. Expatriate officials should be retained as far as possible. Adhesion of Brunei would be welcomed.33 Prior to signing the agreement, Macmillan met the Tunku at Chequers and proposed that if the present government in Singapore resigned or appeared likely to fall, then the new state should be established as quickly as possible: in such an eventuality the British governors of North Borneo and Sarawak would continue in post until new governors were appointed when the new federation commenced functioning on 31 August 1963.34 Lansdowne and Razak visited the Borneo territories in August 1962. In his report of 10 September Lansdowne remarked on the shock and anxiety caused by the announcement in London. Fortunately, senior British officials had worked hard to allay concern among the various peoples dwelling in the territories. He sought to dispel apprehension of a ‘sell-out’ regarding the interests of indigenous inhabitants. The sultan of Brunei observed developments closely and suspiciously; he was preoccupied with protecting Brunei’s lucrative oil revenues.35 The senior

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Malayan civil servant accompanying Lansdowne and Razak stated that he had changed his mind with reference to the actions of the governors of North Borneo and Sarawak: he now acknowledged that they were genuine in representing the views of the peoples in the territories. Lansdowne concluded his report by emphasising that Britain must continue financial assistance to the territories; this should not include costs of compensating expatriates opting for early retirement. Money must be spent to ensure the success of Malaysia. Brunei became the focus of attention towards the end of 1962 when an armed rebellion occurred encouraged by Indonesia. On 8 December, the Tentera Nasional Kalimantan Utara (National Army of Borneo) seized significant centres, oilfields, part of Brunei town and other areas. North Borneo was also affected. The news came as a nasty shock in London where trouble had been anticipated in Singapore rather than Brunei. The high commissioner, Sir Dennis White, was visiting London when the uprising took place: in an analysis prepared in mid-December White ascribed the causes to the following factors – dislike of favouritism and nepotism associated with the sultan, desire for reunification of the Borneo territories and hostility to incorporation within Malaysia. White thought that the sultan probably had met the rebel leader, Dr A.M. Azahari, without notifying his government: the sultan wished to regain the power previously enjoyed by him. At the last moment the sultan had changed direction and requested British assistance.36 Under the terms of a treaty concluded by Britain and Brunei in 1959, Britain sent 1,600 troops to Brunei: this force succeeded in regaining control of the occupied areas. British intelligence estimated that total rebel strength was approximately 5,000 including 3,000 active participants.37 Lord Selkirk, the commissioner-general for Southeast Asia, investigated the origins and nature of the rebellion: he informed the prime minister that there had been failings in intelligence and these extended to incompetence in assessing evidence and ‘a certain supineness’ on the ground. Intelligence analysis had been affected adversely by reductions in staffing levels. Selkirk was anxious that Indonesia might be plotting to exploit the crisis.38 Tunku Abdul Rahman felt that the crisis was Britain’s responsibility because ministers and officials had not watched developments carefully and had underestimated the dangers.39 Azahari departed for Manila where he told a press conference on 8 December that the sultan had declared an independent state comprising the three Borneo territories and that he had appointed Azahari as prime minister, foreign minister and minister of defence. He said that the rebellion was the consequence of British refusal to recognise the rights of the peoples of Borneo to


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self-determination and to force Brunei to join Malaysia.40 The insurrection was suppressed fairly easily but it revealed patent dissatisfaction with plans for the future of Borneo. The Tunku, his colleagues and Lee Kuan Yew decided that firm action was required against those plotting to prevent Malaysia from materialising. Operation ‘Cold Store’ was implemented at the beginning of February 1963. Approximately 120 people were detained including Ahmad Boestamam, James Puttucheary, Sidney Woodhall and Lim Chin Siong: they were accused of having links with Indonesian agencies and of involvement in the Brunei rising. The majority were released subsequently but 35 were still held in May 1963 when investigations were conducted by visiting Labour MPs from Britain and representatives of Amnesty International.41 Indonesia and the Philippines were very dissatisfied and strong criticisms were expressed by Sukarno and President Macapagal. International concern was growing because of the danger that the crisis could escalate into regional conflict.

Establishment of Malaysia and confrontation with Indonesia The American approach to Indonesia changed in 1961 with the arrival of John F. Kennedy’s administration. The president and the State Department concluded that the policy of the Eisenhower administration had been too negative and the threat of communism should be countered through applying a conciliatory line and to some extent indulging the idiosyncracies of Sukarno. This was viewed dubiously in London: certain American diplomats were deemed to have adopted too soft an approach and to have become sycophantic in their dealings with Sukarno. Divergence between London and Washington was accentuated by the tortuous process of achieving the successful birth of Malaysia. Kennedy, Dean Rusk and Averell Harriman believed that Britain made serious mistakes in supervising the impending birth. The White House, State Department and Pentagon were worried at the growing influence of the Soviet Union in Indonesia: they deliberated on how to restrict communist pressure while simultaneously curbing bellicose Indonesian ambitions. In December 1962, the bureau of intelligence and research in the State Department produced an assessment of Soviet military aid to Indonesia. Military credits of approximately $US 1.3 billion facilitated significant expansion in the armed forces: this included aircraft, ground-to-air missiles and submarines. Soviet technicians arrived in Indonesia and Indonesian military personnel visited communist


states for training. The military build-up was part of the Indonesian strategy for acquiring Dutch West New Guinea (West Irian). Indonesian ambitions were growing and included aspirations in Portuguese Timor and British Borneo. Sukarno and army leaders would probably employ subversion. All this had to be seen in the context of the emerging struggle between the army and the PKI with both sides (plus Sukarno) using foreign adventures for ulterior purposes. The potential for Indonesian aggression was causing alarm in the Philippines, Malaya, Australia and Britain.42 The Kennedy administration agreed that dangerous traits in Indonesian policy should be curbed but it was believed that this could be accomplished through diplomacy of emollient character. This contributed to friction with London but divergence did not become serious until the accession of the Johnson administration. In August 1963, Denis Greenhill wrote from the embassy in Washington that while McGeorge Bundy was critical of Indonesia, Averell Harriman was ‘surprisingly lenient’ towards Sukarno. Harriman was critical of British policy regarding Malaysia ‘as a scissors and paste job’ by the Macmillan government.43 Meanwhile Andrew Gilchrist submitted sombre reports in August warning of the perils of conflict. The Indonesian defence minister, General Nasution, had let it be known that Indonesia would not resort to ‘open warfare’ but would instead pursue subversive warfare. Indonesia would promote disruption in the Borneo territories with the aim, as in New Guinea, of winning without becoming involved in overt conflict. The Indonesians anticipated that British retaliation would be restricted to the jungle and small arms fire. Britain could apply economic measures such as withdrawing inter-island oil tankers but the United States was not enthusiastic regarding economic pressure. Because of Indonesian discrimination against British companies such as Shell, the value of British assets was diminishing rapidly. Gilchrist could discern no future for investment in plantations and extraction, which were identified with colonial exploitation. In a phrase reminiscent of British assessments of Mussolini’s Italy in the mid-1930s, he warned that there was a ‘risk of a mad-dog act by the Indonesian armed forces, which might call for the use of our own’.44 Appraisals by the chiefs of staff and Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) indicated apprehension of the threat from Indonesia. In the short term it was essential to retain Singapore as a British base: accordingly Singapore should be incorporated within Malaysia.45 American and Japanese endeavours to advance a diplomatic solution led to the holding of talks between leaders from Malaysia, Indonesia and the Philippines in June 1963. Britain regarded the meetings dubiously fearing that the


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Tunku might make too many concessions. The contribution of the United States was viewed as well meaning but weak and Japan was perceived as too sympathetic to Indonesia. Indonesian policy appeared to have become less intransigent following talks held in Tokyo. The Tunku and Sukarno met on 1 June 1963 and agreed to make a further attempt at cooperation. Additional discussions at foreign ministerial level took place in Manila from 7–11 June: these led to the Manila accords when Indonesia undertook, subject to later endorsement, to accept Malaysia on condition that a representative of the UN confirmed that consultations locally were satisfactory. It seemed possible that Indonesia might support Macapagal’s proposal for a confederation of Malayspeaking states, which could undermine Malaysia in a more subtle way while offering scope for Indonesia to cause trouble. The chiefs of staff approved a report from the commanders-in-chief, Far East, in July in which Indonesia’s future approach was assessed as comprising penetration and undermining vulnerable parts of Malaysia with subversion directed at the Borneo territories.46 In January 1963, the JIC produced a report, looking ahead to the end of the year: the Indonesian air force could move 1,000 paratroops to any point in the Borneo territories but the limitations of their staff and logistics would restrict the size of airborne forces to two or at most three battalions over a period. In effect the JIC concluded that Indonesia possessed the capacity to intervene but that in reality a grave threat was unlikely to occur.47 While broadly correct, this underestimated the embarrassment Indonesia could cause short of ‘a grave threat’. A subsequent JIC report, completed in August 1963, was more emphatic in warning of trouble in coming months. Aggression against British or Malayan territories could be implemented without a declaration of war; jet medium bombers could attack Singapore and paratroops could be dropped anywhere; Indonesia would try to obtain postponement of the formation of Malaysia or create as much mischief as possible; economic pressure could be used including a boycott of Singapore. British and Malayan economic interests could be harassed; subversion was being encouraged in the Malayan peninsula linked with extreme Malay nationalists and ‘volunteers’ who had participated in the anti-Dutch campaign in West Irian. While it was unlikely that Indonesia would commit large-scale acts of aggression, Indonesia would continue its policy of confrontation. There was little indication of a lasting solution emerging.48 Meanwhile matters were far from smooth in the final stages of negotiations between British, Malayan and Singapore leaders, not to mention

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instability and unhappiness in the Borneo territories. Recurring tensions in the relationship between Tunku Abdul Rahman and Lee Kuan Yew erupted again in June 1963. The Tunku described Lee as a ‘snake’ and the sultan of Brunei as an ‘old woman’.49 He favoured calling the bluff –if it was bluff – of Lee and the sultan and of pressing ahead with the establishment of Malaysia without Singapore and Brunei on the assumption that they would beg to join soon afterwards. Lord Selkirk told the Tunku that he ‘did not believe this would be the case’ and that Lee would return to Singapore ‘and stir up as much trouble as he could and possibly put himself at the head of a United Socialist front’.50 The Tunku and Lee travelled to London in July in readiness for the formal signing ceremony due to take place on 8 July. The agreement was signed after midnight on 8–9 July by representatives of Britain, Malaya, North Borneo, Sarawak and Singapore.51 British defence rights were extended, as the defence agreement between Britain and Malaya, signed in 1957, was redefined to embrace Malaysia. The position of Brunei appeared ambivalent but in reality officials in the Colonial Office were correct in concluding that the sultan did not propose to join Malaysia; he wished to preserve freedom of action and keep control of Brunei’s appreciable oil revenues.52 Britain still hoped that Brunei would join but Brunei pursued its own path of lucrative independence. The erratic and rockstrewn path to the formal declaration of Malaysia was again threatened by the possible outcome of deliberations between the Tunku, Sukarno and Macapagal in Manila between 30 July and 5 August. The Tunku’s mood was unpredictable and British ministers were apprehensive. A further complication arose from American enthusiasm for the Manila conference and for limited postponement of the formal establishment of Malaysia, as demanded by Sukarno. Macmillan had worked hard to achieve a warm relationship with Kennedy and he did not want this jeopardised by disputes over Indonesia and Malaysia. Macmillan agreed that a UN mission should visit North Borneo and Sarawak to ascertain whether the inhabitants wished to accept adhesion to Malaysia.53 He warned Kennedy that Sukarno could not be ‘bought off with a fig leaf’.54 He added that information from Manila suggested that Sukarno’s real aim was to obtain a veto on British bases in the area: this would be dangerous and ‘would make nonsense of all our defence agreements east of Suez’.55 The Manila conference led to reluctant acceptance by the Tunku and the British government that the date for the formal declaration of Malaysia should be deferred to 16 September. This could be seen as a limited success for Sukarno. The colonial and commonwealth secretary,


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Duncan Sandys, reported early in September that Lee Kuan Yew was ‘exploiting the delay ... to further his personal ambitions. Political blackmail or “brinkmanship” (as he described it to me himself) is his normal method of achieving his ends’. Lee declared the independence of Singapore to secure subsequent electoral confirmation of his bold leadership. An election was called to take place on 21 September. The result justified the gamble: Lee’s People’s Action Party obtained 37 seats, the Barisan Sosialis 13 seats and the United People’s Party one seat. According to Sandys, Lee wished to portray the Tunku as vacillating; Lee was highly ambitious and wanted to develop influence in Malaya with the aim of becoming prime minister.56 A.J. Stockwell has remarked that Sandys was a tough negotiator and willing to apply strong pressure to secure his objective. This is illustrated in Lee’s comment that Sandys would prolong meetings until he obtained what he desired: Lee compared Sandys’s approach to that of the communists.57 The peculiar story of the creation of Malaysia resembled a melodrama of the silent cinema with its heroes, villains, histrionics and cliff-top or skyscraper incidents: Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd would have excelled in a film on the subject. At last, on 16 September 1963, Malaysia materialised: Singapore belonged for only a brief period and Brunei remained outside. It was a miracle that it survived its bizarre birth. The focus now turned again to Indonesia where internal antagonisms were fuelling intensified conflict with unpredictable consequences.

Confrontation and Turmoil in Indonesia Relations between Britain and Indonesia deteriorated rapidly in August– September 1963. Criticism from Indonesian leaders backed up with orchestrated street protests increased tension and the danger of attacks on British nationals and property was very real. Gilchrist and his colleagues were under immense strain. Mob attacks on British firms and their employees coalesced with physical attacks on the staff of the British embassy in Djakarta. The climax in the second half of September conveyed fury in the Indonesian government at the report submitted by the secretary-general of the UN, U Thant, following visits to the Borneo territories. He concluded that the peoples of North Borneo and Sarawak were in favour of the formation of Malaysia. Harriman was partly responsible for handling relations with Indonesia and British diplomats exchanged views with him frequently. He wished to avoid a grave clash with Sukarno on the grounds that the PKI and the Soviet Union would gain if this occurred. Harriman was critical of British policy believing


that it smacked of improvisation without careful advance planning.58 The foreign secretary, Lord Home, minuted on 10 September that he must speak to Harriman when he visited New York.59 The situation in Djakarta worsened in the middle of September. Violent demonstrations were held and the British embassy was attacked on 16 September. Gilchrist reported that considerable damage resulted from the onslaught: windows were shattered and his own car was destroyed. He received a delegation who denounced U Thant. Gilchrist protested to Subandrio, the foreign minister, but to no avail. Gilchrist worried at the threat to his staff but reported that morale was high.60 He contemplated burning embassy archives but delayed for too long. In dramatic messages sent on 18 September Gilchrist reported that the embassy was under violent attack and the Indonesian police were simply observing events. He then stated that the main embassy building was on fire and it was essential to leave immediately.61 Lord Home summoned the Indonesian ambassador and made a vehement protest.62 The ambassador in Washington was instructed to see Harriman urgently and request diplomatic support: American aid should be suspended and the American ambassador, Howard M. Jones, should be told to demand an end to ‘hooliganism in Djakarta’.63 Harriman told the ambassador, Ormsby Gore, that the American government had advised Sukarno to accept the establishment of Malaysia and not to attack British interests. Howard Jones had seen Subandrio twice and submitted a written report. Ormsby Gore responded that Britain was contemplating withdrawal of the ambassador, issuing its own White Paper and raising the crisis in the UN. Harriman dissented and ‘argued that it was essential for us to rest our case simply on the disgraceful behaviour of the Indonesians: publication of the White Paper or a severance of diplomatic relations would do no good’.64 President Kennedy was corresponding with Sukarno and the United States would use economic aid to influence Indonesian policy. When the British embassy building was ransacked, sensitive documents were seized, since there had been insufficient time to destroy papers. A month later the Foreign Office informed certain ambassadors that documents taken dealt with current issues concerning Malaysia and relations with Indonesia – ‘We are fairly sure that correspondence containing disobliging references to President Sukarno fell into Indonesian hands.’65 Indonesian leaders later referred to the contents of documents and the press alluded to them. Immediately after the attack on the embassy building Gilchrist informed the Foreign Office that his usefulness in Djakarta was at an end. Influenced no doubt by American opinion, the foreign secretary stated that ‘I am however still


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reluctant to withdraw you as a political gesture at least so long as there is any prospect of British firms being able to carry on business.’66 The Kennedy administration clearly wanted Britain and Malaysia to compromise. Dean Rusk proposed that quadripartite talks (United States, Britain, Australia and New Zealand) should be convened in Washington between 14 and 18 October. The Foreign Office regretted the brief notice but felt that there was no alternative to participation. Fred Warner commented: ‘They seem determined to force the Tunku into discussions under circumstances which are bound to make Sukarno think that he will get the sort of grudging support from the Americans which he got over the New Guinea problem.’67 A delicate aspect was that the Tunku had not been consulted. The Foreign Office believed that he must be approached despite American reservations: while he could be impulsive, the Tunku had not been indiscreet when information conveyed was strictly confidential. Consulting him could prevent problems developing subsequently.68 However, Rusk and the Australian external affairs minister, Sir Garfield Barwick, did not want this done before talks were held; the Foreign Office agreed if the Tunku was approached before the Washington meeting concluded business.69 When the talks began Harriman emphasised American preoccupation with the threat from China. Indonesia must not be allowed to go communist and this was the dominant consideration: the Soviet Union was displaying interest in Indonesia and this had to be countered. Harriman spoke disparagingly of Sukarno: he was ‘irrational, opportunist, reckless and demagogic’.70 Harriman dismissed Malaysia as incapable of providing a firm bulwark against China: ‘The US therefore thought it best to play along with Sukarno and do what they could to influence him in the right direction.’71 Roger Hilsman of the State Department said that the administration was trying to push Sukarno towards a policy of sensible economic progress and stability instead of pursuing ‘bloody-shirt nationalism’.72 Given the current state of Sino-Soviet relations, China might try to interfere in Indonesia. Barwick commented that the West had treated Indonesia generously and it had not been reciprocated. Indonesia was opposed fundamentally to the establishment of Malaysia; Timor and New Guinea would be next. Malaysia was now a reality and had to be defended. Ormsby Gore stressed that Indonesia could not be permitted to undermine and destroy Malaysia: the communists would gain from such an attempt. The repercussions for Thailand and the Philippines had to be kept in mind. The time had come to stop Sukarno in his tracks: Britain had examined military issues and concluded that it would be feasible to act militarily, although it would be costly. He


added pointedly that it was unfortunate that Malaysian leaders had derived the impression from American sources that Britain could not defend Malaysia.73 Britain, Australia and New Zealand regarded blocking Indonesian designs as more urgent than blocking possible Chinese expansion. On the other hand, crude attacks on Indonesia, emanating from Kuala Lumpur, did not help. Gilchrist warned from Djakarta ‘I feel that Malays whom I have known and admired for thirty years are lowering themselves to the level of the Indonesians.’74 He felt that Britain should urge the authorities in Kuala Lumpur to modify their propaganda – ‘But it is British troops that the Tunku will be fighting to the last man with.’75 Gilchrist concluded ‘... This is not appeasement, it is common sense and it is one of the things I would like to talk to Head [British high commissioner in Kuala Lumpur] about.’76 Gilchrist also reported on other matters of interest. Pamela Saunders, a young correspondent of Time magazine, met Sukarno on 12 October and discovered the president to be in a highly emotional mood. He deplored destruction of the British embassy building and attacks on British property but he blamed the British for acting provocatively: Sukarno gave as examples employing a Scottish bagpiper to confront demonstrators on 16 September and Gilchrist’s alleged discourtesy to an Indonesian delegation. Sukarno reaffirmed his determination to fight colonialism wherever it existed; he said that confrontation with Britain would continue. He professed respect for President Kennedy.77 Gilchrist thought it was futile to rely on the American ambassador to achieve progress, since he was far too sympathetic to Sukarno.78 He commented separately on concern expressed by his American colleague, Howard Jones, and by Indonesian ministers over documents found in the British embassy building, following the attack in September, purporting to show that Britain was plotting to encourage disaffection in Sumatra. Gilchrist had consistently and ‘truthfully’ denied the allegations to Jones. The latter was disturbed at a conversation with a British official in Singapore: reference was made to the possible disintegration of Indonesia and specific comments were made on developments in Sumatra. Gilchrist added comments indirectly confirming that British intelligence was examining the situation: his own view of Sumatra had always been that whatever was planned by the British on a contingency basis, it would be unwise to rely on ‘possibilities’ there and it was not advisable for Britain to discuss Sumatra in any other way, thus implicitly rebuking loquacious colleagues in Singapore.79 As confrontation in Borneo worsened, important changes took place at the top of the British and American governments. In October


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1963, Harold Macmillan resigned because of serious ill-health and was succeeded by the foreign secretary, the Earl of Home who gave up his title so that he could sit in the House of Commons as Sir Alec DouglasHome. On 22 November 1963, John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas (Texas) and was succeeded by his vice-president, Lyndon B. Johnson. Macmillan and Kennedy had worked closely together and Anglo-American relations were warmer at the most senior level than they had been since the close cooperation of Churchill and Roosevelt in the early and middle stages of the Second World War. Home was a competent foreign secretary but he lacked Macmillan’s dexterity and deviousness; to his credit surprisingly he came near to winning the general election in October 1964. Lyndon Johnson was immensely experienced in domestic politics but he was not suited to handling foreign affairs. Anglo-American relations moved into a volatile and turbulent era: Home and Johnson could not establish a cordial relationship (and the same applied when Harold Wilson succeeded Home). Complex issues associated with Vietnam and Indonesia overshadowed other questions in Asia and led to growing friction. These were addressed in an interesting letter written by Edward Peck to Sir Anthony Rumbold at the end of September 1965. Peck recalled that the discrete problems of Vietnam and Indonesia came to overlap significantly in 1963–64 and that ‘the original bargain was struck in February 1964 whereby the Americans agreed not to rock our boat in Malaysia and we undertook not to rock theirs in Vietnam’. The bargain was in Britain’s interest and led to a partial revision of American policy on Indonesia. Ironically, wrote Peck, at the end of September 1965 the previous positions had been almost reversed, so that Britain desired an end to confrontation while the United States favoured a tougher approach. The British had failed to keep their side of the bargain in two respects: they had undertaken to deal with the Indonesians on their own, only requesting help from the Commonwealth if Indonesia called on assistance from China or Russia, and the British had interfered in Vietnam through supporting peace initiatives. Peck observed ‘I think given the very nominal effort we are putting in to help the Americans in Viet-Nam, these initiatives have been rather more presumptuous than anything we would stand from the Americans, particularly after the Bobby Kennedy episode over Indonesia’80: the reference to Robert Kennedy will be discussed shortly. Peck then compared the state of Anglo-American relations under LBJ with that under his predecessor ‘We must recognise we are no longer in the Kennedy days when consultation was open and generous; the Johnson technique is quite different and I think if we were to try to


get more we should risk losing what we already have.’81 On Vietnam little could be done in the autumn of 1965 but Britain could ‘swing into action with a new Geneva Conference or whatever seems appropriate’ when the time was opportune. In looking into the future, Australia and the Indian Ocean were overtaking Southeast Asia in importance for British policy-making. Let us return to consideration of British preparations for handling confrontation in 1963–64. The chiefs of staff approved a report on 18 November 1963 warning of Indonesian intentions to intensify confrontation. Indonesian objection to the creation of Malaysia was perceived as hinging on a contest for the leadership of Malay-speaking peoples. Indonesia wanted to secure termination of the Anglo-Malayan defence agreement by increasing the cost to the point where the parties agreed that it was not worth continuing. Indonesia desired fragmentation whereby Sabah and Sarawak would withdraw from Malaysia. Indonesian strategy was similar to that pursued in the acquisition of Dutch New Guinea. The next aim would be to obtain closure of British bases in Southeast Asia and then to terminate Western bases within the Maphilindo group (Malaya, Indonesia and the Philippines). Covert Indonesian activities would develop; large-scale action would be deterred by fear of retaliation and of pressure from world opinion. However, regular units could be used for border raids into the Borneo territories. The clandestine communist organisation in Sarawak could engage in subversion. Britain had expelled Indonesian consular officials and closed consulates. Seaborne landing parties constituted a potential threat.82 In a later report, approved in January 1964, the range of choice open to Britain was reviewed. Possible measures included hot pursuit, sinking or capturing warships, shelling and mortaring targets in Kalimantan, chasing border raiders, hot pursuit of intruding aircraft, air support for ground operations, air attacks from bases in Borneo including targets in smaller islands and eventually targets in Java and Sumatra. Special forces could move against naval shipping in harbour and against radar and radio stations plus oil installations. It had to be acknowledged that both sides could promote dangerous escalation.83 The JIC reported, in October 1963, that confrontation could continue at a low to medium level of activity: border raids would go on and subversion would increase.84 A subsequent report regarded air attacks on Malaya as unlikely; General Nasution had indicated that Indonesia did not envisage a conventional war.85 Interest focused on the internal weaknesses of Indonesia, particularly on regionalism and separatism; in May 1964, the JIC commented on the significance of regionalism in parts of Sumatra,


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Celebes and Moluccas. Sukarno was supported by the army and PKI in the short term as part of their rivalry: each needed to strengthen its position while Sukarno remained. While there were considerable economic, religious, racial and political weaknesses, no one of these, on its own, was calculated to secure the overthrow of Sukarno.86 ‘Volunteers’ were encouraged to participate in action directed at the Malayan peninsula and Singapore: some were trained in Indonesia and others came from an extreme Malay organisation advocating union with Indonesia. Young Chinese, sympathetic to communism, left their homes in southern Johore and they moved to Indonesia for training. Reports suggested that Indonesian agents were in contact with the Malayan Communist Party (MCP) on the border with Thailand. Sporadic terrorist acts were committed in Malaya, which included derailment of a train and an attack on electricity pylons. In August 1964, approximately one hundred armed infiltrators landed in Johore; these included regular Indonesian troops, some wearing uniform devoid of insignia. The Malaysian police force comprised 20,000 men in the peninsula and 9,000 in Singapore supported by experienced special branches.87 In the diplomatic sphere controversy was generated early in 1964 through a mission of mediation, headed by the American attorneygeneral, Robert F. Kennedy, brother of the assassinated president. Relations between President Johnson and Kennedy were cool but not as bad as they became subsequently. John F. Kennedy consulted his brother frequently and sometimes deployed him in areas remote from the customary activities of the attorney-general. Johnson was in the early stages of his presidency and he needed to retain the support of those appointed by his predecessor until he won the presidential election in November 1964.88 It was advisable to assign a foreign tour to the restless ‘Bobby’: accordingly LBJ asked Kennedy to prevent exacerbation of the fraught relations between Indonesia and Britain/Malaysia. Kennedy wished to maintain a high profile with an eye to future opportunity to carry the torch for the Kennedy clan. The British government did not regard his mission with enthusiasm. John F. Kennedy was much admired in Britain, as shown in the response to the news of his assassination. He had displayed charm, flexibility and skill in his conduct of foreign policy. Robert Kennedy was not a specialist in foreign issues and the danger was that he would wish to score a dramatic success achieved in part by bouncing Britain into concessions it did not want to make. Kennedy visited London in January 1964; his mission included discussion of matters relating to North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and Cyprus in addition to Indonesia and Malaysia. Before arriving in


London, he visited Tokyo and Manila. In a minute for R.A. Butler, the foreign secretary, Lord Dundee described as disturbing reports received of Kennedy’s discussions in Tokyo and Manila. Dundee was reminded of past examples of American gullibility, as in the missions to Russia and China undertaken by Wendell Willkie in 1942. He remarked sourly ‘American liability to be deceived by plausible diplomatic crooks is always at its height when the subject has even a remote connexion with British Colonialism.’89 Kennedy met Douglas-Home, Butler and Sandys at Chequers on 26 January 1964: he was accompanied by David Bruce and Michael Forrestal. The prime minister began by defining the distinction between the British and American approaches to Indonesia – ‘... the United States main preoccupation was preventing Indonesia going communist while the main British preoccupation was the integrity of Malaysia’.90 He welcomed the prospect of a ceasefire and the proposal for a conference between Indonesia, the Philippines and Malaysia. The British reservation was that it was difficult to discern any concession that could be made by Malaysia. Kennedy replied that the United States wanted to prevent full-scale conflict between Indonesia and Malaysia; if Australia became involved, then the United States could be committed via ANZUS (Australia, New Zealand, United States) obligations. He stated ‘The United States at present had a useful relationship with Indonesia which it considered to be in the Western interest. If they cut off aid, they could cut off that relationship and they would be reluctant to see it go. The United States therefore felt that it was in everybody’s interest to end the war.’91 He had explained the position to Sukarno who agreed to call off confrontation in advance of a conference, despite the disapproval of the army and PKI. He had spoken to Macapagal who was sympathetic to Western interests. Kennedy thought that Britain and Malaya had erred in declaring the establishment of Malaysia several days before the UN commission reported and this was regarded by Sukarno as a personal insult. Sukarno had renewed allegations that Britain was endeavouring to overthrow him and he claimed to possess evidence from the notorious ‘black box’ found in the British embassy – ‘He was convinced that Britain ran Malaysia and he did not seem able to see that the British bases in Malaysia were on the same footing as American bases in the Philippines.’92 Kennedy recommended a solution based on the Maphilindo concept, which would have the effect of making Sukarno ‘a sort of regional figure’. He suggested that Britain could do more to encourage the Philippines and an emissary should be despatched to see Macapagal. The prime minister said this could be useful but ‘He wanted it to be quite clear ... that Britain could


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not withdraw troops from the Borneo frontier: if our troops withdrew Borneo would be lost within a month.’93 Butler and Sandys emphasised that Malaysia must be recognised and Kennedy accepted that Tunku Abdul Rahman could not be expected to compromise the independence and integrity of Malaysia. Kennedy said that Britain should accept the proposal to hold a conference: if it failed ‘we should be smart enough’ to make clear that Sukarno was responsible.94 Kennedy expressed regret that the State Department had not consulted Britain adequately and he felt that this explained certain of the suspicions entertained concerning his mission. David Ormsby Gore met Kennedy on his return to Washington: his personal friendship with the Kennedy family meant that a candid exchange was feasible. The ambassador wrote to Butler that Kennedy was ‘rather upset by the underlying distrust towards his mission which had been displayed by British contacts wherever he went’.95 The British press was unduly critical ‘and he of course resented those stories which suggested that he was prepared to see us pushed out of our positions in Malaysia’.96 But Kennedy placed the bulk of this responsibility on the shoulders of the State Department ‘for the almost total lack of consultation with us’.97 Kennedy explained that he had undertaken his mission at short notice and at the express request of the president. He was disturbed ‘by the acute suspicion of his motives which we had displayed’.98 If the Tunku acted judiciously, Kennedy felt that the situation could develop to the advantage of Malaysia. In response to Butler’s remark that he found Kennedy ‘lacking in cordiality’, Ormsby Gore commented defensively ‘He is of course by nature a rather dour character and the acute depression into which he was plunged after his brother’s assassination has increased his air of dogged determination in his work.’99 Kennedy’s mission confirmed the intractable nature of the dilemma: the United States and Britain believed in different priorities and reconciling the two was very challenging. James Cable commented a few months later, in a letter to John Addis, that the Foreign Office was very sceptical of Kennedy’s mission and had conveyed unhappiness to Kennedy and his entourage ‘But we did not dare – and so advised the Malaysians – actually to oppose a cease-fire unaccompanied by detailed provisions for its observance and supervision. We felt – and I think we were right – that this would only deprive Malaysia and ourselves of all American sympathy and support on the grounds that our “intransigence” had made agreement impossible.’100 The Foreign Office was dissatisfied with the conduct of the American ambassador in Djakarta, Howard Jones: he was regarded as sycophantic in his dealings with Sukarno and he was

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curiously friendly with a visiting Russian delegation at a time when Britain and Malaysia were under attack. Butler minuted that representations should be made to David Bruce, the American ambassador, when they met.101 A concise, typed statement on plain headed paper was delivered to Bruce’s personal assistant. Jones departed on leave in July and visited Moscow en route, arguing that Russia was significant in relation to Indonesia and he hinted ‘that he felt it his duty to go’.102 The British embassy in Moscow was notified that Jones was ‘a man of great ability, moral earnestness and personal charm’. He had been helpful at the time of the attack on the British embassy in September 1963 but he had always appeared excessively sympathetic to Indonesia and he had recently shown ‘some signs of instability’.103 Shortly afterwards Jones resigned to take up an academic appointment. In the second half of 1964, confrontation worsened. Indonesian incursions into Malaysia occurred in August and September and Indonesian plotting in Singapore was perceived as a threat. The level of border activity in eastern Malaysia was steady but there were signs of greater tension. The chiefs of staff approved a report from local commanders in January 1965 in which the range of counteraction by British forces was reviewed. Here it was noted United Kingdom policy has been influenced by the need to keep the risk of escalation to a minimum and this has entailed remaining on the defensive. The extent to which we can or are willing to continue reinforcing the Far East will ultimately depend not so much on our assessment of the threat, or the measures required to contain it, as on our determination and ability to find the forces required.’104 So far confrontation had proceeded on a containable basis, which had not necessitated significant increase in resource but the Indonesians were increasing their operations and ‘we may, because of our increasing difficulty in reinforcing the theatre, be left with no choice but to take more aggressive action in order to contain the situation. Our only other course would be to withdraw our support of Malaysia’.105 A series of options included retaliatory attacks against minor military targets in the Rhio islands and off the east coast of Sumatra; attacks on the Indonesian air force with or without assistance from Australian and New Zealand forces; combined land, sea and air operations to eliminate Indonesian offensive capability in Kalimantan; larger-scale operations to be conducted throughout Indonesia; the defence of eastern Malaysia and Brunei against overt attack by Indonesian forces. Local


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commanders desired authorisation to implement deniable and undeniable operations in Kalimantan and in the Malacca/Singapore Straits area. Psychological warfare should be stepped up. Naturally the impact of particular measures on UN and world opinion must be considered carefully: Malaysia had appealed for UN assistance and Indonesia had withdrawn from the UN. Deniable operations were usually confined to patrolling and ambushing lateral communications and were unlikely to have a profound effect on enemy plans – ‘The most effective means of disrupting enemy plans in the border area would be by undeniable attacks on forward bases, camps, deployment areas and supply dumps.’106 Such operations would ensure tactical advantage and would seize the initiative. Harassing the enemy and rendering it more difficult to fulfil cross-border raids during hours of darkness and tying down enemy troops in guarding bases and patrol camps would contribute to diminishing Indonesian morale and correspondingly improve morale of local inhabitants in parts of Malaysia most affected. Arrangements had been made for sending reinforcements to Singapore and Borneo; further reinforcements could be sent. The Malaysian government would have to notify the UN of its intention of exercising its right of self-defence and this would pave the way for implementation of deniable and undeniable operations. The JIC reassessed matters in January 1965. Sukarno’s health appeared to be deteriorating and he might die at any time: a successful operation could prolong his life for up to three years. His health problems included malfunctioning of the kidneys: the left kidney was not working and there was a stone in the right kidney. An operation was performed in Vienna in September 1964 and Sukarno was due to return there in January 1965. He was also said to be suffering from uraemia, which was terminal in patients suffering grave kidney ailments. It was likely that his behaviour would become increasingly irrational and eccentric; there was no obvious successor. One possibility was Subandrio, the foreign minister, but this was not desirable, since Subandrio was a vocal advocate of confrontation. Alternatives included D.N. Aidit and General Nasution. Only the army possessed the strength to remove Sukarno and impose a successor.107 Britain had approximately 50,000 service personnel in Southeast Asia including Gurkhas. Between April 1963 and January 1965 Indonesian casualties totalled 309 killed, 10 wounded and 498 captured or surrendered. Total British and Malayan casualties were 65 killed and 89 wounded.108 Confrontation continued with both sides engaged in limited action adjacent to the borders in Borneo. The potential for more serious trouble was obvious but neither side wanted


escalation to develop. Divisions and arguments persisted on each side. In Britain a change of government occurred in October 1964 following the narrow Labour victory in the general election. Harold Wilson succeeded Sir Alec Douglas-Home and he was immediately beset with urgent economic problems. Denis Healey was appointed as secretary of state for defence and he embarked on a wide-ranging defence review. The fragile state of the economy led to much speculation on significant reductions in defence expenditure. The creation of Malaysia turned out to be far more expensive than envisaged and it was unclear how long British forces would be committed and whether resources would have to expand further. Speculation that the Wilson government might decide to cut commitments in Southeast Asia was rife in the summer of 1965. Relations between Kuala Lumpur and Singapore encountered grave strain as the political and personal rivalries accelerated. In Indonesia tension grew between the PKI and anti-communist factions in the army while Sukarno provided erratic leadership. The catalyst within Malaysia was the worsening relationship between Tunku Abdul Rahman and Lee Kuan Yew. At the beginning of 1965 Britain expressed alarm at rumours that the federal authorities might arrest and detain Lee under emergency regulations. Provocation from Lee was acknowledged but caution and good judgement were called for: British forces were supporting Malaysia but if violence erupted in Singapore, British opinion would not readily be persuaded that British troops should support the federal government.109 Operating on the principle of jumping before being pushed, Lee suddenly announced, on 9 August 1965, that Singapore was leaving the federation and would function as an independent state. British officials received little notice: the news was not unexpected but it had been anticipated that Britain would be consulted in advance. The British high commissioner, Lord Head, warned on 11 August that the position was fluid and unpredictable: there was doubt as to whether the cabinet in Singapore would survive or break up. Borneo was in a state of shock and the chief minister of Sabah and Sarawak thought that Singapore was being expelled by Malaya because Lee Kuan Yew would not ‘toe the line’. They feared that they would suffer the same fate unless they complied with demands emanating from Kuala Lumpur. Head observed ‘I wish I could feel confident that Malays will handle Borneo territories tactfully, sympathetically and firmly. There is as yet little sign of this.’110 Harold Wilson was enjoying a holiday in the Scilly Isles and he suspended his break briefly to hold a press conference. He stated that a declaration of independence by Singapore had been anticipated earlier in 1965; officials


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in relevant government departments were studying the implications. Wilson admitted that the timing of the declaration was a surprise: he paid a warm tribute to Lord Head, a former Conservative cabinet minister, retained in post by the Labour government, and said that he had extended Head’s appointment.111 This was interesting in the light of Lee’s criticisms of Head. Lee sent a message to Wilson on 21 August stating that Head had shown complacency and believed that he could intimidate ‘little democratic socialists’ in Singapore as well as attempting to threaten feudal princes in Malaya. Lee added that he welcomed the Labour election victory in 1964, which had averted ‘greater calamity’.112 The JIC concluded, on 16 August, that separation need not cause too many problems, provided that the divorce did not become excessively acrimonious. The Tunku would have to restrain Malay militants and the People’s Action Party should keep out of politics in the Malayan peninsula. Lee would probably encounter pressure to secure the end of the British military presence in Singapore. The British government must give adequate support to Malaysia otherwise the Tunku might decide to negotiate with Sukarno. China would strive to increase its influence in Singapore.113 Shortly afterwards the JIC produced an assessment of the Indonesian threat over the next two years. Perhaps the principal deduction to be drawn from the history of confrontation was thus far the slight military success enjoyed by the relatively large numbers of Indonesian forces deployed. The explanation lay in defects in operational command, unsatisfactory organisation for logistic support, weak security and insufficient commitment. If Indonesia decided to expand confrontation, action would encompass frequent crossborder operations, infiltration and subversion. The announcement of Singapore’s secession had surprised the Indonesian authorities and they were unsure how to interpret it. Statements in Djakarta suggested a shift in emphasis from the break up of Malaysia towards removal of foreign bases. Sukarno’s latest speech indicated that he felt that Malaysia could disintegrate: he would probably apply pressure to Sabah and Sarawak to reduce their subordination to Kuala Lumpur. Indonesia’s long-term aim of dominating but not necessarily incorporating the Borneo territories and Malaya would remain the same.114 At the beginning of August the JIC examined the viability of Brunei. Under British protection since 1888, Brunei was the wealthiest state in Southeast Asia on a per capita basis. It was the third largest producer of petroleum in the Commonwealth; oil was the sole major industry. The Brunei–Malay regiment numbered around 700 including a small number of British officers and Non-commissioned officers (NCOs).

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British forces were stationed in Brunei as part of the overall defence of Sarawak, Sabah and Brunei. So far Brunei had escaped large-scale military incursions but there were now indications that Indonesia had substantially increased the size of forces that could be used for infiltration against Brunei. Indonesia was supporting Dr. Azahari who had led the revolt in December 1962; Azahari had proclaimed a ‘Government of the Unitary State of North Kalimantan’.115 Brunei’s forces could not handle a serious internal crisis and the sultan would probably seek British support. Since Brunei’s relations with Kuala Lumpur had been strained since 1962, it was improbable that Brunei would contemplate joining Malaysia. The implication was that Britain would have to defend Brunei for the foreseeable future essentially because of its importance as an oil producer. Indonesia itself now became the centre of world attention as internal tensions reached a bloody climax, assisted by the contributions of the British and American intelligence services. The CIA and MI6 had flirted with dissidents in parts of Indonesia since the middle 1950s; the CIA made determined attempts to destabilise Indonesia, notably in a major revolt in 1958, which failed. British agents were involved in Sumatra and elsewhere. The Kennedy administration opted for a softer approach and this exasperated British ministers and officials. The Johnson administration for a time continued along the path pursued by its predecessor but this changed in 1965. The menace posed by the PKI and the developing Soviet role worried Lyndon Johnson and he was wary of Sukarno. Covert action could best be implemented through encouraging factions within the army most hostile to the PKI. Reports of unrest in parts of Indonesia reached London in August and September; for example, rumoured clashes in Medan between communists and anti-communist groups.116 On 1 October Gilchrist told the Foreign Office that a coup had been attempted on 30 September: a senior officer of the palace guard made a broadcast stating that sections of the army supported by the CIA had planned a coup, which had failed.117 Several anti-communist generals were arrested and murdered, a few of the bodies being mutilated. The young daughter of General Nasution was killed during an unsuccessful bid to detain her father. Simmering conflict between the PKI and the predominant anti-communist factions in the army now exploded into all-out conflict, which continued for months. British and American covert agencies encouraged the anti-communist generals to seize effective power, eliminate or marginalise the communists and turn Sukarno into a figurehead. From the British viewpoint, this should make it easier to negotiate an end to confrontation, although some generals had endorsed


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confrontation. From the American viewpoint, the danger of Indonesia going communist would be thwarted. Anti-communists in the army were enraged at the callous murders of their colleagues and a primitive blood lust was unleashed. The army demanded rigorous suppression of communism: fighting broke out in much of Java, in the strongholds of the trade unions. According to The Times, American intelligence sources claimed to possess ‘incontrovertible evidence that President Sukarno was involved in the attempted Indonesian coup of September 30, and that the objective of the President and the Communist Party was the elimination of the military command’.118 The JIC believed that while direct proof was absent, ‘Sukarno was in fact privy to a plot against the Generals, even if not to the actual Sept 30 operation.’119 Gilchrist analysed recent developments in a despatch sent to the foreign secretary, Michael Stewart, on 8 October. Aspects were obscure but he believed that the army had decided to move decisively against the PKI after confirmation that senior officers had been murdered. He thought that the PKI was involved in the attempted coup but it had not initiated it. Sukarno’s stance was ambivalent: ‘Bizarre as it may at first seem, it is not impossible that be both knew and approved of the coup beforehand.’120 Gilchrist thought that China was in a similar position to the PKI, ‘foreknowledge, some support but no direct control’.121 As for Aidit ‘From various conversations I had with Aidit from April onwards I have come to regard him as a man not quite normal in his mind (I mentioned the possibility of drugs at one stage) and it looks as though it was Aidit who took the critical decisions. ...’122 In the short term Gilchrist did not think that the pressure against Malaysia (and Britain) would be reduced. The chiefs of staff and the Foreign Office decided that British strategy should comprise the following: Sukarno should be prevented from forming a government of national unity including rehabilitated PKI elements; the army should be dissuaded from compromise with the PKI; and ‘we certainly do not exclude unattributable propaganda or psywar activities which would contribute to weakening the PKI permanently’.123 Propaganda should focus on PKI brutality including the death of Nasution’s daughter; Chinese interference in Indonesia; PKI activity on behalf of foreign communism; the PKI’s attitude to Sukarno. British actions needed to be subtle: therefore all activities should be strictly unattributable; British involvement should be hidden; close cooperation with Malaysia should be implemented; material produced should appear to come from Pakistan and the Philippines. The formal British and Malaysian stances should be non-interference in the internal affairs of Indonesia.124 Gilchrist communicated some divergence from the


American ambassador, Marshall Green: the latter viewed British motives with some suspicion. Apparently he thought Britain could be hostile to the generals emerging to guide the destiny of Indonesia. Gilchrist guessed that the Americans might be preparing to support Nasution as a ‘strong man’ (eventually the ‘strong man’ turned out to be Suharto instead of Nasution). The political future was very uncertain: the possibilities as identified by Gilchrist were that Sukarno would contrive to restore his authority to a limited extent; that the army would assume control, possibly retaining Sukarno as a figurehead or replacing him with another puppet, perhaps Hatta, but the army would be contending with domestic unrest and economic decline; or the army could emerge in a dominant and successful role, receiving huge economic support from the United States and Japan. Britain required strong American pressure on whatever regime materialised to end confrontation: the danger was that Britain could be sitting ‘uncomfortably and expensively being shot at in Singapore’ while the Americans urged Britain to make the concessions Britain had refused to make to Sukarno.125 Gilchrist viewed the generals more warily than his American and Australian colleagues. It had long been clear that the principal aim of the United States was to block communism, meaning the PKI and China: the danger was that once communism was perceived as defeated, the Americans might lose interest in confrontation. In Whitehall A.J. Brown tended to agree with Gilchrist, commenting that ‘a strong military regime which had not called off confrontation of Malaysia would be very awkward for us, possibly even worse than Sukarno’s regime before the coup’.126 The United States should be persuaded that economic aid was conditional on terminating confrontation. The ultimate outcome remained opaque but the trend was reasonably clear in November 1965. Sukarno’s power was being reduced gradually but he remained in office. Sukarno and the generals were endeavouring to outmanoeuvre each other; the generals were not yet ready to depose Sukarno. Gilchrist reported that Sukarno had delivered a radio address which was ‘almost unintelligible’: it included an attack on the American ambassador. Nasution told Gilchrist that he emphatically disagreed with the speech.127 The army proved ruthless in hunting down and liquidating communists, particularly in Java. A member of the American embassy told Gilchrist that Aidit was captured on 20 November and shot the following day.128 The PKI was finished as an effective force and Chinese influence had ended, as demonstrated in the fierce condemnation emanating from Peking. For Britain it was a messy situation but distinctly better than it could have been. Confrontation continued


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into 1966 but the momentum largely disappeared on the Indonesian side. Malaysia survived with the loss of Singapore. Relations between Kuala Lumpur and Singapore were tense and often vituperative. Tunku Abdul Rahman’s long term in office ended in consequence of the serious racial riots in 1969. In general, he had been a shrewd and successful leader. He was an Anglophile, if exasperating at times, not least in the tortuous exchanges preceding the establishment of Malaysia. In later years, British leaders thought kindly of him as they dealt with a more abrasive prime minister in Kuala Lumpur. Lee Kuan Yew demonstrated that he was a great survivor and he directed the remarkable transformation of Singapore from the era of dependence on Britain to flourishing independence. The whole process of creating Malaysia was exhausting and demanding for British policy-makers. This was partly because of British underestimation of Indonesia: in their haste to find a swift solution to Britain’s economic difficulties and to discover a solution to the fate of the Borneo territories, they did not make sufficient allowance for assertive nationalism and concomitant ambition. Britain was fortunate that matters eventually worked out as they did, far from a perfect or neat solution but in its way an appropriate confirmation of the British tradition of dogged persistence in the course of muddling through.


PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA UNION OF BURMA

Macao (Port.)

Hanoi

L Luang Prabang A Vientiane

O

Haiphong Gulf of Tonkin

Rangoon

S

THAILAND

SOUTH VIETNAM

CAMBODIA Phnom Penh Gulf of Siam Kra Isthmus

Andaman Sea Nicobar Islands (India) St

Hongkong (Br.)

NORTH VIETNAM Hué Danang

Bangkok Andaman Islands (India)

Saigon

S o u t h C h i n a S e a

F EDER AT ION

r. o

M A L AY S I A

fM

al

ac

ca

SARAWAK SINGAPORE

Kuching KALIMANTAN BORNEO

SUMATRA

Su

Padang

I N D I A N

trait aS nd

Java Sea

Jakarta JAVA

Bandung

Madiun Jojakarta

O C E A N

Map 3 Malaysia and Indonesia

O F Brunei (Br.)

Kuala Lumpur

Medan

Canton

BALI


Taipei TAIWAN 0 0

PHILIPPINE

Manila

200

400 200

600 400

800

1000 km 600 miles

PA C I F I C

REPUBLIC

O C E A N Sulu Sea SABAH (Br.N.Borneo)

Jesselton Celebes Sea Manado Molucca Sea SULAWESI CELEBES Ambon

WEST IRIAN NEW GUINEA

(Port.) TIMOR (Indon.)

245

Conclusion

This volume has analysed British responses to the vast issues bequeathed by the Pacific War. How successful were policy-makers in meeting the challenges resulting from the rise of nationalism and communism? What was the impact of the Commonwealth on British thinking? How did Anglo-American relations develop in Southeast Asia? Ministers and officials were reasonably quick to appreciate the emergence of ‘imagined communities’, certainly faster than their counterparts in France and the Netherlands. This is not to argue that mistakes were avoided. In Burma and Malaya there was a failure to grasp how swiftly the situation was changing: this was resolved when Attlee, influenced by events in the Indian subcontinent, decided that Britain must leave Burma soon and in Malaya when the Attlee and Churchill governments came tacitly to accept that the price to be paid for defeating the communist insurrection was independence. In Singapore the threat from the radical left was contained but not resolved by the British – Lee Kuan Yew produced the solution, achieved through a combination of judgement and luck. In the Borneo territories the pace of nationalism was slower: the Macmillan government accelerated change through its desire to fuse Sabah and Sarawak with Malaya and Singapore to form the new state of Malaysia. Brunei enjoyed autonomy and the sultan did not wish its oil revenues to be controlled in Kuala Lumpur. In Vietnam the Attlee government showed some sympathy with the early claims of the Vietminh but the priority was to establish good relations with successive administrations in Paris in the interest of restoring shattered western Europe. A similar pattern could be discerned in Indonesia but Anglo-Dutch relations were strained to a greater extent than Anglo-French relations. In Thailand Britain erred because of ire at Thai acquiescence in Japanese expansion: Anglo-Thai relations were cool for a long time and British 246

Conclusion 247

influence was supplanted by that of the United States. Britain had few interests in the Philippines and was involved only peripherally. Overall British politicians revealed a certain arrogance in their diplomacy with their counterparts in Southeast Asia; at the same time they understood the processes at work and British policy demonstrated flexibility and a willingness to compromise. Communism was identified as the principal threat in 1948. The menace was exaggerated in the later 1940s and early 1950s: the insurrection in Malaya, Mao’s victory in China, communist propaganda and the descent of the ‘Iron Curtain’ in Europe accentuated fears of conspiracy and suspicion of ‘fellow travellers’ and ‘fifth columns’. The communist threat was real but not as comprehensive as feared. Communism was most successful in Indochina, attributable to the acumen of Ho Chi Minh and his principal lieutenants, the ineptitude of French policy and Chinese assistance directed to the Vietminh. In Malaya communism failed because its appeal did not extend significantly beyond the Chinese community and the British allied with the bulk of the Malay community to defeat it. In Burma two rival communist movements pursued long-running campaigns against the government of independent Burma: the British Services Mission (BSM) advised on how to defeat communism until Ne Win persuaded U Nu to terminate British assistance (or manipulation, as Ne Win perceived it). Communism in Burma was a persistent nuisance rather than a major threat: it could assume the character of a grave menace only if China decided to intervene. In Singapore communism thrived with support from trade unions and intellectuals. British rule succeeded in containing it but communism could not be eradicated. In Indonesia the British experienced clashes with communists during intervention in 1945–46 but they were relieved to escape from Indonesia and to leave the Dutch to handle matters. Following suppression of the communist rising in 1948, Sukarno gained the upper hand and it suited him to tolerate the regrouping of the Indonesian Communist party (PKI) as part of the delicate balance of political forces which sustained his authority until September–October 1965. British and American intelligence organisations worked intermittently to destabilise Sukarno’s regime: they exploited the animosity between the army and the PKI to assist the former in its savage suppression of the latter. In Thailand communism was weak and any chance of success was removed by growing American involvement and Thai participation in the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO). British interest in Thai communism was linked to the tactics of the elusive Malayan Communist Party (MCP) which operated in the border region of Malaya and Thailand

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from the early 1950s until the end of the insurrection in Malaysia in 1989. In the Philippines communism had limited localised appeal and was routed through the vigorous campaign implemented by Magsaysay and Lansdale. Britain was not involved directly but officials noted the ingredients in the anti-Huk campaign. Anti-communism was promoted by the Colombo Plan, counter-subversive warfare and by the establishment of SEATO. The ideological factor was implicit in Western approaches to the Colombo Plan but there was no undue emphasis on members acting to suppress communism. The message of the Plan was to emphasise economic and social improvement to achieve stability and cohesion in society. It proved successful and lasted far longer than Ernest Bevin would have anticipated in 1950. Counter-subversive warfare came to be regarded as the most effective strategy for the West to pursue from the early 1950s. The military might of China was confirmed in Korea between October 1950 and July 1953. However, a Chinese invasion of Southeast Asia was regarded as unlikely after 1953. American hysteria over ‘Red China’ was advanced by the conflict in Korea and compounded by the rhetoric of right-wing politicians in the United States. Most British politicians were not persuaded by McCarthyite arguments and Winston Churchill’s cabinet included trenchant critics of right-wing American politicians seeking to push the Eisenhower administration into belligerence. British and American intelligence organisations cooperated to frustrate communist designs but some tension in Anglo-American relations could usually be discerned. This was the consequence of too many Americans pursuing ill-coordinated activities in Southeast Asia; a truculent approach was applied by some American agents. SEATO was the most significant organisational endeavour to oppose communism: regrettably from the Western viewpoint only two states from the region joined SEATO plus one state from South Asia. The SEATO was of some importance in its early years: the fear that SEATO might evolve into a more formidable body perhaps explains Chou En-lai’s denunciation of SEATO in 1954–55. While Anthony Eden supported SEATO, he did not want it to develop into a strident anti-communist organisation: if SEATO became too assertive, it could encourage dangerous trends in American policy-making and antagonise states in Southeast and South Asia. Basically the way in which SEATO developed suited British purposes: if China tried to launch a military invasion of Southeast Asia, SEATO would respond firmly and nuclear weapons would be used. Otherwise SEATO would be kept ticking over

Conclusion 249

while Britain opposed what were regarded as potentially dangerous initiatives of the kind sometimes contemplated by the United States, Australia and Thailand. Consultation with members of the Commonwealth was important as the latter expanded in membership and moved away from the less formal exchanges between Britain and the dominions. British attitudes to Australia and New Zealand were ambivalent: on the one hand, Britain wished to see them accept greater responsibility in Asia and the Pacific but on the other hand there was no wish to see Britain marginalised. Robert Menzies was regarded with warmth and respect but this did not apply to Percy Spender in 1949–52; Australian delegates to SEATO were felt on occasions to be excessively supportive of American ideas. Of course, Britain tended to apply the brakes in SEATO discussions for reasons explained above and this could be interpreted negatively in Canberra or Bangkok. New Zealand was regarded as closer to the British position regardless of which political party held office in Wellington. Canada was important in its membership of international supervisory bodies in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia and the same was true of India. Canadian ministers were in general less involved in Southeast Asia than their Australian and New Zealand colleagues (Canada was not a member of SEATO). South Africa was effectively not involved except in remaining issues concerning the Netherlands. India was increasingly involved but Nehru became imbued with the spirit of Bandung in the middle 1950s and he did not approve of SEATO. British ministers and officials continued to regard Nehru positively and they wished to secure his cooperation, in part because they realised that he could influence leaders in the region in the desired direction. However, the Truman and Eisenhower administrations regarded Nehru dubiously tending to feel that anyone not assailing communists vocally must be sympathetic to them. In reality Nehru was firmly opposed to communism in India and championed democracy. His position was not too far from that of Eden; Nehru praised Eden’s role at Geneva in 1954 and their views on keeping Laos and Cambodia out of the embrace of communism were similar. Anglo-American relations were always important and became more significant with the expansion of the American role during the 1950s. Familiar characteristics were seen: British leaders felt that they should be consulted sooner and meaningfully rather than be approached at short notice over possible courses of action, which were sometimes unwise or dangerous. American involvement grew steadily from


May 1950 with heavy economic support for the French war effort in Indochina. The Korean War precluded deep American commitment in Southeast Asia but the fatal deterioration in France’s position pushed the Eisenhower administration towards contemplating direct intervention. Churchill and Eden firmly opposed military action and Eden’s brilliant diplomacy helped to achieve a temporary respite with the opportunity for producing a solution. The Geneva conference of 1954 represented the last act in Britain’s role at centre stage in resolving international disputes in eastern Asia: a decade later the Wilson government was reduced to a minor role on the sidelines as the war in Vietnam escalated. American military might took over until failure in Vietnam and disarray at home terminated the dominant part assumed by the United States in the previous 20 years. Anglo-American relations were at their most cordial when John F. Kennedy occupied the White House: he represented a younger generation, a fresh approach, possessed charisma and revealed a flexibility lacking in his two predecessors and immediate successor. Kennedy was warmly regarded in Britain as elsewhere in the world: leaders often critical of American policy were seduced by Kennedy’s charm and wit. His savage removal in November 1963 constituted an important watershed: perhaps he, too, would have been dragged further into the morass in Vietnam but Kennedy possessed acumen in the international sphere and he demonstrated a confidence lacking in Lyndon Johnson, despite the latter’s great expertise in domestic politics. British politicians of all parties were usually happier at dealing with Democratic rather than Republican administrations. Liberals and moderates in the Republican party were respected but their influence was waning: right-wingers were expanding their influence and were joined by right-wing Democrats switching party towards the end of the period examined in this volume. Right-wingers were not noted for their sympathy for Britain. Only when Ronald Reagan became president in 1981 did a close relationship develop between a British Conservative leader, Margaret Thatcher, and a right-wing Republican leader (and this changed again 20 years later when Tony Blair, the Labour prime minister, established a close working relationship with George W. Bush, the right-wing Republican president, while the Conservatives became more critical of American policy). Looking broadly at Anglo-American relations in Southeast Asia between 1945 and 1965, I am reinforced in the opinion I expressed in a previous monograph, discussing British policy in East Asia – it was surprising, not that serious differences arose from time to time but that matters worked out as well as they did.

Conclusion 251

This study has focused on the era of approximately twenty years following the end of the Pacific War. In 1945, Britain was grappling with the forces of nationalism and communism, which were not created by the repercussions of Japanese military expansion but which were nevertheless fuelled through the opportunities created for anti-colonial movements. In the absence of French and Dutch forces and with the United States largely preoccupied with Japan, Korea and the Philippines, British forces bore the brunt of coping with the restoration of order in Southeast Asia. The new Labour government, headed by Clement Attlee, was more sympathetic to the growth of nationalism than the Conservative party, led by Winston Churchill. However, Attlee and his foreign secretary, Ernest Bevin, believed that colonialism must be restored, at least on a transitional basis: the length of transition would be determined via negotiation but in the short term, chaos must be averted through the application of enlightened colonial rule. The reality turned out to be more difficult than anticipated by Attlee and Bevin: some British officials, notably in Burma in 1945–46, proved to be reactionary rather than enlightened and the approaches of French and Dutch representatives were usually insufficiently accommodating, if not directly negative. British ministers and officials employed a blend of pragmatism and judicious concession in negotiating with nationalist leaders: they knew that time was not on the side of colonial empires. Britain’s role in Southeast Asia was important throughout the period of 20 years examined in this volume but it was gradually overshadowed by the rise of American power. Britain displayed independence in handling (or mishandling) the creation of Malaysia in 1963 and the ensuing confrontation with Indonesia but the steady increase in the American commitment to Vietnam underlined the reality of American military intervention in Southeast Asia and declining British military involvement in the region. It is appropriate to end in 1965 for several reasons. Escalation in Vietnam marked new dangers which were to preoccupy the Johnson, Nixon and Ford administrations until 1975. I decided that it was not desirable to extend this study by a further decade and in any case Britain was essentially relegated to the sidelines in Vietnam. The bloody events in Indonesia, between September and December 1965, brought about a diminution in the confrontation between Britain and Indonesia following the proclamation of Malaysia in 1963. The departure of Singapore from Malaysia in September 1965 constituted a further landmark. After 1965, Britain’s contribution was diminishing rapidly and the end of Britain’s historic role east of Suez was proclaimed by Harold Wilson’s

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government as the 1960s drew to a close. Therefore, I would argue that there is cohesion in the 20-year phase examined in this volume when Britain appeared centre stage for the last time before retiring to extend advice to the United States and successor states as they wrestled with old and new threats and dilemmas.

Appendix: List of British Officials Addis, John (b. 1914); joined FO, 1938; served on staff, allied forces, HQ, 1942 and in Algiers and Italy, 1942–44; seconded to Treasury and appointed as one of prime minister’s private secretaries, 1945–47; appointed to embassy, Nanking, 1947; served in FO, 1951–54; counsellor and consul-general, Peking, 1954–57; transferred to FO, 1957–58; ambassador to Laos, 1959 and consul-general, Vientiane, 1960; attended Centre of International Studies, Harvard University, 1962–63; ambassador to the Philippines, 1963–70 and to China, 1972–74; died 1983. Brain, Norman (b. 1907); served in Japan Consular Service, 1930–41; employed in FO, 1942; deputy to Dening in SEAC, 1944 and succeeded Dening as political adviser to Mountbatten, 1946; political adviser to Saigon Control Commission, September–October 1945; joined staff, special commissioner, Southeast Asia, Singapore, 1946; transferred to FO, 1948; head, Services Liaison department, 1949; minister, Tokyo, 1953; ambassador to Cambodia, 1956; under-secretary in FO, 1958; ambassador to Uruguay, 1961; died 2002. Cable, James (b. 1920); served in army, 1941–46; joined FO, 1947; viceconsul, Batavia, 1949 and acted as charge d’affaires, 1951 and 1952; transferred to Helsinki, 1952 and to FO, 1953; served in Budapest, 1956–59 and Quito, 1959; transferred to FO, 1961; head of Southeast Asia department, 1963–66; counsellor, Beirut, 1966–69; head of planning staff, 1971–75; ambassador to Finland, 1975–80; died 2001. De La Mare, Arthur (b. 1914); served in Japan and Korea during 1930s; first secretary, FO, 1945; consul, San Francisco, 1947; transferred to Tokyo, 1950 and to FO, 1953; head of Security department, 1954; counsellor, Washington, 1956; transferred to FO as head of Far Eastern department, 1960; ambassador to Afghanistan, 1963; assistant under-secretary, FO, 1965–67; high commissioner, Singapore, 1968–70; ambassador to Thailand, 1970–73; died 1994. Dening, Esler (b. 1897); served in Japan Consular Service; given rank of first secretary in Diplomatic Service, 1941; appointed political adviser to Mountbatten, SEAC, 1943; transferred to FO and promoted assistant 253

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under-secretary of state, 1946; granted rank of ambassador, 1950 and appointed political representative to Japan with rank of ambassador, 1951, and then ambassador to Japan, 1952–57; died 1977. Dorman-Smith, Reginald (b. 1899); MP (Conservative), 1935–41; president, National Farmers Union, 1936–37; minister of agriculture and fisheries, 1939–40; governor of Burma, 1941–46; died 1977. Gent, Edward (b. 1895); served in CO; assistant secretary, 1939 and under-secretary of state, 1942; governor, Malayan Union, 1946; high commissioner, Federation of Malaya, 1948; killed in air crash, July 1948. Gilchrist, Andrew (b. 1910); served in Siam Consular Service in the 1930s; served in Force 136 during Pacific War; first secretary and consul, Bangkok, 1946; transferred to FO, 1946; consul-general, Stuttgart, 1951; counsellor, Singapore, 1954; envoy and consul-general, Reykjavik, 1956 and ambassador, 1957; consul-general, Chicago, 1960; ambassador to Indonesia, 1963–66; chairman, Highlands and Islands Development Board, 1970–76; died 1993. Gore-Booth, Paul (b. 1909); director, British Information Services, USA, 1949; ambassador to Burma, 1953; deputy under-secretary of state, 1956; high commissioner to India, 1961–65 on secondment to CRO; permanent under-secretary, 1965–68 and head of Diplomatic Service, 1968–69; died 1984. Gurney, Henry (b. 1898); served in Kenya, Jamaica and Gold Coast; chief secretary, Palestine, 1946; high commissioner in Malaya, 1948–51; assassinated, October 1951. Hohler, Harry (b. 1911); appointed to FO, 1934; after 1945 served in Helsinki and Moscow; transferred to FO, 1951 as head of Northern department; minister, Rome, 1956; ambassador to Republic of Vietnam, 1960; minister, Paris, September 1963; assistant under-secretary, 1966–67; died 2001. Killearn, First Baron (Miles Lampson) (b. 1880); joined FO, 1903; acting high commissioner, Siberia, 1920; minister to China, 1926–33; high commissioner, then ambassador, Egypt, 1934–46; special commissioner, Southeast Asia, 1946–48; died 1964. Kirkpatrick, Ivone (b. 1897); appointed assistant under-secretary of state, 1945 and deputy under-secretary of state, 1948; transferred to Control Commission for Germany, 1950; permanent under-secretary, 1953–57; died 1964.

Appendix

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MacDermot, Dermot (b. 1906); joined consular service, 1929; served in Japan during 1930s; counsellor, FO, 1947; minister to Rumania, 1954–56 and to Indonesia, 1956–59; assistant under-secretary, FO, 1959–61; died 1989. MacDonald, Malcolm (b. 1901); son of Ramsay MacDonald; MP (Labour, then National Labour), 1929–35, 1936–45; dominions secretary, 1935–38, 1938–39; colonial secretary, 1935, 1938–40; minister of health, 1940–41; high commissioner to Canada, 1941–46; governorgeneral, Malaya, Singapore, British Borneo, 1946–48; commissionergeneral, Southeast Asia, 1948–55; high commissioner to India, 1955–60; co-chairman, international conference on Laos, 1961–62; governor, Kenya, 1963–64; then held various posts in Africa; chancellor, Durham University, 1970–81; died 1981. Macgillivray, Donald (b. 1906); served in Tanganyika, Palestine, Jamaica; deputy high commissioner, Malaya, 1952; high commissioner, Malaya, 1954–57; died 1966. Peck, Edward (b. 1915); joined consular service, 1938, served in Barcelona, Sofia, Ankara; counsellor, FO, 1952–55; on staff of commissioner general, Southeast Asia, 1959–60; assistant under-secretary, 1961–66; high commissioner, Kenya, 1966–68; deputy under-secretary, FCO, 1968–70; permanent representative, North Atlantic Council, 1970–75. Rance, Hubert (b. 1898); served in army, 1916–46; director of civil affairs, Burma (major-general), 1945–46; held post in Britain, 1946, then governor of Burma, 1946–48; governor, Trinidad and Tobago, 1950–55; died 1974. Seconde, Reginald (b. 1922); appointed to FO, 1949; second secretary, 1950; member, UK delegation to UN, New York, 1951; transferred to Lisbon, 1955 and to Phnom Penh, 1957; transferred to FO, 1959; to Warsaw, 1962, Rio de Janeiro, 1962–69; head, South European department, 1969–70; ambassador to Chile, 1973–76, and to Rumania, 1977–79. Selkirk, Tenth Earl (b. 1906); paymaster-general, 1953–55; chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, 1955–57; first lord of the Admiralty, 1957–59; high commissioner, Singapore and commissioner-general, Southeast Asia, 1959–63; died 1994. Tahourdin, John (b. 1913); served in Nanking, 1938–40; vice-consul, Baltimore, 1941; employed in FO, 1942; appointed to Athens, 1946; served

256 Appendix

in FO, 1952; transferred to The Hague, 1955 and to FO, 1957; head of UN department, 1959; died 2007. Templer, Gerald (b. 1898); director military intelligence, WO, 1946–48; vice-chief, imperial general staff, 1948–50; GOC-in-C, Eastern Command, 1950; ADC to King George VI, 1951; high commissioner and commander-in-chief, Malaya, 1952–54; chief of imperial general staff, 1955–58; lieutenant-general and afterwards field marshal; died 1979. Thompson, Geoffrey (b. 1898); joined FO, 1920; appointed to Valencia and then Hendaye, 1937; transferred to FO, 1938; served in Baghdad, 1942–46; minister, then ambassador to Thailand, 1946–50; ambassador to Brazil, 1952–57; died 1967. Warner, Frederick (b. 1918); served in army, 1939–45; appointed to FO, 1946; first secretary, 1950; transferred to Moscow, 1950, Oslo, 1951, Rangoon, 1956 and Athens, 1958; promoted counsellor and head of Southeast Asia department, 1960–64; ambassador to Laos, 1965–67; under-secretary, FCO, 1969; ambassador to UN, 1969–72 and to Japan, 1972–75; died 1995. Whitteridge, Gordon (b. 1908); joined consular service, 1932 and served in Thailand and Indonesia; employed in FO, 1942; first secretary, Moscow, 1948–49; counsellor, Bangkok, 1951–56; consul general, Seattle, 1956–60 and Istanbul, 1960–62; ambassador to Burma, 1962–65 and to Afghanistan, 1965–68; died 1995. Whittington, Richard (b. 1905); served in consular service, Batavia, and in Thailand during the 1930s; consul, Algiers, 1942–44 and Atlanta, 1945; acting consul-general, Bangkok, 1946, and consul-general, 1947; transferred to FO, 1952; ambassador to Thailand, 1957–61; died 1977.

Notes Introduction 1. See N. Tarling (ed.), The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia vol.2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992) for a comprehensive survey of the development of the region in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. 2. See B. Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism (London: Verso, 1991). 3. E.W. Said, Orientalism, reprinted with a new preface (London: Penguin Books, 2003). For interesting, succinct reflections in the light of al-Qaeda’s attack on the West, see I. Buruma and A. Margalit, Occidentalism: A Short History of Anti-Westernism (London: Atlantic Books, 2004). 4. B. Anderson, The Spectre of Comparisons: Nationalism, Southeast Asia and the World (London: Verso, 1998), p. 144. 5. R. Service, Comrades: A World History of Communism (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 2007), p. 280. 6. Jung Chang and J. Halliday, Mao: The Unknown Story, paperback edition (London: Vintage Books, 2007). 7. P. Lowe, Containing the Cold War in East Asia: British Policies towards Japan, China and Korea, 1948–53 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997), pp. 99–122. Note the intransigence of Senator William F. Knowland (Republican, California): in a campaign speech, delivered in Fresno, California, on 30 October 1956, Knowland stated ‘As long as I have a voice and a vote in the Senate of the United States, I shall oppose the admission of Communist China into the United Nations’, Knowland papers, box 1, folder, press releases, extracts from speeches, September–October 1956 Stanford, California: Hoover Institution. 8. Anderson, Spectre of Comparisons, p. 207. 9. Said, Orientalism, pp. 107–8. 10. See J.M. Brown, Nehru: A Political Life (London: Yale University Press, 2003).

1


1. See C. Thorne, Allies of a Kind: The United States, Great Britain and the War against Japan, 1941–1945 (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1978), C. Bayley and T. Harper, Forgotten Armies: Britain’s Asian Empire and the War with Japan, paperback edition (London: Penguin, 2005), R.J. Aldrich, Intelligence and the War against Japan: Britain, America and the Politics of Secret Service (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000) and N. Tarling, Britain, Southeast Asia and the Onset of the Cold War, 1945–1950 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998).

257

258

Notes

2. See J.C. Lebra, Japan’s Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere in World War II (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1975) and Japanese-Trained Armies in South-East Asia (Hong Kong: Heinemann, 1977). 3. P. Ziegler, Mountbatten: The Official Biography, paperback edition (London: Phoenix Press, 2001). 4. See D. Oakman, Facing Asia: a History of the Colombo Plan (Canberra: Pandanus Books, 2004) and, for developments in the later 1940s, see T. Remme, Britain and Regional Cooperation in South-East Asia, 1945–49 (London: Routledge, 1995). 5. P. Lowe, Britain in the Far East: A Survey, 1819 to the Present (London: Longman, 1981), pp. 41–8. 6. A. Short, The Communist Insurrection in Malaya, 1948–60 (London: Frederick Muller, 1975), pp. 38–43. See also Chin Peng, My Side of History (Singapore: Media Masters, 2003) pp. 79–84, 146–7, 167–90, as told to I. Ward and N. Miraflor. 7. See P. Krotoschka, The Japanese Occupation of Malaya, 1941–45 (London: C. Hurst, 1998) and T. Harper, The End of Empire and the Making of Malaya (Cambridge: CUP, 1999). 8. See J.C. Lebra, Jungle Alliance: Japan and the Indian National Army (Singapore: Asia Pacific Press, 1971) and M. Hauner, India in Axis Strategy; Germany, Japan and Indian Nationalists in the Second World War (Stuttgart: Klen-Cotta, 1981). 9. Ziegler, Mountbatten, pp. 297–301. 10. A.J. Stockwell (ed.), British Documents on the End of Empire, series B, vol. 3, Malaya, part 1, The Malayan Union Experiment, 1942–1948, no. 15, p. 51, memorandum by E. Gent, 18 May 1943. 11. Harper, End of Empire, pp. 62–83. 12. Stockwell, Malaya, part 1, no. 50, p. 122, cabinet conclusions, 3 September 1945. 13. Stockwell, Malaya, part 1, no. 73, pp. 199–201, minute by H.T. Bourdillon, 23 February 1946. 14. Stockwell, Malaya, part 1, no. 59, p. 172, letter, H. MacMichael to G. Gater, 22 October 1945. 15. Stockwell, Malaya, part 1, no. 73, p. 200, minute by Bourdillon, 23 February 1946. 16. Stockwell, Malaya, part 1, no. 88, p. 229, Gent to H.G. Hall, 11 May 1946. 17. Stockwell, Malaya, part 1, no. 114, p. 294, Onn to Gent, 17 February 1947. 18. Ibid. 19. Stockwell, Malaya, part 1, no. 131, p. 367, M. MacDonald to A. Creech Jones, 8 November 1947. 20. Ibid. 21. Stockwell, Malaya, part 1, no. 136, p. 373, Gent to Bourdillon, 22 January 1948. 22. Harper, End of Empire, pp. 55–148. 23. Harper, End of Empire, pp. 115, 118, 125–7. 24. Malaya, part 1, no. 137, p. 374, minute by Bourdillon, 23 January 1948. 25. Malaya, part 1, no. 137, p. 375. 26. Ibid. 27. See L. Allen, Burma: The Longest War (London: Dent, 1984).

Notes 259 28. Thorne, Allies of a Kind, pp. 606–12. 29. See Ba Maw, Breakthrough in Burma (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968). 30. W. Slim, Defeat Into Victory (London: Cassell, 1956), p. 520. 31. H. Tinker (ed.), Burma: The Struggle for Independence, 1944–1948, vol. 1, no. 163, pp. 272–3, R. Dorman-Smith to L.S. Amery, 22 May 1945. 32. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 124, pp. 274–5, O. Walston to F. Browning, 19 April 1945. 33. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 139, pp. 243–4, Mountbatten to H. Rance, 11 May 1945. 34. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 204, p. 337, Mountbatten to Rance, 18 June 1945. 35. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 233, p. 419, Dorman-Smith to Mountbatten, 27 August 1945. 36. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 265, p. 460, Mountbatten to Aung San, 7 September 1945. 37. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 283, pp. 488–9, Aung San to Mountbatten, 25 September 1945. 38. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 307, p. 524, Dorman-Smith to Pethick-Lawrence, 27 October 1945. 39. For discussion of the relationships between the Burmans and the minorities, see J.F. Cady, A History of Modern Burma (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1958); H. Tinker, The Union of Burma: A Study of the First Years of Independence fourth edition (London: Oxford University Press, 1967) and R.H. Taylor, The State in Burma (London: C. Hurst, 1987). 40. See Ch. 4 for discussion of Frank Owen’s activities. 41. Minute, A. Montague-Brown, 22 June 1955, DB1632/52, FO 371/117072. 42. On Aung San Suu Kyi, see J. Wintle, Perfect Hostage: A Life of Aung San Suu Kyi (London: Hutchinson, 2007). 43. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 347, pp. 573–4, Sir San C. Po to Dorman-Smith, received 19 December 1945. 44. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 370, p. 609, presidential address by Aung San, 20 January 1946. 45. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 381, pp. 629–31, Pethick-Lawrence to Dorman-Smith, 22 January 1946. 46. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 431, p. 698, Mountbatten to Dorman-Smith, 26 March 1946. 47. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 442, pp.714–15, Dorman-Smith to Pethick-Lawrence, 30 March 1946. 48. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 489, p. 773, C.R. Attlee to Pethick-Lawrence, 7 May 1946. 49. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 507, pp. 793–4, Dorman-Smith to Attlee, 17 May 1946. 50. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 536, p. 820, Attlee to Dorman-Smith, 29 May 1946. 51. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 612, p. 898, Pethick-Lawrence to H. Knight, 11 July 1946. 52. Tinker, Burma, 1, no. 644, p. 934, Mountbatten to Rance, 5 August 1946. 53. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 21, p. 30, Rance to Pethick-Lawrence, 16 September 1946. 54. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 25, p. 33, Aung San to Rance, 17 September 1946.

260 Notes 55. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 31, pp. 47–8, Rance to Pethick-Lawrence, 19 September 1946. 56. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 121, p. 170, Kachin Leaders’ Resolution, 3 December 1946. 57. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 127, p. 176, Rance to Pethick-Lawrence, 7 December 1946. 58. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 142, pp. 199–200, memorandum by Pethick-Lawrence, 18 December 1946. 59. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 145, cabinet conclusions, 19 December 1946. 60. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 147, pp. 209–10, statement by Attlee, 20 December 1946. 61. Ibid. 62. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 403, p. 591, Rance to Listowel, 18 June 1947. 63. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 405, pp. 595–6. 64. Ibid. 65. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 280, p. 406, text of the Panglong agreement, 12 February 1947. 66. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 299, pp. 433–4, Rance to Pethick-Lawrence, 22 February 1947. 67. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 338, p. 493, Rance to Listowel, 26 April 1947. 68. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 445, pp. 665–6, Rance to Listowel, 16 July 1947. 69. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 451, p. 672, Rance to Listowel, 19 July 1947 and no. 452, p. 673, R.W.D. Fowler to G. Laithwaite, 19 July 1947. 70. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 453, p. 674, Rance to Listowel, 19 July 1947. 71. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 455, p. 674, Rance to Listowel, 19 July 1947. 72. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 460, pp. 679–81, Rance to Listowel, 23 July 1947. 73. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 461, p. 681, note 2, Listowel to Attlee, 23 July 1947. 74. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 467, p. 690, speech by Thakin Nu, 27 July 1947. 75. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 469, pp. 695–8, Rance to Listowel, 28 July 1947. 76. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 476, Listowel to Attlee, 29 July 1947. 77. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 488, p. 715, Dorman-Smith to Listowel, 10 August 1947. 78. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 503, pp. 734–6, Britain-Burma Defence Agreement, 29 August 1947. 79. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 515, pp. 748–50, speech by Listowel to Karen Leaders, 8 September 1947. 80. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 542, pp. 794–8, Treaty between the Government of United Kingdom and the provisional Government of Burma, 17 October 1947. 81. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 556, p. 812, Listowel to Rance, 15 November 1947. 82. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 580, report from Reuters, 30 December 1947. 83. Tinker, Burma, 2, no. 581, p. 837, entry by Rance in the Visitors’ Book of the Shwedagon, 2 January 1948. 84. Tinker, Burma, no. 582, message from Thakin Nu, 4 January 1948. 85. See R. Kedward, La Vie en bleu: France and the French since 1900 (London: Allen Lane, 2005), pp. 245–309. 86. P. Lowe, Great Britain and the Origins of the Pacific War: A Study of British Policy in East Asia, 1937–1941 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), pp. 168–70. 87. See W.J. Duiker, Ho Chi Minh: A Biography, paperback edition (New York: Hyperion, 2000).

Notes 261 88. S. Quinn-Judge, Ho Chi Minh: The Missing Years, 1919–1941 (Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2003), p. 53. 89. Ibid., pp. 192–5. 90. See D. Lancaster, The Emancipation of French Indo-China (London: Oxford University Press, 1961) and E. Hammer, The Struggle for Indo-China (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1954). 91. See D. Marr, Vietnam, 1945: The Quest for Power, paperback edition (London: University of California Press, 1997). 92. See Thorne, Allies of a Kind, pp. 628–32 and Aldrich, Intelligence, pp. 124–5, 208, 340–4. 93. See A.L. Hamby, Man of the People: A Life of Harry S. Truman (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995) and H.S. Truman, Memoirs vol. 1, Year of Decisions, paperback edition (New York: Signet Books, 1965). 94. Minute, W. Churchill to H. Ismay, 12 March 1945, F1648, FO 371/46305. 95. Minute, L.H. Foulds, 5 March 1945, F1269, FO 371/46304. 96. Telegram, Paris to FO, 19 February 1945, F1093, ibid. 97. SACSEA to FO, 11 April 1945, F2234, FO 371/46306 and A.C. Wedemeyer to Mountbatten, 25 May 1945, F3310, FO 371/46307. See also Aldrich, Intelligence, pp. 209–13. 98. Duiker, Ho Chi Minh, pp. 307–45. 99. SACSEA to FO, from Dening, 10 September 1945, F6636, FO 371/43608. 100. Minute, Bevin, no date, F6636, FO 371/43608. 101. SACSEA to FO, from Dening, 19 September 1945, F7159, FO 371/46308. 102. Letter, H.N. Brain to FO, 27 September 1945, F8420, FO 371/46309. 103. SACSEA to FO, from Brain, 26 October 1945, F8953, FO 371/46309. 104. JPS report, 13 December 1945, F11994, FO 371/46310. 105. Despatch, E. Meiklereid to Bevin, 22 November 1946, F17458, FO 371/53969. 106. Duiker, Ho Chi Minh, pp. 373–83. 107. Meiklereid to Bevin, 22 November 1946, F17458, FO 371/53969. 108. Thorne, Allies of a Kind, pp.680–3. 109. Ibid., p. 219. 110. Letter, V. Perowne, British minister to the Vatican, to Dening, 11 February 1949, F2338, FO 371/76109. Perowne explained that the two papal undersecretaries, Cardinals Tardini and Montini (the future Pope Paul VI) were important in advising Pope Pius XII. They regarded Indonesian nationalists as ‘Communist or crypto-Communist’. 111. See J.D. Legge, Sukarno: a Political Biography, third edition (Singapore: Archipelago Press, 2003). 112. Minute, I. Wilson-Young, 1 October 1945, F7649, FO 371/46392. 113. Despatch, Bevin to P. Grey (The Hague), 4 October 1945, F8167, FO 371/469393. 114. Ibid. 115. FO to The Hague, 16 October 1945, F8219, FO 371/469393. 116. Batavia to FO, 24 October 1945, F8889, FO 371/46396. 117. Ibid. 118. Ibid. 119. Cabinet Defence Committee, 5 November 1945, DO(45)12, F9630, FO 371/46398.

262

Notes

120. Batavia to FO, Dening to Mountbatten, 12 November 1945, F9981, FO 371/46400. 121. Ibid. 122. Ibid. 123. Ibid. 124. See correspondence, November 1945, F10394, FO 371/46401. 125. SACSEA to FO, from Dening, 4 January 1946, F281, FO 371/53769. 126. Minute, Bevin, no date, F281, FO 371/53769. 127. FO to The Hague, 5 January 1946, F281, FO 371/53769. 128. Questions asked by Phil Piratin (Communist) and L.D. Gammans (Conservative), 28–29 January 1946, F1693 and F7800, FO 371/53776. 129. Brief for British ministers, Joint Anglo-Dutch meeting, 11 April 1946, F5769, FO 371/53788. 130. Batavia to FO, from Clark Kerr, 25 February 1946, 25 June 1946, F2980, FO 371/53781. 131. Batavia to FO, 25 June 1946, F9482, FO 371/53799. General Spoor told General Mansergh, informally but seriously, that ‘in the near future he would undertake operations himself whatever the British thought about it’. 132. Minute, Bevin to Attlee, 29 June 1946, F9482, FO 371/53799. 133. Singapore to FO, from Killearn, 10 January 1947, F411, FO 371/63580. 134. The Hague to FO, 17 January 1947, F658, FO 371/63580. 135. Batavia to FO, from Mackereth, 24 January 1947, F1034, FO 371/63581. 136. Batavia to FO, 17 March 1947, F3656, and The Hague to FO, 18 March 1947, F5723, FO 371/63586. 137. Batavia to FO, 17 March 1947, F3723, FO 371/63586. 138. FO to The Hague, 20 March 1947, F3723, FO 371/63586. 139. Minute, Group Captain D.C. Stapleton to Attlee, 21 March 1947, F3798, FO 371 63572. 140. FO to The Hague, 3 April 1947, F3815, FO 371 63572. 141. Minute, Bevin to McNeil, 20 May 1947, F6785, FO 371/63592. 142. Ibid. 143. Ibid. 144. Minute, J. Street, 23 July 1947, F9886, FO 371/63605. 145. FO to Washington, 21 July 1947, F9928, FO 371/63605. 146. Letter, ILP National Administrative Council to Bevin, 28 July 1947, enclosing a joint statement by the ILP and Common Wealth, F10136, FO 371/63607. 147. Minute by Bevin, no date, F10136, FO 371/63607. 148. Minute by Dening, 2 August 1947, F10496, FO 371/63609. 149. FO to Washington, 2 August 1947, F10496, FO 371/63609. 150. Letter (copy), Lieutenant H.W. Sheldrick, RNVR, to Commander R.K. Hudson, Naval Intelligence Centre, Singapore, 15 August 1947, F11875, FO 371/63615. 151. Batavia to FO, 5 November 1947, F14575, FO 371/63624. This concerned reports of an American pilot making unauthorised flights to Djojakarta in a privately owned Dakota at night. 152. Despatch, B. Gage to Bevin, 12 February 1948, F2471, FO 371/69757. 153. Despatch, F. Shepherd (Batavia) to Bevin, 12 March 1948, F12255, FO 371/69730.

Notes 263 154. Letter, P. Nichols to Dening, 2 September 1948, F12255, FO 371/69772. 155. The Hague to FO, 29 September 1948, F13597, FO 371/69775. 156. Conversation, Bevin and Marshall, 4 October 1948, F14666/G, FO 371/69777. 157. Commissioner-General, Southeast Asia, to FO, 1 December 1948, F17112, FO 371/69781. 158. The Hague to FO, 8 December 1948, F17333, FO 371/69782. 159. The Hague to FO, 18 December 1948, F17938, FO 371/69783. 160. FO to The Hague, 1 January 1949, F18464, FO 371/69788.

2 The Communist Challenges in Malaya and Indochina 1. See Chin Peng, My Side of History (Singapore: Media Masters, 2003) and C.C. Chin and K. Hack (eds), Dialogues with Chin Peng: New Light on the Malayan Communist Party (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2004). 2. A.J. Stockwell (ed.), Malaya, part 2, The Communist Insurrection, 1948– 1953 (London: HMSO, 1995), hereafter cited as Malaya, part 2, no. 148, pp. 19–20, Gent to Creech Jones, 17 June 1948. 3. Ibid., no. 160, pp. 50–1, cabinet conclusions, 19 July 1948. 4. For an excellent account see A. Short, The Communist Insurrection in Malaya, 1948–1960 (London: Frederick Muller, 1975). 5. Chin and Hack (eds), Dialogues, pp. 150–1. 6. T. Harper, The End of Empire and the Making of Malaya (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 94–194. 7. On the MNP, see Harper, End of Empire, pp. 115–26. 8. Ibid., pp. 89–91. 9. Stockwell, Malaya, part 2, no. 172, pp. 89–91; letter, H. Gurney to T. Lloyd, 20 December 1948. 10. Ibid., p. 89. 11. Ibid. 12. Ibid., p. 90. 13. Stockwell (ed.), Malaya, part 1 (London: HMSO, 1995), p. xxxviii. 14. Malaya, part 2, no. 216, pp. 216–21, report by chiefs of staff, 24 May 1950. See also COS memorandum, COS(50)274, 26 July 1950, Defe 5/22. 15. Malaya, part 2, no. 216, p. 217. 16. Ibid., p. 221. 17. Ibid., no. 226, pp. 258–9, joint memorandum by E. Shinwell and J. Strachey, 24 October 1950. See also JIAC(FE) memorandum, JIAC(50)(Final), 18 November 1950, Defe 5/25. 18. Malaya, part 2, no. 232, pp. 277–9, summary of meeting called by Attlee, 27 February 1951. 19. Ibid., p. 277. 20. Ibid., p. 278. 21. Ibid. 22. Ibid., p. 279. 23. Ibid., nos. 235, 236, pp. 286–8; letters, Gurney to Lloyd, 19 March 1951, and Lloyd to Gurney, 5 April 1951.

264 Notes 24. Stockwell, Malaya, part 2, no. 244, pp. 299–300, letter, Gurney to J.D. Higham, 29 August 1951. 25. See Short, Communist Insurrection, pp. 302–21 and Chin Peng, My Side of History, pp. 266–94. 26. Stockwell, Malaya, part 2, no. 246, pp. 301–2, M.V. del Tufo to J. Griffiths, 6 October 1951. 27. Short, Communist Insurrection, p. 326. 28. Stockwell, Malaya, part 2, no. 259, p. 356, Lyttelton to Churchill, 4 January 1952. 29. Ibid. 30. Ibid., no. 262, p. 361, minute, Templer to Churchill, 12 January 1952. 31. Ibid. 32. Short, Communist Insurrection, pp. 338–44. 33. Stockwell, Malaya, part 2, no. 285, pp. 424–5, letter, Lyttelton to Grimond, 10 December 1952. 34. Chin Peng, My Side of History, pp. 255–68, and Short, Communist Insurrection, pp. 309–25. 35. Short, Communist Insurrection, pp. 507–8. 36. Stockwell, Malaya, part 2, no. 283, pp. 421–2, minute of discussion with Templer, 3 December 1952. 37. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3 (London: HMSO, 1995), no. 308, pp. 12–13, minute, Lyttelton to Churchill, 16 November 1953. 38. Ibid., p. 13, note 5. 39. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3 no. 317, pp. 25–6, Templer to Lyttelton, 22 April 1954. 40. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3, no. 321, pp. 35–6, Tunku Abdul Rahman to Lyttelton, 25 May 1954. 41. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3 no. 334, pp. 67–8, MacGillivray to Lyttelton, 7 July 1954. 42. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3 no. 362, pp. 149–51, telegram to selected representatives overseas, 15 August 1955. 43. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3, no. 391, pp. 213–26, draft summary by Tunku Abdul Rahman of verbatim record of Baling talks, 29 December 1955. 44. Ibid., p. 215. 45. Ibid., p. 216. 46. Ibid., p. 217. 47. Ibid. 48. Ibid., p. 218. 49. Ibid., p. 219. 50. Ibid. 51. Ibid. 52. Ibid., p. 221. 53. Ibid., p. 222. 54. Ibid., p. 223. 55. Ibid., p. 226. 56. Ibid., p. 226. 57. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3, no 462, pp. 408–10, minute, J. Profumo to Macmillan, 12 August 1957. 58. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3, no. 462, pp. 410–12, appendix A.

Notes 265 59. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3, p. 411. 60. Stockwell, Malaya, part 3, no. 462, pp. 409–10. 61. Letter, R. Clarke to Dening, 7 January 1949 (wrongly dated ‘1948’), with minute by Bevin, no date, F720/1015/86, FO 371/75960. 62. Despatch, F. Gibbs to Bevin, 15 March 1949, F4159/1015/86, FO 371/75961. 63. New York Herald Tribune, 17 June 1949, enclosed in F9771/1015/86, FO 371/75965. 64. Singapore to FO, 28 November 1949, F17833, FO 371/75977. 65. Ibid. 66. Singapore to FO, 1 December 1949, F17779/1026/86, FO 371/75977. 67. Singapore to FO, 20 December 1949, F19106, FO 371/75982. 68. M.A. Lawrence, Assuming the Burden: Europe and the American Commitment to War in Vietnam (London: University of California Press, 2005), p. 261. 69. Letter, Dening to Harvey, 2 March 1950, F1016/79, FO 371/83600.See also JIC memorandum, 15 March 1950, JIC(50)26(Final), Cab 158/9, part 1. It was noted that the French had failed to inflict decisive defeat on the Vietminh: ‘The French are thus fighting a war of attrition in which time is against them.’ 70. Information, Le Roy to R.H. Scott, 21 March 1950, F1016/93, FO 371/83600. 71. CRO to High Commissions, 3 April 1950, F1016/93, FO 371/83600. 72. Singapore to FO, 2 May 1950, F1015/44, FO 371/83596. 73. Paris to FO, 3 May 1950, F1023/5, FO 371/83607. 74. P. Lowe, Containing the Cold War in East Asia: British Policies towards Japan, China and Korea, 1948–53 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997), pp. 190–210, for discussion of Anglo–American relations in the early stages of the Korean conflict. See also N. Tarling, Britain, Southeast Asia and the Impact of the Korean War (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 2005). For a judicious discussion of the impact of Congress on formulation of American policy during the Cold War, see R.D. Johnson, Congress and the Cold War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). 75. Minute, E. Davies, 8 November 1950, F1053/27, FO 371/83631. 76. It has been argued that de Lattre’s ‘flamboyant, even theatrical personality’ resembled that of Field Marshal Montgomery, F. Giles, The Locust Years: the Story of the Fourth French Republic, 1946–1958 (London, Secker & Warburg, 1991), p. 139. 77. P. Lowe, ‘An Ally and a Recalcitrant General: Great Britain, Douglas MacArthur and the Korean War, 1950–51’, English Historical Review vol. 105, no. 416 (April 1990), pp. 624–53. 78. Conversation between Bevin and de Lattre, 8 December 1950, F1053/35, FO 371/83631. 79. Ibid. 80. Letters, Bevin to Shinwell, 15 December 1950 and Strachey to Bevin, 21 December 1950, F1053/35, FO 371/83631. 81. Despatch, Gibbs to Bevin, 21 September 1950, F1092/14, FO 371/83640. For discussion of the role of the Foreign Legion, see D. Porch, The French Foreign Legion: A Complete History (London: Macmillan, 1991), pp. 521–63. 82. Monthly summary, May 1951, H. Graves to H. Morrison, 1 June 1951, FF1073/11, FO 371/92401. 83. Despatch, Gibbs to Bevin, 4 January 1951, FF1015/3, FO 371/92402. 84. Letter, Gibbs to J.D. Murray, 1 February 1951, FF1075/19, FO 371/92402.

266 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115.

116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121.

Notes Letter, MacDonald to Graves, 9 July 1951, FF1015/119, FO 371/92407. Ibid. Ibid. Despatch, MacDonald to Morrison, 10 May 1951, FF1015/93G, FO 371/92406. Ibid. Ibid. Letter, O. Harvey to W. Strang, 23 December 1951, FF1052/79, FO 371/92428. Minute, Eden, 6 April 1952, FF10317/59/G, FO 371/101058. FO to UK Permanent Delegation, Paris, 17 December 1952, FF1193/18, FO 371/101077. Letter, M. Joy to Southeast Asia Department, 16 December 1952, FF1201/7, FO 371/101078. Letter, A. Rumbold to Scott, 7 November 1952, FF10317/127, FO 371/101060. Ibid. Despatch, Joy to Churchill, 29 June 1953, FF1015/62, FO 371/106745. Ibid. Letter, Joy to Tahourdin, 29 July 1953, FF1015/73, FO 371/106746. Letter, Joy to Tahourdin, 1 August 1953, FF1015/77, FO 371/106746. See Ch. 1 for discussion of the role played by Bao Dai in 1945–6. Letter, MacDonald to D. Allen, enclosing note on Bao Dai, 23 September 1953, FF1015/96, FO 371/106746. Ibid. Ibid. Note by Professor B.R. Pearn, 23 October 1953, FF1015/96, FO 371/106746. Ibid. The Economist, leading article, 4 July 1953, enclosed in FF1016/27, FO 371/106748. Minute by R.A. Burrows, 22 June 1953, FF1071/126, FO 371/106767. Ibid. ‘Anti-Soviet Communism’, JIC memorandum, 29 December 1953, JIC(53)119, Cab 158/16, part 2. Ibid. Chen Jian, ‘China and the Vietnam Wars’, in P. Lowe (ed.), The Vietnam War (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1998), pp. 155–63. Porch, French Foreign Legion, pp. 555–63. Lowe, Containing the Cold War, pp. 257–8. R. Rhodes James, Anthony Eden (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1986), pp. 361–72. For useful insights into the challenges facing Eden from a personal perspective see C. Eden, Clarissa Eden: A Memoir, from Churchill to Eden ed. C. Haste (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2007), pp. 156–71. Ibid., pp. 376–8. S. Ambrose, Eisenhower, vol. 2 (London: Allen & Unwin, 1984), pp. 154–68. Paris to FO, 24 April 1954, DF1071/314/G, FO 371/112056. Conversation at Chequers, 26 April 1954, DF1071/360/G, FO 371/112057. Ibid. Letter, J. Colville to I. Kirkpatrick, 28 April 1954, DF1071/454/G, FO 371/112060. Colville wrote ‘The Prime Minister gave both the Admiral and Captain Anderson copies of the last volume of his book and this, together

Notes 267

122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138.

with a lot of champagne and general benignity, sent them away swearing eternal benevolence and fidelity. I hope they arrived in Washington in the same condition.’ Geneva Conference to FO, 1 May 1954, DF1071/374/G, FO 371/112057. Geneva Conference to FO, 6 May 1954, DF1071/446/G, FO 371/112060. Lowe, Containing the Cold War, p. 261. Geneva Conference to FO, 20 May 1954, DF1071/574, FO 371/112067. Ibid. Washington to FO, 28 June 1954, DF1071/792, FO 371/112075. Ibid. Paris to FO, 14 July 1954, DF1071/846/G, FO 371112077. Ibid. Ibid. Geneva Conference to FO, 13 July 1954, DF1071/848, FO 371/112077. Ibid. Ibid. Geneva Conference to FO, 17 July 1954, DF1071/880, FO 371/112078. Ibid. Geneva Conference, eighth plenary session, 21 July 1954, DF1071/961, FO 371/112082. Ibid.

3 Two Approaches to Containing Communism: The Colombo Plan and SEATO 1. A. Bullock, The Life and Times of Ernest Bevin, vol. 3, Foreign Secretary, 1945– 1951 (London: Heinemann, 1983), pp. 43–50. For general discussion of the background, see T. Remme, Britain and Regional Cooperation in South-East Asia, 1945–49 (London: Routledge, 1995) and N. Tarling, Britain, Southeast Asia and the Onset of the Cold War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 315–412. 2. Draft ED(SA) Paper, ‘The Colombo Plan: General Review’, note by Treasury, no date, received in FO, 30 May 1951, FZ1102/475, FO 371/93050. 3. UK Delegation, Sydney, to CRO, 16 May 1959, FZ1102/126, FO 371/84546. See also D. Oakman, Facing Asia: A History of the Colombo Plan (Canberra: Pandanus Books, 2004), pp. 47–8, 50. 4. Draft letter, Scott to Dening, 8 September 1950, FO 371/84584. 5. Minute, G. Muntz, 14 September 1950, FZ11013/87, FO 371/84585. 6. Record of meeting held in FO, 27 September 1950, FZ11013/105, FO 371/84585. 7. Daily Worker, 29 November 1950, enclosed in FZ11013/28, FO 371/84595. 8. Ibid. 9. FO to Washington, 11 January 1951, FZ1102/44, FO 371/93036. 10. Oakman, Facing Asia, p. 60. 11. Singapore to FO, 21 June 1951and FO to Singapore, 4 July 1951, FZ1102/546, FO 371 93052. 12. Note, Australian embassy, Djakarta, to Indonesian Foreign Ministry, 21 December 1951, FZ1106/1, FO 371/101245.

268

Notes

13. P. Lowe, ‘Uneasy Readjustment, 1945–58’, in I. Nish and Y. Kibata (eds), The History of Anglo-Japanese Relations, 1600–2000, vol. 2 The Political-Diplomatic Dimension, 1931–2000 (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 2000), pp. 188–90. 14. Singapore to FO, 17 March 1952, FZ1011/24, FO 371/101248. 15. New Delhi to CRO, 25 January 1952, FZ1011/10, FO 371/101248. 16. Brief prepared for Strang, 3 October 1953, FZ11014/78, FO 371/106982. 17. Ibid. 18. Letter, Reading to R. Maudling, 5 August 1954, D1104/109, FO 371/111904. 19. Draft letter, Maudling to Reading, 18 August 1954, confirmed in letter, Maudling to Reading, 24 August 1954, D1104/109, FO 371/111904. 20. Minute by Reading, 28 August 1954, D1104/109, FO 371/111904. 21. Consultative Committee on Economic Development in South and SouthEast Asia, paragraphs for ‘Donor’ Country Chapter, 20 September 1954, D11014/58, FO 371/111911. 22. Short summary of conclusions, report issued at Ottawa, 9 October 1954, D11014/8, FO 371/111912. 23. Oakman, Facing Asia, pp. 111–14. 24. Herald (Melbourne), 27 July 1955, cited in Oakman, Facing Asia., p. 111. 25. ‘Planning Paper on South and South-East Asia’ SC(59)25(Revise), 11 August 1959, DK6/57, FO 371/144168. 26. Ibid. 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid. 29. Ibid. 30. Ibid. 31. Ibid. 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 34. Ibid. 35. Ibid. 36. Ibid. 37. Ibid. 38. Despatch, Lansdowne to Home, 16 November 1959, DK6/117, FO 371/144169. 39. Ibid. 40. Ibid. 41. Ibid. 42. Eleventh Conference of Consultative Committee of Colombo Plan, adoption of eighth Annual report, DK6/108, FO 371/144169. 43. Joint memorandum, Southeast Asia and Economic Relations departments, requested by Lansdowne for meeting of Consultative Committee, 30 October–18 November 1961, DK6/15, FO 371/160010. 44. Ibid. 45. Ibid. 46. Letter, King to Pickard, 11 August 1961, DK6/16, FO 371/160011. 47. Supplement paper on New Members, UK Delegation private paper, SEA(61)13(Revised), DK6/27, FO 371/160011. 48. Consultative Committee paper, 9 October 1963, CPCC(63)2, T317/838. 49. Minute, Stewart to Callaghan, 11 November 1965, FS/65/140, T317/639.

Notes 269 50. Oakman, Facing Asia, p. 281. 51. Ibid. 52. FRUS, 1952–1954, 12, part 1, pp. 178–9, US minutes of ANZUS Council, 4 August 1952. 53. FRUS, 1952–1954, 12, part 1, pp. 354–5, letter, Knowland to Dulles, 16 November 1953. 54. Geneva Conference to FO, 22 May 1954, D1074/46, FO 371/111863. 55. Memorandum, Tahourdin, 22 May 1954, D1074/74/G, FO 371/111864. 56. Ibid. 57. Letter, Eden to Makins, 26 May 1954, D1074/89G, FO 371/111869. 58. Washington to FO, 18 July 1954, D1074/225, FO 371/111870. 59. Washington to FO, 27 July 1954, D1074/269, FO 371/111873. 60. Letter, Serpell to Tahourdin, 21 August 1954, D1074/466, FO 371/111881. 61. Report, Reading to Eden, 15 September 1954, D1074/106/G, FO 371/111865. 62. Ibid. 63. Ibid. 64. Minute by G. Fitzmaurice, 8 September 1954, D1074/106/G, FO 371/111865. 65. Letter, G.H. Redford (WO) to Cable, 3 November 1954, D1074/731, FO 371/111892. 66. Letter, Tahourdin to Gage, 26 November 1954, D1074/731, FO 371/111892. 67. Minute, Cable, 26 November 1954, D1074/769, FO 371/111894. 68. Ibid. 69. MOD to British joint staff mission, Washington, 6 December 1954, D1074/971, FO 371/111895. 70. Bangkok to FO, 24 February 1955, D1071/126, FO 371/116921. 71. Ibid. 72. Ibid. 73. Ibid. 74. Ibid. 75. Report, Loewen to CIGS, 12 July 1955, D1071/365/G, FO 371/116929. 76. FO to Singapore, 13 December 1955, D1071/365/G, FO 371/116932. 77. On Pote Sarasin, see letter, Whittington to F.S. Tomlinson, 20 September 1958, D1071/176, FO 371/135661 and papers relating to visit, January 1959, D1071/215, FO 371/135662. 78. Letter, Scott to Allen, 29 November 1955, D1071/472, FO 371/116932. 79. Ibid. 80. Letter, Scott to Allen, 29 November 1955, D1071/501, FO 371/116933. 81. Letter, Scott to Allen, 13 December 1955 (second letter), D1071/502. See also COS memorandum, 30 December 1955, COS(55)356, Defe 5/63. 82. Letter, Scott to Allen, 13 December 1955, D1071/502, FO 371 116933. 83. SEATO Military Advisers, second meeting, note by secretary, COS, 25 February 1956, COS(56)87, Defe 5/64. 84. Report by chairman, JIC, and assistant chief of air staff (intelligence), 27 March 1956, Defe 5/66. 85. Ibid. 86. See Ch. 4. 87. Third Military Staff Planners’ Conference, Singapore, 11–27 June 1956, report by Pugh, Defe 5/70.

270

Notes

88. ‘Brief for the United Kingdom Military Adviser to SEATO’, note by secretary, 27 August 1956, COS(56)324, Defe 5/71. 89. Ibid. 90. Minute, Cable, 20 July 1956, D1071/441, FO 371/123235. 91. Ibid. 92. Ibid. 93. Minute, Cable, 25 July 1956, D1071/453, FO 371/123235. 94. Letter, Scott to O. Morland, 4 January 1957, D1071/5, FO 371/129346. 95. Draft, memorandum, 22 January 1957, D1071/22, FO 371/129346. 96. Minute, J. McCormick, 16 January 1957, D1071/22, FO 371/129346. 97. Letter, de la Mare, to P. Dalton, 24 May 1957, D10323/1/G, FO 371/129339. 98. Letter, de la Mare to Dalton, 23 July 1957, D10323/2/G, FO 371/129339. 99. Ibid. 100. Manila to FO, 13 March 1958, D1071/79, FO 371/135659. 101. Minute, D.C. Hopson, 19 September 1958, FO 371/135667. 102. Notice, SEATO research fellowships, D1075/27, FO 371/135670. 103. FO to Bangkok, 13 January 1958, D1075/1, FO 371/135669. 104. Letter, Whittington to Morland, 10 October 1958, D1075/114, FO 371/135673. 105. Singapore to FO, 19 April 1958, with minute by McCormick, 21 April 1958, D1074/12, FO 371 135668. 106. Letter, Whittington to Morland, 15 May 1958, D1074/15, FO 371 135668. 107. Singapore to FO, 14 October 1958, D1077/23/G, FO 371/135679. 108. Minute, Lansdowne, 26 March 1959, D1071/26/G, FO 371/143740. 109. Message, Macmillan to Sandys, 3 April 1959, D1071/26/G, FO 371/143740. 110. Wellington to FO, 9 April 1959 (two telegrams), D1071/134, FO 371/143740. 111. Ibid. 112. Ibid. 113. Despatch, Lloyd to Peck, 2 September 1959, D1071/165, FO 371/1143741. 114. Ibid. 115. Minute, Seconde, 29 January 1960, D1073/4, FO 371/152159. 116. Minute, Seconde, 7 June 1960, D1073/57, FO 371/152160. 117. Letter, Warner to C.W. Wright (MOD), 12 February 1960, D1078/5, FO 371/152172. 118. Letter, Warner to de la Mare, 18 February 1960, D1078/9, FO 371/152172. 119. Brief for head of British delegation, sixth meeting of SEATO Council, D1078/54/G, FO 371/152172. 120. Ibid. 121. Ibid. 122. Pote Sarasin, ‘SEATO and the “uncommitted” ’, European-Atlantic Review (winter 1958–9), pp. 39–40, enclosed in D1071/38, FO 371/152147.

4 Democracy, Communism and Militarism in Burma, 1948–65 1. For the views of the American ambassador, William Sebald, see FRUS 1952– 1954 vol. 12, part 2, pp. 74–5, Sebald to State Department, 17 March 1953.

Notes 271 2. See R.H. Taylor, The State in Burma (London: C. Hurst, 1987), pp. 217–90; B. Lintner, Burma in Revolt: Opium and Insurgency since 1948, second edition (Chieng Mai: Silkworm Books, 1999) and M. Smith, Burma: Insurgency and the Politics of Ethnicity (London: Zed Press, 1991). 3. Minute, Bevin, no date,? 4 June 1948, F8360, FO 371/69472. 4. Minute, O. Sargent, 2 June 1948, F8360, FO 371/69472. 5. Minute, P. Grey, 9 June 1948, ibid. 6. Draft cabinet memorandum, 11 June 1948, F8510/G, ibid. 7. Conversation, Bevin with Burmese ambassador, 16 June 1948, F8511/G, ibid. 8. Draft despatch, Bevin to R. Bowker (Rangoon), 30 July 1948, F9866, FO 371/69473. 9. Rangoon to FO, 9 November 1948, enclosure, Bourne to WO, F15801, FO 371/69486. 10. Minute, Professor B.R. Pearn, 26 November 1948, ibid. 11. Minute by Murray, 21 June 1948, F8526, FO 371/69472. 12. Letter, Murray to P. Vivian (wife of D. Vivian), 29 November 1948, F16570, FO 371/69475. 13. Minute, Dening, 18 August 1948, F10053/69509, FO 371/69475. 14. Rangoon to FO, 31 August 1948, FO 371/69475. 15. Minute, Murray, 16 September 1948, F12608, FO 371/69475. 16. Minute, Grey, 16 September 1948, FO 371/69475. 17. Rangoon to FO, 15 September 1948, F12802, FO 371/69475. 18. FO to Rangoon, 27 September 1948, F13148, FO 371/69510. 19. Rangoon to FO, 19 October 1948, F14650, FO 371/69511. 20. Letter, White to Hayter, 26 November 1948, F17365/G, FO 371/69513. 21. Letter, MI5 to A.S. Halford, 10 December 1948, F17365/G, FO 371/69513. 22. Ibid. 23. Daily Worker, 22 December 1948, enclosed, F17365/G, FO 371/69513. 24. Minutes by J.D. Murray and M.E. Dening, 6 May 1950, F1151/104, FO 371/83155. 25. Minute, Attlee to Bevin, 23 February 1949, F3065/G, FO 371/75708. 26. See Singapore to FO, 1 May 1950, FB1201/14, FO 371/83174. 27. Statement, E. Shinwell, 5 July 1950, enclosed, FB1201/24, FO 371/83175. 28. Notes of meeting, House of Commons, 13 July 1949, with annex, 6 July 1949, F10657/G, FO 371/75683. 29. Ibid. 30. Rangoon to FO, 1 May 1950, FB1201/12, FO 371/83174. 31. Singapore to FO, 1 May 1950, FB1201/14, FO 371/83174. 32. Letter, Nu to Shinwell (copy), 21 May 1950, FB1201/18, FO 371/83174. 33. Minute by Olver, 29 August 1951, FB1201/46, FO 371/92172. 34. Report by Major-General B. Temple, 1 October 1951, FB1201/53, FO 371/92172. 35. Memorandum, Speaight, 29 November 1951, FB1201/73, FO 371/92173. 36. Report, conversation, Ward with Ne Win, 5 January 1954, DB1192/22, FO 371/111983. 37. Letter, P. Gore-Booth to D. Allen, 6 January 1954, DB1192/13, FO 371/111983. 38. Despatch, R. Sarell to Macmillan, 12 October 1955, enclosing report by Berger, 12 October 1955, DB1911/5, FO 371/117082.

272 Notes 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45.

46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54.

55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74.

Minute, D.F. Duncan, 22 November 1957, DB1201/18, FO 371/129425. FO to Rangoon, 29 November 1957, DB1201/18, FO 371/129425. Note by MOD, 17 August 1953, COS(53)403, Defe 5/48. UK Brief for Trade Delegation, February 1954, DB1151/16, FO 371/111977. Rangoon to FO, 11 January 1954, DB1151/2, FO 371/111977. Letter, Sarell to Tahourdin, 31 March 1954, DB1821/1, FO 371/112008. Minute by Pearn, 22 April 1955, DB1751/2, FO 371/117075. Pearn was without doubt correct in saying that Chinese opera would be popular in Burma but it should be noted that Sadler’s Wells Opera (predecessor of English National Opera) offered attractive performances from its home in Rosebery Avenue, London, in some of which starred the Australian soprano, June Bronhill. Minute by J.A. Grant, 10 May 1955, DB1751/2, FO 371/117075. Ibid. Rangoon to FO, 3 February 1950, FB10110/3, FO 371/83113. Letter, Thompson to Scott, 10 February 1950, enclosing report by N.M. Watkinson, 6 February 1950, FB10110/4, FO 371/83113. Letter, Bowker to Scott, 3 March 1950, FB10110/5, FO 371/83113. Rangoon to FO, 29 June 1950, FB10110/8, FO 371/83113. Report by L.C. Glass, 12 July 1950, FB10110/10, FO 371/83113. Bangkok to FO, 14 August 1950, FB10110/22, FO 371/83113. See P. Lowe, Containing the Cold War in East Asia (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997), pp. 85–261, for discussion of British policy towards China and Korea between 1948 and 1953. Rangoon to FO, 3 April 1951, monthly report, March 1951, FB1013/7, FO 371/92134. Rangoon to FO, 2 May 1951, monthly report, April 1951, FB1013/10, FO 371/92134. Rangoon to FO, 1 June 1951, monthly report, June 1951, FB1013/11, FO 371/92134. FO to Bangkok, 10 May 1951, FB1019/3/G, FO 371/92140. Information was provided by a CAT pilot who had served previously in the RAF. Washington to FO, 10 May 1951, FB1019/5/G, FO 371/92140. Washington to FO, 14 May 1951, FB1019/7/G, FO 371/92140. Ibid. FO to Washington, 21 June 1951, FB1019/27/G, FO 371/92141. FO to Washington, 26 July 1951, FB1019/24/G, FO 371/92140. Washington to FO, 31 July 1951, FB1019/34/G, FO 371/92141. FO to Washington, 4 August 1951, FO 371/92141. Ibid. FO to Rangoon, 23 August 1951, FO 371/92141. Washington to FO, 24 August 1951, FB1019/44/G, FO 371/92141. Rangoon to FO, 30 August 1951, FB1019/49/G, FO 371/92141. FO to Washington, 27 September 1951, FB1019/69/G, FO 371/92142. Letter, Speaight to Murray, 4 February 1952, enclosing notes, J.P. Duffy, 22 January 1952, FB1018/1, FO 371/101006. Despatch, Eden to Speaight, 30 January 1952, FB1041/27/G, FO 371/101008. Ibid. Letter, G. Jebb to Scott, 30 January 1952, FB1041/36, FO 371/101009.

Notes 273 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113.

Letter, Scott to Jebb, 11 February 1952, FB1041/37/G, FO 371/101009. FO to Washington, 31 January 1952, FB1041/37/G, FO 371/101009. Minute, Scott, 30 January 1952, FO 371/101009. Minute, Tahourdin, 24 July 1953, FB1041/170, FO 371/106688. Letter, M. Stewart to Tahourdin, 25 July 1953, FB1041/181, FO 371/106689. Letter, Tahourdin to Stewart, 10 August 1953, FB1041/181, FO 371/106689. Bangkok to FO, 29 July 1953, FB1041/177, FO 371/106689. MOD to GHQ, FARELF, for JIB, Singapore, from JIB, London, 7 September 1953, FB1041/198/G, FO 371/106689. Minute, Tomlinson, 11 February 1955, DB1041/1, FO 371/117038. Letter, E.H. Jacobs-Larkcom to J. Grant Purves, 19 January 1955, DB1041/2, FO 371/117038. Letter, Chancery, Vientiane, to SEAD, 23 May 1955, DB1041/31, FO 371/117038. Minute, J.P. Cloake, 28 June 1955, DB1041/31, FO 371/117038. Minute, D. Allen, 30 June 1995, DB1041/34, FO 371/117038. Letter, D. Allen to Lord Talbot de Malahide, 6 July 1955, FO 371/117038. Minute, Tomlinson, 1 July 1955, FO 371/117038. Report, Warner and Townshend, 7 February 1957, DB1015/6, FO 371/129403. Despatch, R. Allen to Home, 26 January 1962, DB1011/1, FO 371/129403. For discussion of developments in Burma in the later 1950s and early 1960s, see Taylor, State in Burma, Lintner, Burma in Revolt, and Smith, Burma. Letter, Macmillan to Churchill, 15 June 1955, DB1623/48, FO 371/117071. Minute, Montague-Browne, 22 June 1955, DB1632/52, FO 371/117072. Despatch, Gore-Booth to Eden, 21 February 1955, DB1851/2, FO 371/117079. Conversation, Eden, Nu and Burmese ministers, 2 March 1955, DB1631/7, FO 371/117070. Despatch, R. Allen to S. Lloyd, 3 July 1957, DB1015/37, FO 371/129404. Ibid. Minute, Tomlinson, 11 July 1957, DB1015/37, FO 371/129404. Despatch, R. Allen to Lloyd, 31 July 1957, DB1223/6, FO 371/129428. Minute, D.F. Duncan, 5 September 1957, DB1223/6, FO 371/129428. Rangoon to FO, 26 September 1958, DB1015/45, FO 371/135729. Rangoon to FO, 29 September 1958, DB1015/45, FO 371/135729. Letter, Tomlinson to Gore-Booth, 28 August 1956, DB1201/21, FO 371/123351. Letter, Maung Myian, to McCormick, 5 July 1956, DB1201/18, FO 371/123351 with minute by Duncan, 9 July 1956, ibid. Despatch, R. Allen to Home, 26 January 1962, DB1011/1, FO 371/166368. Rangoon to FO, 2 March 1962, DB1011/6, FO 371/166369. Minute, Warner, 2 March 1962, DB1011/6, FO 371/166369. Minute by Warner, 5 March 1962, DB1015/10, DB1011/6, FO 371/166369. Letter, R. Allen to Warner, 21 March 1962, DB1015/22, FO 371/166370. Minute, Cable, 28 March 1962, DB1015/22, FO 371/166370. Minute, E. Peck, 2 April 1962, DB1015/22, FO 371/166370. Letter, R. Allen to Warner, 28 March 1962, DB1015/24, DB1015/22, FO 371/166370.

274 Notes 114. Despatch, R. Allen to Home, 4 April 1962, DB1015/26, DB1015/22, FO 371/166370. 115. Letter, Warner to R. Allen, 11 April 1962, DB1015/22, FO 371/166370. 116. Rangoon to FO, 4 May 1962, DB1015/40, ibid. Allen conveyed the views of MacDonald. 117. Letter, MacDonald to Warner, 14 June 1962, enclosing notes on discussions with Ne Win, 28 April–2 May 1962, DB1015/67, FO 371/166372. 118. Letter, Warner to R. Allen, 3 July 1962, DB1015/67, FO 371/166372. 119. Rangoon to FO, 8 July 1962, DB1915/70, FO 371/166372, and 10 July 1962, DB1015/74, FO 371/166372. 120. Letter, MacDonald to Warner, 30 June 1962, DB1015/73, FO 371/166372. 121. Letter, Cable to S. Hebblethwaite, 5 March 1963, DB1015/11/G, FO 371/169752. 122. Letter, G. Whitteridge to Warner, 11 March 1963, DB1015/11/G, FO 371/169752. 123. Letter, N.M. Fenn to T.T. Gatty, 13 August 1963, DB1015/51, FO 371/169752. 124. Letter, Hebblethwaite to Warner, 7 August 1962, Appendix, DB1015/90, FO 371/166373. 125. Letter, Whitteridge to Warner, 10 September 1963, DB1015/61, FO 371/169753. 126. For Mountbatten’s visit to Rangoon, see letter, G. Harrison to Mountbatten, 21 January 1964, DB1051/5, FO 371/175115. 127. Letter, Hebblethwaite to Cable, 9 October 1963, DB1061/6/G, FO 371/169760. The example given concerned a paper discussing Malaysia and defence preparedness, circulated by the IRD field officer, Malcolm Milman, and apparently read by members of the ruling Revolutionary Council. 128. Minute by Warner, 6 November 1963, DB103110/5/G, FO 371/169756. Warner described the situation inside Burma as very serious, adding that Ne Win had become a prisoner of the communists. Bo Letkyi wanted support from the CIA so that he could organise a counter-coup to remove Ne Win. 129. Letter, Harrison to Mountbatten, 21 January 1964, DB1051/5, FO 371/175115. 130. Conversation, MacDonald, Whitteridge and Ne Win, 31 January 1964, DB1051/10, FO 371/175115. 131. Despatch, Whitteridge to R.A. Butler, 13 April 1964, DB1051/16, FO 371/175115. 132. Note, visit by Ne Win to UK, no date,?11 November 1964, and minute by Cable, 10 November 1964, DB1761/9, FO 371/175141. 133. Minute, J. Wyndham to Macmillan, 31 May 1961, Prem 11/4650. 134. Background notes on Mandalay regalia, no date,? November 1964, and minute by Cable, 10 November 1964, DB1761/7, FO 371/175141. 135. Annual review, 1964, despatch, Whitteridge to P. Gordon Walker, 4 January 1965, DB1011/1, FO 371/180224. 136. Minute, D. Waterstone, 25 January 1965, DB1011/1, FO 371/180224. 137. Despatch, Whitteridge to M. Stewart, 26 July 1965, DB1015/18, FO 371/180225.

Notes 275

5 Ambivalence and Commitment: Vietnam, 1955–65 1. Annual report, 1954, despatch, Stephenson to Eden, 24 February 1955, DF1011/2, FO 371/117093. 2. Ibid. 3. Ibid. 4. Ibid. 5. Marginal query, Eden, no date, on Singapore to FO, 29 December 1954, DF1018/5, FO 371/117115. 6. Minute, Eden, no date,? 3 January 1955, DF1018/5, FO 371/117115. 7. Minutes, W. Patterson and Lord Reading, 3 and 5 January 1955, DF1018/5, FO 371/117115. 8. FO to Singapore, 7 January 1955, DF1018/5, FO 371/117115. 9. The Economist, leading article, 8 January 1955, enclosed, DF1018/11, FO 371/117115. 10. Minute, Cable, 10 January 1955, DF1018/11, FO 371/117115. 11. Minute, Patterson, 11 January 1955, DF1018/11, FO 371/117115. 12. Saigon to FO, 29 April 1955, DF1018/158, FO 371/117118. 13. Saigon to FO, 4 May 1955, DF1018/183, FO 371/117119. 14. Minute, Macmillan, 10 August 1955, DF1041/112, FO 371/117144. 15. Minute, Eden, 1 September 1955, with additional minutes, 3 September 1955, DF1041/132, FO 371/117145. 16. Letter, Macmillan to Scott, 12 December 1955, DF1073/26, FO 371/117177. 17. The Observer, 22 July 1956, article, D. Bloodworth, who reported on Asian issues from his base in Singapore. 18. Minute, Cable, 26 July 1956, DF1073/26, FO 371/117177. 19. Minute, Cable, 12 June 1956, DF1071/279, FO 371/123455. 20. Minute, D. Allen, 9 June 1956, DF10340/2, FO 371/123428. 21. Letter, Gage to D. Allen, 30 July 1956, DF10340/10/G, FO 371/123428. 22. See J.A. Stowe, Siam Becomes Thailand: a Study of Intrigue (London: Hurst, 1991), pp. 90, 235, 249. 23. Minute, B.R. Pearn, 10 August 1956, DF10340/10/G, FO 371/123428. 24. Ibid. 25. Ibid. 26. Ibid. 27. Minute, J.A. Snellgrove, 23 October 1956, DF10345/12, FO 371/123429. 28. Minute, Cable, 17 August 1956, DF10340/8, FO 371/123428. 29. Minute, Cable, 11 April 1956, DF1071/127, FO 371/123449. 30. Ibid. 31. Despatch, Etherington-Smith to S. Lloyd, 28 July 1956, DF1018/44, FO 371/123414. 32. Despatch, K.J. Simpson (Hanoi) to Lloyd, 9 September 1957, DF/1016/37, FO 371/129707. 33. Despatch, Simpson to Lloyd, 19 February 1958, DV1016/7, FO 371/136118. 34. Despatch, Parkes to Lloyd, 10 January 1958, DV1011/1, FO 371/136114. 35. Letter, Parkes to Morland, 2 July 1958, DV1015/30/G, FO 371/136117. 36. Letter, C. Stewart to G. McDermott, 11 October 1958, with enclosure, DV1015/43/G, FO 371/136117.

276 Notes 37. Despatch, Stewart to Lloyd, 26 September 1958, DV1015/34/G, FO 371/136117. 38. Letter, Parkes to Morland, 11 June 1958, enclosing report by Stewart, 7 June 195, DV1015/26, FO 371/136117. 39. Despatch, Parkes to Lloyd, 7 January 1959, DV1011/1, FO 371/144387. 40. Letter, Parkes to Brain, 13 March 1959, DV1071/13/G, FO 371/144387. 41. Letter, M.D. Butler to C.W. Wright, 6 April 1959, DV1071/13/G, FO 371/144387. 42. Letter, Moss to M.T. Walker (Hanoi), 16 April 1959, DV1071/13/G, FO 371/144387. 43. Letter, Walker to Moss, 8 June 1959, DV1071/36/G, FO 371/144413. 44. Minute, Pearn, 21 December 1959, DV1015/1, FO 371/152738. 45. Despatch, Stewart to Lloyd, 10 March 1960, DV1015/10, FO 371/152738. 46. Letter, Stewart to Warner, 23 April 1960, DV1015/31, FO 371/152739. 47. Washington to FO, 11 November 1958, Prem 11/2574. 48. Letter, Graves to Tomlinson, 4 June 1956, enclosing text of Kennedy’s speech, 1 June 1956, DF10345/2, FO 371/123429. 49. FRUS, 1958–1960, vol.1, Vietnam, no. 175, letter, Lansdale to Williams, 21 June 1960. 50. On Kennedy, see R. Dallek, John F. Kennedy: An Unfinished Life, 1917–1963 (London: Allen Lane, 2003); on Nixon see S. Ambrose, Nixon, vol. 2 The Triumph of a Politician, 1962–73, paperback edition (London: Simon & Schuster, 1989) and Nixon, vol. 3 Ruin and Recovery, 1973–1990 (London: Simon & Schuster, 1991); on Johnson, see Dallek, Johnson, vol. 2 Flawed Giant: Lyndon Johnson and His Times, 1961–1973 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). 51. Letter, Menzies to Macmillan, 8 December 1960, Prem 11/3170. 52. Letter, Macmillan to Kennedy, 23 January 1961, Prem 11/3609. 53. FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. 1, Vietnam, no. 123, p. 349, telegram, Chief of MAAG, Saigon, to Lansdale, 25 March 1960. 54. FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. 1, Vietnam, no. 136, memorandum, Lansdale to deputy assistant secretary of defense for NSC affairs and plans, 14 April 1960. 55. FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. 1, Vietnam, no. 146, pp. 410–11, memorandum, Lansdale to Bonesteel, 25 April 1960. 56. FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. 1, Vietnam, no. 140, p. 396, letter, Durbrow to Parsons, 19 April 1960. 57. FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. 1, Vietnam, no. 149, pp. 401–4, memorandum, Durbrow to Williams, 19 April 1960. 58. Text of address, Tunku Abdul Rahman, University of Saigon, 15 October 1961, DV1061/6, FO 371/160133. 59. See minutes, C. Pestell, 25 March 1965 and letter, D. Murray to W.J. Adams, 31 March 1965, DV1017/14, FO 371/180520. Pestell noted that Lord Walston had erred in a statement made in the House of Lords. 60. On BRIAM and R. Thompson, see P. Busch, All The Way with JFK? Britain, the US and the Vietnam War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), pp. 68, 93, 95–6, 122, 129, 159, 161, 169. See also I. Beckett, ‘Robert Thompson and the British Advisory Mission to South Vietnam, 1961–1965’, Small Wars and Insurgencies vol. 8, no. 3 (1997), pp. 41–63. 61. Letter, Stewart to Warner, 10 June 1961, DV1015/100/G, FO 371/160112.

Notes 277 62. Minutes by McGhie, 19 June 1961, Cable, and Warner, 20 June 1961, DV1015/100/G, FO 371/160112. 63. Letter, H. Hohler to E. Peck, 25 September 1961, DV1015/162/G, FO 371/160116. 64. Despatch, Hohler to Home, 9 October 1961, DV1015/168, FO 371/160116. 65. Saigon to FO, 27 October 1961, DV1015/80, FO 371/160116. 66. Bangkok to FO, 27 October 1961, DV1015/181/G, FO 371/160117. 67. Despatch, Home to Hohler, 2 November 1961, DV1015/188, FO 371/160117. 68. Brief for E. Heath, 16 January 1962, DV1015/20, FO 371/166698. 69. Ibid. 70. Ibid. 71. Letter, Hohler to Peck, 15 February 1962, DV1015/49/G, FO 371/166700. 72. Ibid. 73. Letter, Peck to Hohler, 22 February 1962, DV1015/49/G, FO 371/166700. 74. Ibid. 75. Letter, Thompson to McGhie, 28 February 1962, DV1015/67/G, FO 371/166701. 76. Letter, Hohler to Warner, 4 April 1962, DV1015/100, FO 371/166702. 77. Ibid. 78. Minute, McGhie, 10 April 1962, DV1015/100, FO 371/166702. 79. Record of conversation, 28 April 1962, DV1015/120, FO 371/166703. 80. FO to Washington, enclosing text of note to Soviet Union, 31 May 1962, DV1071/75, FO 371/166731. 81. Letter, Thompson to Warner, 9 October 1962, enclosing report, 12 September 1962, DV103145/140, FO 371/166723. 82. Minute, Warner, 10 December 1962; see also minute, T.J. Everard, 7 December 1962, DV103145/150, FO 371/166724. 83. Minute, F. MacGinnis, 17 December 1962, DV103145/150, FO 371/166724. 84. Annual report, 1962, Hanoi, Blackwell to Hohler, 18 January 1963, DV1011/1, FO 371/170088. 85. Letter, Hohler to Warner, 13 June 1963, DV1015/34, FO 371/170090. 86. Letter, Blackwell to Warner, 23 May 1963, DV1015/35, FO 371/170090. 87. Despatch, Hohler to Home, 6 July 1963, DV1015/42, FO 371/170091. 88. On Cabot Lodge, see A.E. Blair, Lodge in Vietnam: A Patriot Abroad (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995). 89. Letter, R.A. Burrows to Warner, 14 August 1963, enclosing reports of meetings, 9–10 August 1963, DV1015/53, FO 371/170091. 90. Letter, Burrows to N. Trench, 18 September 1963, DV1015/53, FO 371/170091. 91. Despatch, Etherington-Smith to Home, 12 September 1963, DV1015/78, FO 371/170092. 92. Minute, Home, no date,? 5 September 1963, DV1015/70G, FO 371/170092. 93. Letter, de Zuleuta to Bridges, 10 September 1963, enclosing minute, Macmillan, 10 September 1963, DV1015/69, FO 371/170092. 94. Saigon to FO, 30 August 1963, DV1015/70G, FO 371/170092. 95. On Kennedy’s views between September and November 1963, see Dallek, Kennedy, pp. 674–86, Busch, All the Way, pp. 157–73 and F. Logevall, Choosing War: The Lost Chance for Peace and the Escalation of War in Vietnam (London: University of California Press, 1999), pp. 42–73.

278

Notes

96. Despatch, Etherington-Smith to Home, 26 September 1963, DV1015/86/G, FO 371/170093. 97. Minute, Warner, 8 October 1963, DV1015/86/G, FO 371/170093. 98. Minute, Peck, 9 October 1963, ibid. 99. Minute, Caccia, 10 October 1963, ibid. 100. Minute, Home, 12 October 1963, ibid. 101. Letter, Thompson to Peck, 30 October 1963, DV1017/43/G, FO 371/170102. 102. FO to Saigon, 1 November 1963, DV1015/105, FO 371/170094. 103. Saigon to FO 4 November 1963, DV1015/109, ibid. 104. Letter, Etherington-Smith to Warner, 13 November 1963, DV1015/124, FO 371/170096. 105. Despatch, Etherington-Smith to R.A. Butler, 4 December 1963, DV1015/133, FO 371/170096. 106. FO to Saigon, 12 December 1963, DV1015/139, FO 371/170096. 107. Ibid. 108. Letter, Thompson to Peck, 19 December 1963, DV1015/144, FO 371/170096. 109. Minute, T.J. Everard, 23 October 1963, DV1015/144, FO 371/170096. 110. Letter, Thompson to Peck, 14 January 1964, DV1017/2, FO 371/175482. Thompson was in Britain and wrote from his home near Minehead (Somerset). 111. Ibid. 112. Letter, Thompson to Peck, 22 April 1964, DV103145/70/G, FO 371/175496. 113. Minute, Cable, 25 April 1964, DV103145/70/G, FO 371/175496. 114. FO to Washington, 28 February 1964, DV103145/22, FO 371/175494. 115. Letter, Cable to Etherington-Smith, 10 March 1964, DV103145/35, FO 371/175494. 116. Despatch, Etherington-Smith to Butler, 30 June 1964, DV103145/91, FO 371/175497. 117. Minute, P. Neville-Jones, 13 July 1964, DV103145/91, FO 371/175497. 118. Hanoi to FO, 11 August 1964, DV103145/134, FO 371/175499. 119. FO to Washington, 5 August 1964, DV103145/110/G, FO 371/175498. 120. Washington to FO, 21 July 1964, Prem 11/5198. 121. Despatch, Greenhill to Butler, 17 August 1964, Prem 11/5198. 122. For the formation of the Labour government, see P. Ziegler, Wilson: The Authorised Life, paperback edition (London: HarperCollins, 1995), pp. 162–206. For discussion of Wilson’s approach to Vietnam, see A. Parker, ‘International Aspects of the Vietnam War’, in P. Lowe (ed.), The Vietnam War (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1998), pp. 196–218. 123. See Dallek, Flawed Giant, pp. 196–218. 124. Note for record, meeting, Wilson and Johnson, 7 December 1964, Prem 13/103. 125. Ibid. 126. Ibid. 127. Record of meeting in White House, 8 December 1964, Prem 13/104. 128. Ibid. 129. Ibid.

Notes 279 130. See J. Ramsden, Man of the Century: Winston Churchill and His Legend since 1945, paperback edition (London: HarperCollins, 2003), pp. 3–36. See also E. Warren, The Memoirs of Earl Warren (New York: Doubleday, 1977), pp. 261–2. 131. Letter, Callaghan to Healey, 31 December 1964, Prem 13/18. 132. Record, telephone conversation, Wilson and Johnson, 11 February 1965, Prem 13/692. See also the American record, FRUS, 1964–1968, vol. 2, no. 103, pp. 229–32, memorandum, 10 February 1965. 133. FRUS, 1964–1968, vol. 2, no. 209, p. 468 ,memorandum, M. Bundy to Johnson, 22 March 1965. 134. FRUS, 1964–1968, vol. 2, no. 254, p. 557, editorial note. 135. FRUS, 1964–1968, vol. 2, no. 330, pp. 716–17, memorandum, Bundy to Johnson, 3 June 1965. 136. Ibid. 137. FRUS, 1964–1968, vol. 3, no. 6, editorial note.

6 Britain, Cambodia and Laos, 1955–65 1. Letter, M. MacDonald to E. Peck, 20 August 1965, DU1051/22/G, FO 371/180484. 2. Ibid. 3. Annual review, despatch, Heppel to Eden, 31 January 1955, DF1011/1, FO 371/117093. 4. Phnom Penh to FO, 6 September 1955, from Littlejohn Cook, DF1019/102, FO 371/117127. 5. Minute, D. Allen, 17 May 1955, DF1019/52/G, FO 371/117125. 6. Memorandum, no date, with note by D. Allen, 9 March 1955, stating ‘Sir H. Caccia and I used this in our talks in Delhi’. 7. Minute, Eden, 15 March 1955, DF1203/19, FO 371/117207. 8. Annual report, 1956, despatch, Brain to Lloyd, 26 February 1957, DU1011/1, FO 371/129655. 9. Ibid. 10. Letter, Information department, Phnom Penh, to Information Policy department, FO, 8 March 1957 and letter, A. de la Mare to F.S. Tomlinson, 22 March 1957, DU10345/1, FO 371/129666. 11. FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. 16, no 84, pp. 253–6, memorandum, 30 September 1958. 12. Ibid. 13. Ibid. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid. 16. Letter, R. Scott to D. MacDermot, 20 April 1959, DU10345/4/G, FO 371/144353. 17. Minutes, M.D. Butler, 29 April 1959 and E. St. G. Moss, 1 May 1959, DU10345/4/G, FO 371/144353. 18. New Delhi to CRO, 8 August 1960, DU1015/100, FO 371/152691. 19. Letter, V. Martin (CRO) to F. Warner, 25 August 1960, DU1015/108, FO 371/152692.

280 Notes 20. Minutes, S. Garner, 2 September 1960 and I. Kirkpatrick, 16 January 1957, DU1015/108, FO 371/152692. 21. Minute, F. S. Tomlinson, 15 January 1957, DU1051/1, FO 371/129698. 22. Minute, Snellgrove, 29 July 1957, DU1051/4, FO 371/129698. 23. Phnom Penh to FO, 17 August 1957, DU1051/6, FO 371/129698. 24. Annual review, 1964, despatch, L. Fielding to P. Gordon Walker, 15 January 1965, DU1011/1, FO 371/180466. Fielding was charge d’affaires: the ambassador was withdrawn in June 1964 owing to the rapid deterioration in relations between Britain and Cambodia. 25. Phnom Penh to FO, 24 October 1961, DU103140/8, FO 371/160089. 26. Bangkok to FO, 25 October 1961, DU103140/10, FO 371/160089. 27. FO to Phnom Penh, 2 November 1961, DU103140/21/G, FO 371/160089. 28. Minute, Warner, 2 November 1961, DU103140/21/G, FO 371/160089. 29. Ibid. 30. Ibid. 31. Letter, MacDonald to Warner, 6 June 1962, DU1022/5, FO 371/166666. 32. Ibid. 33. Singapore to FO, relaying Pnom Penh, 11 March 1964, DU1051/2, FO 371/175435. 34. FO to Phnom Penh, 11 March 1964, DU1051/2, FO 371/175435. 35. Despatch, Murray to Butler, 16 March 1964, DU1051/13, FO 371/175435. 36. Phnom Penh to FO, 16 March 1964, DU1051/2, FO 371/175435. 37. Two telegrams, Phnom Penh to FO, 20 March 1964, DU103196/25, FO 371/175426. See also Phnom Penh to FO, 21 March 1964, DU1051/2, FO 371/175435. 38. FO to Washington, 19 March 1964, DU1051/112, FO 371/175443. 39. FO to Washington, 20 March 1964, DU1051/116, FO 371/175443. 40. FO to Certain of HM’s Representatives, 22 April 1964, DU1072/151, FO 371/175445. 41. Annual review, 1964, despatch, Fielding to Gordon Walker, 15 January 1965, DU1011/1, FO 371/180466. 42. Letter, D.F. Duncan to Cable, 18 May 1965, DU1015/13, FO 371/180467. Duncan had succeeded Fielding. 43. Phnom Penh to FO, 26 April 1965, DU103145/3, FO 371/180474. 44. Phnom Penh to FO, 18 October 1965, DU103138/6, FO 371/180472. 45. Ibid. 46. Letter, MacDonald to Peck, 20 September 1965, DU1051/22/G, FO 371/180484. 47. Despatch, Fielding to Butler, 26 June 1964, DU1061/4, FO 371/175436. 48. Valedictory despatch, Lord Talbot to Lloyd, 9 May 1956, DF1017/156, FO 371/123404. For discussion of the development of Laos, see M. Stuart-Fox, A History of Laos (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997) and Historical Dictionary of Laos second edition (London: Scarecrow Press, 2001). 49. Washington to FO, 27 April 1963, DF1022/3, FO 371/169818. 50. Report, Lt. Colonel V. Wainwright, military attaché, Saigon, to WO, 22 September 1955, DF1202/21, FO 371/117206. 51. Report, Wainwright to WO, 7 October 1955, DF1202/22, FO 371/117206. 52. Chancery, Paris, to SEAD, 25 November 1955, DF1202/24, FO 371/117206.

Notes 281 53. Minute, Cable, 17 July 1956, referring to US intelligence briefing no. 1863, 21 June 1956, DF1017/210, FO 371/123407. 54. Letter, A. de la Mare to Tomlinson, 26 July 1956, DF1017/228, FO 371/123408. 55. Letter, de la Mare to Tomlinson, 19 November 1956, DF1017/311, FO 371/123411. 56. Despatch, L.G. Holliday to Lloyd, 10 April 1957, DF1015/116, FO 371/1129470. 57. Minutes, Snellgrove, 18 May 1957, J. Riley, 31 July 1957, H. Peters, 9 August 1957, DF1015/116, FO 371/1129470. Riley noted that more should be done via radio transmission. Propaganda on the evils of communism, produced by the IRD, was directed at the elite with the intention of promoting understanding of communism. Material should be adjusted to local conditions. The IRD officer in Saigon dealt with Cambodia and Laos; more could be done through the appropriate British agencies in Singapore and Saigon. 58. Despatch, Holliday to Lloyd, 6 June 1957, DF1015/167, FO 371/129472. 59. Minutes, Snellgrove, 2 July 1957, J. Freeland, no date and J. McCormick, 25 July 1957, DF1015/167, FO 371/129472. 60. Letter, Holliday to Morland, 20 August 1957, DF1015/224, FO 371/129474. 61. FO to Vientiane, 20 September 1957, DF1015/224, FO 371/129474. 62. Valedictory despatch, Holliday to Lloyd, 31 December 1957, DF1015/332,FO 371/129477. 63. Brief for meeting of representatives of Co-Chairmen of Geneva Conference, drafted, P. Marshall, 19 June 1958, DF1071/105, FO 371/135810. 64. FO to Vientiane, 30 January 1959, DF1071/23, FO 371/143975. 65. Record, talks between Lansdowne and Roshchin, 21 July 1959, DF1071/288, FO 371/143991. 66. Record of talks, 28 July 1959, DF1071/291, FO 371/143991. 67. Vientiane to FO, 16 August 1959, DF1071/407, FO 371/143997. 68. Minute, D. Tebbit, 14 August 1959 enclosing memorandum, annex B, DF1071/414G, FO 371/143998. 69. Minute, Holliday, 11 August 1959, DF1071/432, FO 371/143999. 70. Ibid. 71. Ibid. 72. Minute, MacDermot, 14 August 1959, DF1071/432, FO 371/143999. 73. Record, conversation, Lloyd and C. Herter, 28 August 1959, DF1071/470, FO 371/144001. 74. Record, meeting, Chequers, 29 August 1959, DF1071/472A/G, FO 371/144001. 75. FO to New York, 17 September 1959, DF1071/564/G, FO 371/140008. 76. Bangkok to FO, 21 September 1959, DF1071/612, FO 371/144010. 77. Minute, MacDermot, 2 October 1959, DF1071/803/G, FO 371/144020. 78. Letter, F. Hoyar Miller to Caccia, 5 October 1959, DF1071/803/G, FO 371/144020. 79. Letter, de la Mare to Heppel, 23 November 1959, DF1071/855, FO 371/144021. 80. Despatch, J. Addis to Lloyd, 18 May 1960, DF1015/246, FO 371/152334. 81. Vientiane to FO, 9 August 1960, DF1015/358, FO 371/152341. 82. Vientiane to FO, 13 August 1960, DF1015/395, FO 371/152343. 83. FO to Washington, 15 August 1960, DF1015/404, FO 371/152344. 84. Minute, D. Ormsby Gore, 23 August 1960, DF1015/467, FO 371/152348.

282

Notes

85. Letter, Addis to Warner, 22 August 1960, DF1015/493, FO 371/152349. 86. Despatch, Addis to Lord Home, 24 August 1960, DF1015/508, FO 371/152349. 87. Despatch, Home to Addis, 16 September 1960, DF1015/508, FO 371/152349. 88. FO to Washington, 12 October 1960, DF1015/710, FO 371/152360. 89. Vientiane to FO, 13 October 1960, DF1015/711, FO 371/152360. 90. Vientiane to FO, 19 November 1960, DF1015/822, FO 371/152365. 91. Letter, Addis to Warner, 23 November 1960, DF1015/858, FO 371/152367. 92. Brief, draft for defence committee, 7 December 1960, DF1015/921, FO 371/152371. 93. Letter, Chancery, Manila, to SEAD, 21 December 1960. The Filipino foreign minister was reported to be irate at the injudicious statement by his colleague. 94. FO to Washington, two telegrams, 30 December 1960 and 1 January 1961, DF1015/1073/G, FO 371/152380. 95. Minute, Warner, 17 December 1960, DF1071/113G, FO 371/152396. 96. Letter, Warner to R. Ledward, 19 December 1960, DF1071/113G, FO 371/152396. 97. Washington to FO, 30 December 1960, DF1015/1077, FO 371/152381. 98. Memorandum, 15 May 1961, JIC(61)38(Final), Cab 158/43. 99. Memorandum, no date, ? summer 1961, JI(61)50(Final), Cab 158/44. 100. Memorandum, 1 June 1961, COS(61)176, Defe 5/113. 101. Memorandum, 24 July 1961, COS(61)238, Defe 5/115. 102. Memorandum, 14 September 1961, COS(61)325, Defe 5/117. 103. Memorandum, 15 September 1961, JIC(61)83(Final), Cab 158/44. 104. Paris to FO, 9 January 1962, DF1015/24, FO 371/166426. Sir Pierson Dixon, the ambassador in Paris, had dined with Souvanna. 105. Moscow to FO, 22 February 1962, DF1015/126, FO 371/166431. 106. Ibid. 107. Minute, A. Simons, 12 February 1962, on behalf of R. Seconde, DF1015/126, FO 371/166431. 108. The Times, 24 May 1962 and Daily Telegraph, 31 May 1962, enclosed, DF103145/40, FO 371/166458. 109. Bangkok to FO, 23 March 1962, DF1015/181, FO 371/166434. 110. FO to Washington, 5 April 1962, DF1015/210, FO 371/1663435. 111. Minutes, Warner, 7 June, Peck, 15 June, Caccia, 15 June 1962, DF1015/345, FO 371/166442. 112. Minute, Home, no date, DF1015/345, FO 371/166442. 113. Despatch, Addis to Home, 25 May 1962, DF1015/345, FO 371/166442. 114. Letter, Warner to Addis, 7 June 1962, DF1015/345, FO 371/166442. 115. FO to Washington, 18 April 1963, DF1015/41, FO 371/169808. 116. Brief for conversations with Menzies, 20 June 1963, DF1015/95, FO 371/169810. 117. Minute, Warner, 28 June 1963, DF1016/8, FO 371/169817. 118. Ibid. 119. Vientiane to FO, 19 April 1964, DF1015/25, FO 371/175165. 120. Vientiane to FO, 19 April 1964, DF1015/27, FO 371/175165. 121. Vientiane to FO, 26 April 1964, DF1015/54, FO 371/175166. 122. Vientiane to F, 28 April 1964, DF1015/59, FO 371/175166.

Notes 283 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136.

Letter, Cable to Denson, 4 May 1964, DF1015/72, FO 371/175167. Vientiane to FO, 9 May 1964, DF1015/76, FO 371/175167. Vientiane to FO, 18 May 1964, DF1015/88, FO 371/175168. Paris to FO, 1 June 1964, DF1015/96, FO 371/175168. Moscow to FO, 28 July 1964, DF1015/186, FO 371/175210. Moscow to FO, 28 July 1964, DF1015/187, FO 371/175210. Memorandum, 31 August 1964, Cab 158/53. Memorandum, 17 September 1964, COS 228/64, Defe 5/153. Annual report, 1964, despatch, Hopson to Gordon Walker, 12 January 1965, DF1041/1, FO 371/180257. Letter, Cable to Hopson, 27 January 1965, DF1041/1, FO 371/180257. Valedictory despatch, Hopson to Stewart, 30 April 1965, DF1014/1, FO 371/180258. Ibid. Despatch, Warner to Stewart, 4 July 1965, DF1015/85, FO 371/180263. Letter, Cable to Warner, 23 July 1965, DF1015/85, FO 371/180263.

7 Britain, Thailand and the Philippines, 1945–65 1. See J.A. Stowe, Siam Becomes Thailand: A Study of Intrigue (London: Hurst, 1991). 2. See P. Lowe, Great Britain and the Origins of the Pacific War: A Study of British Policy in East Asia, 1937–1941 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), pp. 176–274; R.J. Aldrich, The Key to the South: Britain, the United States and Thailand during the Approach of the Pacific War, 1929–1942 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), pp. 215–373; and N. Tarling, Britain, Southeast Asia and the Onset of the Pacific War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 48–54, 105–11, 179–84, 251–76, 342–52. 3. C. Thorne, Allies of a Kind: the United States, Great Britain and the War against Japan, 1941–45 (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1978), pp. 614–21, 679–80. 4. War cabinet memorandum, A. Eden, 13 April 1945, WP(45)249, enclosed, F2389/G, FO 371/46561. See also reports on Operation Panicle, 6 May 1945, F2389/738/G40, FO 371/46562. 5. Appendix E to Panicle report, 6 May 1945, F2389/738/G40, FO 371/46562. 6. Ibid. 7. War cabinet memorandum, C.R. Attlee, 17 February 1945, with enclosures, F1055/738/G40, FO 371/46560. 8. Letter, Thompson to N. Butler, 24 May 1946, F9031/1663/40, FO 371/54423. 9. DO to high commissioners, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, 1 December 1945, F9926/296/40, FO 371/46553. 10. Ibid. 11. Ibid. 12. Text of agreement signed, 1 January 1946, F765/4/40, FO 371/54356. 13. SACSEA to FO, 1 January 1946, F765/4/40, FO 371/54355. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid.

284 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57.

Notes New Statesman, 9 February 1946, enclosed, F2341/4/40, FO 371/54355. Ibid. Memorandum, 5 January 1946, JIC(45)325(O)(Final), Cab 81/131. Memorandum, 19 June 1946, JIC(46)59, Cab 81/133. HQ, British Troops, Bangkok, intelligence summary, no date, F9932/21/40, FO 371/54399. Bangkok to FO, 28 June 1946, F9615/327/40, FO 371/54411. Bangkok to FO, 4 July 1946, F9857/327/0, FO 371/54411. Minute, J. Addis, 1 January 1947, F8/8/40, FO 371/63877. Minute, Conference Department, 15 January 1947, F8/8/40, FO 371/63877. Minute, G. Whitteridge, 11 December 1946, F3139/8/40, FO 371/63877. Bangkok to FO, 22 March 1947, F4065/1565/40, FO 371/63910. Bangkok to FO, 26 March 1947, F4204/1565/40, FO 371/63910. Ibid. Bangkok to FO, 28 March 1947, F4344/1565/40, FO 371/63910. Ibid. Washington to FO, 28 March 1947, F4829/1565/40, FO 371/63910. Despatch, Thompson to E. Bevin, 6 April 1947, F5168/1565/40, FO 371/63910. Bangkok to FO, 9 November 1947, F14916/1565/40, FO 371/63911. Bangkok to FO, 11 November 1947, F14974/1565/40, FO 371/63911. Minute, R. Allen, 9 November 1947, F15065/1565/40, FO 371/63911. Bangkok to FO, 19 November 1947, F15371/1565/40/G, FO 371/63911. Bangkok to FO, 26 November 1947, F15673/1565/40, FO 371/63912. Singapore to FO, 28 November 1947, F15789/1565/40, FO 371/63913. Minute, R. Allen, 10 December 1947, F16098/1565/40, FO 371/63914. Letter, Lt. Colonel C. Tarver, MI2, WO, to J.O. Lloyd, 13 August 1948, F11381/21/40, FO 371/69996. FO to Washington, 22 April 1948, F5589/21/40, FO 371/69991. Minute, E. Dening, 23 January 1948, F16965/1565/40, FO 371/63915. Bangkok to FO, 4 March 1949, F3303/1019/40, FO 371/76281. Bangkok to FO, 5 March 1949, F3344/1019/40, FO 371/76281. Bangkok to FO, 6 March 1945, F3345/1019/40, FO 371/76281. Minute, Bevin, no date, F3345/1019/40, FO 371/76281. Minute, R. Scott, ibid. Letter, Scott to Thompson, 4 April 1949, F5043/1019/40, FO 371/76282. Letter, Thompson to Scott, 16 April 1949, F6416/1019/40, FO 371/76282. Letter, Thompson to Scott, 30 November 1949, F18520/G, FO 371/76288. Letter, Thompson to Scott, 16 December 1949, F19415/1058/40G, FO 371/76288. The Economist, 25 March 1950, enclosed, FS1022/1, FO 371/84356. The Times, 29 March 1950, enclosed, FS1022/1, FO 371/84356. GHQ, Far East Land Forces to MOD, 18 December 1950, FS1022/8/G, FO 371/84356. Minute, Lloyd, 6 January 1951, FS1022/8/G, FO 371/84356. FO to Bangkok, 20 December 1950, FS1017/21G, FO 371/84352. Despatch, R. Whittington to H. Morrison, 16 April 1951, FS1011/1, FO 371/92952.

Notes 285 58. Monthly summary, November 1951, Bangkok to FO, 7 December 1951, FS1013/10, FO 371/92953. 59. Despatch, G. Wallinger to A. Eden, 12 March 1952, FS1015/10, FO 371/101166. 60. Despatch, Wallinger to Eden, 10 September 1952, FS1015/60, FO 371/101168. 61. Report, L. Steventon, consul, Chiengmai, FS1041/10, FO 371/101173, and letter, Wallinger to P. Dalton, 27 February 1952, FS1041/12/G, FO 371/101173. 62. Letter, Wallinger to D. Allen, 9 September 1953, FS1015/29, FO 371/106885. 63. Letter, Wallinger to D. Allen, 28 September 1953, enclosing record of conversation with Donovan, 24 September 1953, FS1015/32/G, ibid. 64. Ibid. 65. Despatch, Whitteridge to W. Churchill, 19 May 1953, FS1016/34, FO 371/106887. 66. Memorandum, 4 February 1954, JIC(54)14(Final), Cab 158/17, part 1. 67. Memorandum, 26 February 1954, JIC(54)25, Cab 158/17, part 1. 68. Memorandum, 23 October 1954, JIC(54)75(Final), Cab 158/18, part 2. 69. Letter, B. Gage to J. Tahourdin, 15 May 1954, DS1631/3, FO 371/112295. 70. Despatch, Gage to Eden, 15 September 1954, DS1631/12, FO 371/112295. 71. Minute, D. Allen, 25 January 1955, DS1051/3, FO 371/117347. 72. Minute, I. Kirkpatrick, 21 March 1955, DS1631/21, FO 371/117360. 73. Minute, Eden, 21 March 1955, DS1631/21, FO 371/117360. 74. Letter, Sir M. Adeane (private secretary to Queen Elizabeth II) to A. Rumbold, 23 March 1955, DS1631/21, FO 371/117360. 75. Letter, M. Joy to S. Tomlinson, 18 June 1955, DS1631/82, FO 371/117360. 76. Despatch, Gage to S. Lloyd, 15 June 1956, DS10345/5, FO 371/123648. The article was written by Robert Alden and it was published originally in the New York Times, 21 May 1956. It was reprinted in the Bangkok Post, 28 May 1956. 77. Letter, Gage to Tomlinson, 12 May 1957, DS1015/28, FO 371/129611. 78. Bangkok to FO, 15 May 1957, and FO to Bangkok, 16 May 1957, DS1015/27, FO 371/129611. 79. Bangkok to FO, 17 September 1957, DS1015/46, FO 371/129611. 80. Letter, Whittington to O. Morland, 2 November 1957, DS1015/68, FO 371/129612. 81. Minute, C. Curwen, 13 July 1960, DS11345/3, FO 371/152652. 82. Despatch, Whittington to Lloyd, 13 December 1957, DS11345/3, FO 371/129626. 83. Report, naval attaché, Commander B. Andrew, 31 January 1958, DS1192/1, FO 371/136044. 84. Ibid. 85. Report, military attaché, Lt. Colonel W. Potter, 1 January 1958, DS1192/1, FO 371/136044. 86. Ibid. 87. Report, air attaché, Group Captain F. Rothwell, 31 December 1957, DS1192/1, FO 371/136044. 88. Despatch, Whittington to Lloyd, 14 February 1959, DS1015/6, FO 371/144295. 89. Minute, Curwen, 3 November 1959, DS1015/25, FO 371/144295.

286

Notes

90. Chancery (Bangkok) to SEAD, 22 July 1960, DS1193/1, FO 371/152656 and 3 November 1960, DS11338/2, FO 371/152651. 91. Valedictory despatch, Whittington to Home, 14 May 1961, DS1051/5, FO 371/160075. 92. Minute, F. Warner, 1 June 1961, DS1051/5, FO 371/160075. 93. Minute, Lansdowne, 5 June 1961, DS1051/5, FO 371/160075. 94. Ibid. 95. Minute, R. Stratton, 11 July 1961, DS1051/5, FO 371/160075. 96. Minute, Warner, 12 July 1961, DS1051/5, FO 371/160075. 97. Letter, Chancery to SEAD, 15 September 1961, with minute, J. McGhie, 29 September 1961, DS1015/20, FO 371/160070. 98. Letter, D. Gibson (Chiengmai) to T. Gatty (Bangkok), 2 September 1962, and letter, J. Dodds to C. Howells, 11 October 1962, DS103145/15/G, FO 371/166619. 99. Despatch, McKeever (Tamsui) to Home, 14 June 1963, DS1941/4, FO 371/170040. 100. Despatch, Morland (Manila) to Home, 11 June 1963, DS1941/6, FO 371/170040. 101. Letter, J. Fisher to P. Wakefield, 15 April 1964, DS1015/7, FO 371/175347. 102. Despatch, MacDermot to P. Gordon Walker, 1 January 1965, DS1011/1, FO 371/180409. 103. Letter, Rumbold to Peck, 1 April 1965, DS103145/1/G, FO 371/180417. 104. Despatch, Gibson to Rumbold (Bangkok), DS1015/28, FO 371/180412. 105. Memorandum, JIC(65)18(Final), Cab 158/56. 106. Ibid. 107. New York Times, 16 March 1955, enclosed, DP1015/3, FO 371/117317. 108. Report, R.S. Milward, 9–19 March 1949, F7679/1015/83, FO 371/76274. 109. Minute, G. Burgess, 30 May 1949, F7679/1015/83, FO 371/76274. 110. Manila to FO, 29 August 1950, FP1017/4, FO 371/84303. 111. Letter, Burgess to Ramon J. Fernandez, 11 January 1950, FP1022/1, FO 371/84304. 112. Annual review, 1950, Foulds to Bevin, 2 February 1951, FP1011/1, FO 371/92930. 113. Ibid. 114. Ibid. 115. Letter, Lansdale to Jose V. Abueva, 5 November 1962, folder, US Department of Defense, Office of Secretary of Defense: Abueva, Jose V., 1962, box 36, Lansdale Papers (Stanford, California: Hoover Institution). 116. Ibid. 117. Typed note, ‘Funds for Psychological Warfare’, no date, folder, National Defense, Dept. of, c. 1952, box 34, Lansdale Papers. 118. Manila to FO, from J. Ramage, 1 December 1953, FP1013/13, FO 371/105612. 119. Despatch, R. Clinton-Thomas to Eden, 1 March 1952, FP1015/7, FO 371/99647. 120. Despatch, Clinton-Thomas to Eden, 18 March 1952, FP1011/1, FO 371/99646.

Notes 287 121. Despatch, Clinton-Thomas to Eden, 30 September 1952, FP1194/1, FO 371/99654. 122. Manila to FO, monthly report, 4 May 1953, FP1013/5, FO 371/105612. 123. Manila to FO, 1 December 1953, FP1013/13, FO 371/105612. 124. Despatch, F. Gibbs to Eden, 2 January 1954, enclosing text of inaugural address, Magsaysay, 30 December 1953, DP1015/3, FO 371/112244. 125. Report, Major M. Reinhold, MI2(B), 7 May 1953, ‘Anti-Government Rebels in the Philippines’, FP1017/5, FO 371/105614. 126. Manila to FO 9 June 1954, DP1013/6, FO 371/112243. 127. Despatch, G. Clutton to H. Macmillan, 6 September 1955, DP1015/5, FO 371/117317. 128. Minute, Reading, 2 January 1957, DP1631/1, FO 371/123630. 129. FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. 22, no. 383, pp. 640–2, letter, Magsaysay to Dulles, 15 March 1956. 130. FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. 22, no. 384, p. 642, message, Dulles to Eisenhower, 16 March 1956. 131. FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. 22, no. 409, pp. 683–4, editorial note. 132. FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. 22, no. 423, pp. 711–12, JCS to Wilson, 27 February 1957. 133. Despatch, Clutton to Lloyd, 26 March 1957, DP1851/7, and letter, C. Ewart-Biggs to Tomlinson, 20 May 1957, enclosing comments, air attaché, DP1851/9, FO 371/129606. 134. Despatch, Clutton to Lloyd, 26 March 1957, DP1851/6, FO 371/129606. 135. Despatch, Clutton to Lloyd, 26 March 1957, DP1851/7, FO 371/129606. 136. FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. 22, no. 724, p. 713, memorandum, Armstrong to Dulles, 18 March 1957. 137. Despatch, Ewart-Biggs to Lloyd, 2 August 1957, DP1015/17, FO 371/129587. 138. Minute by Hey-Neane, 15 August 1957 on letter, Ewart-Biggs to Tomlinson, 25 July 1957, DP1081/1/G, FO 371/129590.

8 Britain, Indonesia and the Creation of Malaysia, 1959–65 1. See J.D. Legge, Sukarno: A Political Biography, third edition (Singapore: Archipelago Press, 2003). 2. See M. Jones, Conflict and Confrontation in South East Asia, 1961–1965 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), pp. 1–28. 3. See K. Conboy and J. Morrison, Feet to the Fire: CIA Covert Operations in Indonesia, 1957–1958 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1999). 4. Jones, Conflict and Confrontation, p. 43. 5. Letter, A. Adams (Singapore) to F. Warner, 15 January 1963, DH1193/1, FO 371/169931. 6. Letter, Steele-Perkins to Cable, 1 March 1963, DH1193/1, FO 371/169931. 7. Letter, E. Peck to Adams, 7 March 1963, ibid. 8. See correspondence in FO files, November–December 1964, FO 371/175313. 9. Letter, R. Selby to Cable, 10 January 1963, DH1015/1, FO 371/169879.

288

Notes

10. Letter, A. Gilchrist to Peck, 8 May 1965, DH1015/75, FO 371/180313 11. Djakarta to FO, 28 September 1965, DH1051/139, FO 371/180316. 12. FO and CRO to Certain Missions, 14 October 1965, IM1016/20, FO 371/181455. 13. Jones, Conflict and Confrontation, pp. 275–6. 14. Memorandum, 26 April 1965, JIC(65)28(Final), Cab 158/56. 15. Minute, Peck, 18 December 1964, DH1015/111/G, FO 371/175251. 16. Djakarta to FO, 7 November 1963, DH1015/89, FO 371/169894. 17. Letter, Gilchrist to Warner, 4 January 1963, DH1051/3, FO 371/169890. 18. Letter, Warner to Gilchrist, 8 January 1963, DH1051/3, FO 371/169890. 19. British Documents on the End of Empire, series B, vol. 3, ed. A.J. Stockwell, Malaya (London: HMSO, 1995), part 1, no. 8, pp. 24–5, CO-FO memorandum, August 1942. 20. British Documents on the End of Empire, series B, vol.8 , ed. A.J. Stockwell, Malaysia (London: Stationery Office, 2004), no. 25, pp. 66–8, memorandum,15 July 1960, I. Macleod, hereafter cited as Malaysia. 21. Despatch, Lord Head to CRO, 15 October 1964, Prem 13/428. 22. Ibid. 23. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 3, p. 9. 24. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 31, p. 88, despatch, W. Goode to Macleod, 30 December 1960. 25. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 39, pp. 116–17, G. Tory to D. Sandys, 26 May 1961. This telegram was based on advance information regarding the Tunku’s speech scheduled for the following day. 26. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 73, p. 219, report for ministers by A. Clutterbuck, 20 October 1961. 27. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 94, p. 281, letter, Lord Cobbold to R. Maudling, 6 March 1962. 28. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 125, pp. 335–6, letter, Tunku Yacob to H. Macmillan, 4 July 1962, forwarding message from Tunku Abdul Rahman to Macmillan. 29. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 128, p. 339, Sandys to Tory, 4 July 1962, enclosing Macmillan’s reply. 30. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 129, pp. 352–4, report, S. Garner, 10 July 1962 with appendices. 31. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 140, p. 377, editorial note. 32. Ibid. 33. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 140, pp. 385–6, agreement for establishing Federation of Malaysia. 34. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 136, pp. 373–4, letter, Macmillan to Tunku Abdul Rahman, 28 July 1962. 35. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 141, pp. 386–90, report, Lansdowne, 10 September 1962. 36. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 149, pp. 411–13, memorandum, White,15 December 1962, with editorial note. 37. MOD, situation report no.1, 12 December 1962, Prem 11/3869. 38. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 151, pp. 420–2, letter, Selkirk to Macmillan, 20 December 1962. 39. Singapore to FO, from Selkirk, 8 December 1962, Prem 11/3869. 40. Manila to FO, 8 December 1962, Prem 11/3869.

Notes 289 41. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 158, ‘The Communist Conspiracy’, paper authorised by Internal Security Council of Singapore, 1 February 1963. 42. State Department memorandum, 28 December 1962, enclosed, DH103138/2/G, FO 371/169887. 43. Letter, D. Greenhill to Warner, 16 August 1963, DH103145/9, FO 371/169888. 44. Djakarta to FO, 6 August 1963, DH1051/44/G, FO 371/169892. 45. Report, COS, 27 June 1963, COS 235/63, Defe 5/140. 46. Report, Cs-in-C, Far East, endorsed by COS, 16 July 1963, COS 253/63, Defe 5/140. 47. Memorandum, 31 January 1963, JIC(63)14, Cab 158/48. 48. Memorandum, 23 August 1963, JIC(63)71, Cab 158/50. 49. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 182, p. 510, Selkirk to Sandys, 19 June 1963. 50. Ibid. 51. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 192, p. 530, editorial note. 52. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 194, pp. 532–3, editorial note. 53. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 200, pp. 541–2, editorial note. 54. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 206, p. 546, FO to Lord Home, enclosing message, Macmillan to Kennedy, 4 August 1963. 55. Ibid. 56. Stockwell, Malaysia, no. 221, pp. 565–6, Sandys to Macmillan, 5 September 1963. 57. Stockwell, Malaysia, introduction, p. lviii. 58. Minute, Warner, 6 September 1963, DH103145/11, FO 371/169888. 59. Minute, Home, 10 September 1963, DH103145/11, FO 371/169888. 60. Djakarta to FO, 16–17 September 1963, DH1051/52, FO 371/169892. 61. Djakarta to FO, 18 September 1963, two telegrams, DH1051/52, FO 371/169892. 62. FO to Certain of HM’s Representatives, 18 September 1963, DH1051/56, FO 371/169892. 63. FO to Washington, 18 September 1963, DH103145/13, FO 371/169888. 64. Washington to FO, 18 September 1963, DH103145/13, FO 371/169888. 65. FO to Certain of HM’s Representatives, 18 October 1963, DH1051/85, FO 371/169894. 66. FO to Djakarta, 20 September 1963, DH1051/60, FO 371/169892. 67. Minute, Warner, 10 October 1963, DH1071/21/G, FO 371/169909. 68. FO to Washington, 15 October 1963, DH1071/22/G, FO 371/169909. 69. FO to Washington, 17 October 1963, DH1071/22/G, FO 371/169909. 70. Record, meeting in State Department, 16 October 1963, DH1071/31/G, FO 371/169909. 71. Ibid. 72. Ibid. 73. Ibid. 74. Djakarta to FO, 14 October 1963, DH1062/103, FO 371/169907. 75. Ibid. 76. Ibid. 77. Djakarta to FO, 12 October 1963, Prem 11/4905. 78. Djakarta to FO, 14 October 1963, Prem 11/4905. 79. Djakarta to FO, 15 October 1963, Prem 11/4905. 80. Letter, Peck to Rumbold, 30 September 1965, IM1193/155/G, FO 371/181529.

290 Notes 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88.

89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122.

Ibid. Report, 18 November 1963, COS 376/63, Defe 5/141. Report, 21 January 1964, COS 19/64, Defe 5/147. Report, 16 October 1963, JIC(63)82(Final), Cab 158/50. Report, 26 November 1963, JIC(63)89, Cab 158/50. Report, 12 May 1964, JIC(64)15(Final), Cab 158/51. Report, prepared by JIC(FE), forwarded, C-in-C, Far East, circulated to COS, 8 October 1964, Defe 5/154. On Robert Kennedy, see E. Thomas, Robert Kennedy: His Life (London: Simon & Schuster, 2000). On Johnson, see R. Dallek, Flawed Giant: Lyndon Johnson and His Times, 1961–1973 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). Minute, Lord Dundee, 21 January 1964, DH103145/8, FO 371/175261. Record, conversation at Chequers, 26 January 1964, Prem 11/5196. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Letter, D. Ormsby Gore to R.A. Butler, 29 January 1964, Prem 11/5196. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Letter, Cable to Addis, 8 April 1964, DH1091/25, FO 371/175274. Minute, Butler, 27 June 1964, DH103145/56, FO 371/175264. Djakarta to FO, 15 July 1964, DH103145/58/G, FO 371/175264. FO to Moscow, 15 July 1964, DH103145/58/G, FO 371/175264. Report, approved by COS, 13 January 1965, COS 11/65, Defe 5/156. Ibid. Ibid. Report, 14 January 1965, JIC(65)7(Final), Cab 158/56. Statement, E. Shuckburgh for NATO meeting, attached, letter, Shuckburgh to Peck, 14 January 1965, IM1193/27, FO 371/181525. CRO to Kuala Lumpur, 3 June 1965, Prem 13/430. Kuala Lumpur to CRO, 11 August 1965, Prem 13/430. CRO to British High Commissions, 11 August 1965, Prem 13/430. Personal telegram, Lee Kuan Yew to H. Wilson, 21 August 1965, Prem 13/431. Report, 16 August 1965, JIC(65)57(Final), Cab 158/59. Report, 19 August 1965, JIC(65)44(Final), Cab 158/58. Report, 2 August 1965, JIC(65)49(Final), Cab 158/59. Letter, J. Cambridge to D. Tonkin, 1 September 1965, DH1015/124, FO 371/18315. Djakarta to FO, 1 October 1965, DH1015/140, FO 371/180316. The Times, 14 October 1965, enclosed, DH1015/203, FO 371/180319. Minute, B. Burrows, 15 October 1965, DH1015/211, FO 371/180319. Despatch, Gilchrist to M. Stewart, 8 October 1965, DH1015/215, FO 371/180320. Ibid. Ibid.

Notes 291 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128.

FO to Singapore, 6 October 1965, DH1015/167, FO 371/180317. Ibid. Djakarta to FO, 11 October 1965, DH1015/179, FO 371/180318. Minute, A.J. Brown, 15 October 1965, DH1015/179, FO 371/180318. Djakarta to FO, 8 November 1965, DH1015/289/G, FO 371/180323. Djakarta to FO, 27 November 1965, DH1015/18/G, FO 371/180324.

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Index Abdul Rahman Putra Al-Haj, Tunku, 47–56, 81, 88, 134, 140, 219–43 Abdul Rashid Mahiden, 52 Abdul Razak bin Hussein, Dato, 220–2 Acheson, Dean, 74, 83 Adams, A.C., 191 Addis, John, 175–6, 179–81, 235, 253 Adenauer, Konrad, 152 Afghanistan, 78, 81 AFPFL, see Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League Ahmad Boestamam, 223 Aidit, D.N., 217, 237, 241 Air America, 206 Albania, 65 Alexander, A.V., 103 Alexandra, Princess, 122, 126 Allen, Denis, 105, 132, 160 Allen, Richard, 119, 120, 122, 195 al-Qaeda, 257n3 Alsop, Stewart, 57 American Baptist Union, 102 Amnesty International, 223 Ananda Mahidol, King, 192, 207 Anderson, Captain George, 67, 68, 266–7n121 Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League (AFPFL), 18–26, 118, 125 ANZUS (Australia, New Zealand, United States alliance), 8, 71, 83, 234 Aquino, Benigno, 212 ASEAN, see Association of Southeast Asian Nations Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), 10, 81 Attlee, Clement (1st. Earl Attlee), 1, 13, 15, 20–6, 29–41, 45, 189, 193, 246, 251 Aung Gyi, 105, 122 Aung San, 18–26, 41, 98, 99, 101, 122–3, 127 Aung San Suu Kyi, 119, 127

Auriol, Vincent, 56, 58 Australia policy of: towards Colombo Plan, 74–81; towards Indonesia, 35–41, 217, 229–43; towards Malaysia, 229–43; towards SEATO, 83–90; towards United States, 8, 71, 83, 156, 234; towards Vietnam, 156 role of, in Commonwealth, 8, 249 Austria, 173 Azahari, A.M., 222, 240 Ba Maw, 19 Ba Swe, 125 Ba U, 119 Baldwin, J.W., 102–4 Baldwin, Stanley (1st. Earl Baldwin), 159 Baling talks (1955), 52–5 Ball, W. McMahon, 35 Bandon, Air Chief Marshal the 5th. Earl of, 93 Bandung conference (1955), 159 Bangkok Post, 196, 205 Bao Dai, 28, 56–72, 128–30, 196 Barwick, Sir Garfield, 229 BBC, see British Broadcasting Corporation BCP, see Burma Communist Party Beaverbrook, 1st. Baron, 21 Bedell Smith, General Walter, 72, 84 Belgium, 58 Bell, Daniel, 209 Berger, Colonel Oliver, 105 Bevin, Ernest, 3, 5, 29, 30, 32–40, 59, 73–4, 98–9, 191–2, 194, 251 Bhumibol Adulyadej, King, 192, 200, 204 Binh Xuyen, 128, 130 Bird, Willis H., 112, 206

301

302

Index

Bishop, Max, 202 Blackburn, Raymond, 101 Blackwell, Kenneth, 145 Blair, Tony, 250 Bland, Sir Nevile, 37 Bloodworth, Dennis, 132 Blum, Leon, 32 Bo Setkya, 125 Bolivia, 58 Bonnet, Georges, 87 Borneo, British, 2, 10, 17, 80, 154, 214, 215, 218–43, 246, see also Sabah Bose, Subhas Chandra, 14 Boun Oum, Prince, 176, 181 Bourdillon, H.T., 15, 17 Bourne, General Sir Geoffrey, 100 Bowker, Richard, 101, 103, 109 Brain, Norman, 253, 261n103 Brains Trust, BBC programme, 201 Brazil, 58 BRIAM, see British Advisory Mission, South Vietnam Briggs, General Sir Harold, 45–6 British Advisory Mission, South Vietnam (BRIAM), 7, 140–8, 156 British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), 144–5, 201 British Communist Party, 74–5 British Council, 107, 163 British Services Mission, Burma (BSM), 7, 101, 102–6, 247 Bronhill, June, 272n45 Brown, A.J., 242 Brown, Horace, 179 Bruce, David, 154, 156, 234, 236 Brunei, 10, 215, 218–19, 222–3, 239–40, 246 BSM, see British Services Mission, Burma Buddhism, 105, 121, 145–7 Bundy, McGeorge, 155–6, 224 Burgess, Guy, 208–9 Burma army of, 99–127 attitudes of, towards SEATO, 120–6 colonialism restored in (1945–7), 18–26 communism in, 97–127, 247

independence achieved (1948), 26 joins Colombo Plan, 75, 80 KMT involvement in, 107–18 minorities in, 18–26, 97–127 relations of: with China, 97–8, 107–27; with Soviet Union, 78, 98–9; with United States, 97, 108–27 Burma Communist Party (BCP), 124–5 Burma Socialist Programme Party, 125 Burrows, R.A., 64 Bush, George W., 250 Butler, R.A., 63, 85, 102, 149, 164–5, 183, 234–6 Cable, James, 86–7, 90–1, 122, 124, 129–30, 132–3, 151–2, 156, 185–6, 235, 253 Cabot Lodge, Henry, 138, 146–52 Caccia, Sir Harold, 138, 180 Callaghan, James, 82, 155 Cambodia, 2, 5, 7, 27, 42, 60, 71, 80, 84, 86, 91, 130, 132, 138, 151, 158–67, 203 Campbell, Alexander, 101, 103–4 Can Lao Party, 134, 136 Canada, 8, 75, 80, 137, 142 Cao Dai, 130 Carrington, 6th. Baron, 125 Casey, Richard, 76, 87, 94 CAT, see Civil Air Transport Catholic Church, see Roman Catholic Church Celebes islands, 217, 233 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 108, 148, 179–80, 216, 240 Ceylon, 3, 4, 9, 18, 73, 77, 84, 106, 176 Chamberlain, Neville, 159 Chen Tian, 53 Chennault, General Claire L., 110, 115 Chiang Kai-shek, Generalissimo, 1, 29, 45, 69, 97, 108–9, 114, 169, 206 Chin, 20, 24 Chin Peng, 43–4, 50, 52–4 China (People’s Republic of China) British recognition of (1950), 196 civil war in, 6

Index 303 China (People’s Republic of China) – continued Geneva onference (1954) and, 66–72, 158 influence of, in Malaya, 43–5 relations of: with Burma, 97, 108–27; with Cambodia, 158; with Indonesia, 229, 241; with Laos, 184; with Thailand, 199; with Vietnam, 58, 132–3, 142, 151–2 views of SEATO towards, 83–96 Chou En-lai, 70–2, 158, 173 Christison, General Sir Philip, 33–6 Churchill, Sir Winston advocacy of détente (1953–4), 66, 68 endorsement of diplomatic solution in Indochina (1954), 66–8 funeral of (1965), 154 interest of, in Malaya (1951–5), 45, 47–8, 51 meeting with Radford and Anderson (1954), 67–8, 266–7n121 opposition to independence for colonies (1945–50), 21, 24, 26 reconciliation with U Nu over Burma (1955), 21, 118–19 retirement of, as prime minister (1955), 130–1 support for establishment of SEATO (1954), 67 CIA, see Central Intelligence Agency Civil Air Transport (CAT), 110, 115–16 Clark Kerr, Sir Archibald (1st. Baron Inverchapel), 36 Clutton, George, 212–13 Cobbold, 1st. Baron, 220 Cobbold Commission (1962), 220 Collins, General J. Lawton, 129, 130 Colombo Plan (1950–), 3, 5, 73–82 Cominform Journal, 197–8 Comintern, 28 Communist Party of Burma (CPB), 124 Conan Doyle, Sir Arthur, 217 Congo, 122 Conquest, Robert, 92 Copnall, Bainbridge, 119 Costa Rica, 58

CPB, see Communist Party of Burma Creech Jones, Arthur, 16, 23, 43 Cromwell, Oliver, 99 Cuba, 152, 153, 176 Curwen, Charles K., 202–3 Cyprus, 233 Czechoslovakia, 107 D’Abernon, 1st. Viscount, 68 Daily Mail, 25, 101 Daily Telegraph, 180 Daily Worker, 74–5, 102 Dalley, Colonel J.D., 195 D’Argenlieu, Admiral Thierry, 31–2 D’Asta, Monseigneur, 145 Davies, Ernest, 59 De Gaulle, General Charles, 27–31, 147, 165, 187 De la Mare, Arthur, 92, 95, 111, 169–70, 174, 253 De Lattre de Tassigny, General Jean, 59–62 De Lattre de Tassigny, Lieutenant Bernard, 59 Dening, Sir Esler, 30, 34–5, 58, 102, 189–91 Devonshire, 11th. Duke of, 139 Diefenbaker, John, 155 Dien Bien Phu, battle of (1954), 42, 66–8, 128, 146 Dillon, Douglas, 94 Disraeli, Benjamin (1st. Earl of Beaconsfield), 33 Donovan, William J., 138, 198 Dorman-Smith, Sir Reginald, 18–26, 41, 101, 254 Douglas-Home, Sir Alec, see Home, 14th. Earl of Driberg, Tom, 25 DRV, see Vietnam, Democratic Republic of Duff Cooper, Alfred (1st. Viscount Norwich), 29 Dulles, John Foster, 2, 66–72, 83, 87, 131, 161, 174, 212–13 Duncan, D.F., 106, 120 Dundee, 11th. Earl of, 234 Duong Van Minh, General, 149 Durbrow, Elbridge, 139, 146

304 Index Economist, The, 64, 129, 197 Eden, Anthony (1st. Earl of Avon) general election (1955) and, 130–1 Geneva Conference (1954) and, 2, 66–72, 131, 158, 171, 173, 250 policy of: towards Burma, 25, 102, 114; towards Colombo Plan, 84; towards Indochina, 29, 62, 129–31; towards SEATO, 84–7; towards Thailand, 201 succeeds Churchill as prime minister (1955), 130 Suez crisis (1956) and, 2 Eden, Pilot Officer Simon, 119 Egypt, 5, 58, 122, 193 Eisenhower, General Dwight D., 66–72, 83, 137–8, 150, 170, 176–7, 212–13, 215–16 Elizabeth II, Queen, 119, 201 Elysee accords (1949), 56–7 Etherington-Smith, Gordon, 147 Evening Standard, 156 Everard, T.J., 136 Felt, Admiral Harry D., 174 Ferguson, Colonel Bernard, 101 Field, Brigadier Leonard, 60 Fielding, Leslie, 166–7, 280n24 Force 136, 20, 99, 196 Ford, Gerald, 251 Foreign Legion, see French Foreign Legion Formosa, see Taiwan Forrestal, Michael, 234 Foulds, L.H., 29, 209 France, 6, 10, 27–32, 56–72, 76, 83, 85, 86, 108, 128–33, 162, 169, 172, 193, 246 Franco, General Francisco, 161, 192 Franks, Sir Oliver, 110, 112 French Foreign Legion, 60 Gage, Sir Berkeley, 132–3, 200, 202 Garcia, Carlos P., 213 GATT, see General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), 76 Geneva Conference (1954), 2, 9, 66–72, 128, 129–34, 158

Geneva Conference (1962), 168, 180–2 Gent, Sir Edward, 14–17, 43, 254 George VI, King, 16, 193 Germany, 27, 106 Gibbs, Frank S., 57 Gilbert, W.S., 30 Gilchrist, Sir Andrew, 218, 224, 228–43, 254 Gladstone, William E., 33 Goldwater, Barry, 152 Gollan, John, 74–5 Goode, Sir William, 219 Gordon Walker, Patrick, 126, 153, 165–6 Gore-Booth, Sir Paul, 105, 119, 254 Gracey, General Douglas, 29–30 Graham, Frank P., 39 Grant, J.A., 107 Greece, 58 Green, Marshall, 242 Greenhill, Denis, 152, 224 Grey, Paul, 98, 101 Griffiths, James, 46 Grimond, Jo, 50 Gromyko, Andrei, 183 Gruening, Ernest, 152 Gubbins, General Sir Colin, 101 Guinea, 176 Gulf of Tonkin incident (1964), 152 Gurkha, troops, 109, 237 Gurney, Sir Henry, 43–7, 254 Hammarskjold, Dag, 161, 172 Harkins, General Paul D., 143, 144 Harlech, Lord, see Ormsby Gore, Sir David Harriman, W. Averell, 168, 178, 223, 227–9 Harvey, Sir Oliver, 58 Hatta, Mohammad, 34, 39, 242 Hayter, Sir William, 101 Head, 1st. Viscount, 230, 238–9 Healey, Denis, 153, 155, 238 Heath, Edward, 142 Heppel, R.P., 159 Herald, The (Melbourne), 78 Herter, Christian, 161, 173 Hey-Neane, D.R., 214 Hirohito, Emperor, 10

Index 305 Ho Chi Minh British assessments of, 64–6 charisma of, 64–6, 247 early career of, 6, 27–8 Geneva Conference (1954) and, 66–72, 128 leader of Vietminh, 27–32, 128 negotiations with France conducted by (1946), 31–2 opposition of, to United States (1954–69), 134 proclamation of DRV (1945) by, 30, 42 Hohler, Harry, 141, 143, 145–6, 254 Holland, see Netherlands Holland, Sidney, 9 Holliday, Leslie G., 170 Home, 14th. Earl of (Sir Alec DouglasHome), 121, 142, 147, 153, 176, 180, 228–9, 231, 234, 238 Honduras, 58 Hong Kong, 81, 177 Hopson, Donald, 184–5 Hoyer Millar, Sir Frederick, 174 Hukbalahap movement, 208–12 Hutton, General Sir Thomas, 101 ICC, see International Control Commission, Cambodia ICC, see International Control Commission, Laos ICC, see International Control Commission, Vietnam ICP, see Indochina Communist Party ILP, see Independent Labour Party Independent Labour Party (ILP), 38 India Cambodia and, 132, 133, 160 Colombo Plan and, 74, 77, 78–9 independence achieved (1947), 3 Indian National Army, 14 relations of: with Britain, 8–9, 73–82, 86; with Burma, 106; with Cambodia, 8–9, 160–7; with Commonwealth, 8 response of: to Colombo Plan, 73–82; to SEATO, 78, 84, 86 Indochina (1945–54), 27–32, 34, 56–72, 190

Indochina Communist Party (ICP), 27–32 Indonesia American and British intrigues in, 216, 247 communism in, 217, 224, 240–2 confrontation over Malaysia, 224–43 relations with Burma, 106, 215 struggles of, against the Netherlands, 32–41, 224 International Control Commission, Cambodia, 71, 171 International Control Commission, Laos, 71, 171, 172, 181, 184 International Control Commission, Vietnam, 71, 128, 137, 144, 171 Iran, 58, 81 Ireland, 27 Ismay, General Sir Hastings, 29 Italy, 58 Jacobs-Larkcom, E.H., 116 Japan end of Pacific War (1945) and, 4, 12, 28, 32–4 forces in Southeast Asia (1945–6), 32–4 GATT and, 76 joins Colombo Plan, 76 occupation of Burma (1942–5) by, 106, 215 occupation of Indonesia (1942–5) by, 32–4, 79, 224–5 peace treaty (1951) with, 112 renewed interest of, in Southeast Asia, 92, 134 Java, 34–5, 217 Jebb, Sir Gladwyn, (1st. Baron Gladwyn), 114 Johnson, Lyndon B. election campaign (1960) and, 138 election campaign (1964) and, 150, 153 experience of, in Senate, 153 funeral of Churchill (1965) and, 154 policy of, towards Indonesia and Malaysia, 231–43

306

Index

Johnson, Lyndon B. – continued policy of, towards Vietnam, 82, 150–7 succeeds Kennedy as president (1963), 149, 231 telephone conversation with Wilson (1965), 155 Jones, Howard M., 228, 230, 235–6 Jordan, 58 Joy, M.L., 63 Judd, Walter H., 138 Kachin, 20, 23, 199 Karen, 20–6, 97–102, 118, 124, 199, 206 Karenni, 24 Katanga, 122 Kennedy, John F. assassination of (1963), 149, 250 charisma of, 138, 250 election of, as president (1960), 138, 177 interest of, in Indochina (1948–60), 138 policy of: towards Indonesia and Malaysia, 223–32; towards Laos, 177–87; towards Vietnam, 142–9 relationship with Macmillan, 2, 226, 231 Kennedy, Robert F., 231, 233–5 Khruschev, Nikita S., 77, 165, 168, 183 Killearn, 1st. Baron, 4–5, 36–7 King, Harold, 59 Kirkpatrick, Sir Ivone, 163, 201, 254 Kishi Nobusuke, 92, 134 KMT, see Kuomintang Knight, Sir Henry, 22–3 Knowland, William F., 66, 83, 257n7 Kong Le, Captain, 174, 181–3 Korea, Democratic People’s Republic of (North Korea), 58, 109 Korea, Republic of (South Korea), 58, 81, 83, 92 Korean War (1950–3), 2, 59, 69, 73, 83, 108–11, 155, 178, 250 Kuomintang (KMT), 5, 13, 44, 61, 90, 97, 107–19, 168, 191, 198–9, 205–6

Lai Tek, 13, 44 Lambton, Viscount, 136 Lansdale, General Edward M., 7, 138–9, 209–11 Lansdowne, 8th. Marquess of, 79–80, 93, 164, 172, 204–5, 221 Laos, 2, 5, 7, 27, 42, 60, 66, 71, 80, 84, 86, 91, 94–5, 130, 132, 138, 150–1, 158, 167–87, 203 Laski, Harold, 24 Laurel, Jose P. Jr., 213 Lava, Jesus, 212 Lawson, Jack, 36 Le Van Kim, General, 149 Lee, Henry Hau-Shik, 16 Lee Kuan Yew, 4, 223, 226–43, 246 Lenin, V.I., 6, 28 Lennox-Boyd, Alan (1st. Viscount Boyd), 55 Li Mi, General, 111–12, 114 Lim Chin Siong, 223 Lincoln, Abraham, 119, 120 Linggadjati agreement (1947), 37 Listowel, 5th. Earl of, 25–6 Liu Shao-ch’i, 209 Lloyd, J.O., 197 Lloyd, Selwyn, 173, 175 Lloyd George, David (1st. Earl LloydGeorge), 9, 100 Loewen, General Sir Charles, 88 Luang Vichit, 163 Lucas, Squadron-Leader J., 191 Luxembourg, 58 Lyttelton, Oliver (1st. Viscount Chandos), 48, 50, 51 Macapagal, Diasdado, 206, 213–14, 223, 225, 234 MacArthur, General Douglas, 4, 59, 109–10 MacCleary, A.N., 119 MacDermot, Sir Dermot, 163, 174, 206, 255 MacDonald, Malcolm assessments submitted by: of Bao Dai, 57–8, 63–4, 129; of Ne Win, 121, 123 career of, 255

Index MacDonald, Malcolm – continued character of, 5 reports submitted by: on Burma, 103–4, 121–4; on Cambodia, 158–67; on communism, 57–8, 63–4, 129; on Indochina (1945–54), 57–8, 63–4, 129; on Indonesia, 40; on Malaya, 16–18; on Thailand, 195; on Vietnam, 129 MacDonald, Ramsay, 159 MacGillivray, Sir Donald, 51, 255 MacGinnis, F., 144–5 Mackenzie, Colin, 196 Macleod, Iain, 218 MacMichael, Sir Harold, 15 Macmillan, Harold (1st. Earl of Stockton) approach of: to Indochina (1955–7), 131; to Laos (1959–63), 173–7; to Malaya (1957–62), 55–6, 220–1; to Vietnam (1961–3), 142–3, 144, 147 Cobbold Commission (1962) and, 220, 221 endorsement by, of creation of Malaysia, 220–1 establishment by, of cordial relationship with Kennedy (1961–3), 141–3, 144, 149, 231 persuades Churchill to meet U Nu (1955), 21, 118–19 placates Tunku Abdul Rahman (1962), 220, 221 resignation of, as prime minister (1963), 149, 231 succeeds Eden as prime minister (1957), 55 support of, for BRIAM in Malaya, 140–1, 149 works to improve relations with USA, 131, 142–3, 144, 226, 231 Madagascar, 59 Magsaysay, Ramon, 7, 85, 208–14, 248 Makins, Sir Roger, 84 Malan, D.F., 8 Malay Nationalist Party (MNP), 16, 44

307

Malaya changes in economy and society of (1945–57), 17–18, 42–56 communist rebellion in (1948–89), 6, 42–56 Federation of (1948), 43–56 independence achieved (1957), 51–6 Japanese occupation of (1942–5), 13–15 relations of, with Singapore, 42 Union of (1946–7), 14–17, 43 views in concerning SEATO, 55–6, 88 Malayan Communist Party (MCP), 43–56, 194, 233 Malaysia antecedents of, 10, 219–21 British approach to, 154, 219–43 Brunei and, 219 Indonesia and, 220–43 Philippines and, 223–43 Singapore and, 219 United States and, 223–43 Maldive Islands, 81 Manalan, Manuel, 213 Manchester Guardian, 75 Mansfield, Mike, 177 Mao Tse-tung, 2, 6–7, 44, 69, 178, 196, 207, 247 Marshall, David, 52, 54 Marshall, General George C., 39 Maudling, Reginald, 76, 220 Maung Gyi, 101 McCarthy, Joseph, 66, 248 McNeil, Hector, 38 MCP, see Malayan Communist Party Meiklereid, E., 31 Mendes-France, Pierre, 61–2, 70 Menon, Krishna, 132 Menzies, Sir Robert, 9, 139, 181 Meo, 206 Merchant, Livingston, 111, 177 Milman, Malcolm, 274n127 MNP, see Malay Nationalist Party Mocatta, M.M., 106 Mohamad Ali, 87 Molotov, Viacheslav, 69, 72 Montagnard, 136, 150 Montague-Brown, Anthony, 118–19

308 Index Montini, Cardinal (Pope Paul VI), 261n110 Moros, 209 Morrison, Herbert, 112 Morse, Wayne, 152 Moss, E.H. St.G., 136 Mossman, James, 144 Mountbatten, Admiral Lord Louis (1st. Earl Mountbatten), 4, 12, 14, 18, 20, 29, 31, 125, 189 Murray, Peter, 100–1 Mussolini, Benito, 224 Naga, 24 Nai Khuang, 194 Nash, Walter, 9, 80, 94 Nasution, General Abdul Haris, 217, 224, 232, 237 National United Front (NUF), 125 NATO, see North Atlantic Treaty Organization Navarre, General Henri, 66 Ne Win, General BSM and, 103–6, 247 character of, 104–5, 120–1, 126 head of army, 103–6, 118–27 Macmillan’s opinion of, 126 Malcolm MacDonald’s opinion of, 121, 123 reaction of, to incursion by KMT, 117–18 seizure of power by (1962), 3, 121–7 supports Japan (1940–5), 18, 99 Nehru, Jawaharlal approach of, toward Commonwealth, 8–9, 249 attitude of, towards communism, 249 foreign policy of, 38, 76–9 nonalignment and, 86 SEATO and, 86 Nepal, 80 Netherlands, 10, 18, 32–41, 246 Neville-Jones, Pauline, 152 New Guinea, 41, 81, 224, 229, 232 New Statesman, 191 New York Herald Tribune, 57 New Zealand

ANZUS and, 8, 83, 224 Colombo Plan and, 80 Commonwealth and, 8, 249 Indonesia and, 35, 229 Malaysia and, 229 SEATO and, 83, 85, 93–5 Vietnam and, 58, 156 Newsweek, 166 Ngo Dinh Diem, 7, 63, 87, 128, 131–49, 164 Ngo Dinh Luyen, 142 Ngo Dinh Nhu, 130, 134–49 Nixon, Richard M., 7, 66, 138, 251 Nolting, Frederick, 146 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 83, 233 Norway, 58 Nu, U, 19, 24–6, 41, 97, 99–102, 118–20, 247 NUF, see National United Front Observer, The, 132 Office of Strategic Services (OSS), 28, 196, 199 Olver, S.J.L., 104 Onn bin Jaa’far, Dato, 16, 47, 52 Ormsby Gore, Sir David (5th. Baron Harlech), 152, 174, 228–30 OSS, see Office of Strategic Services Oun Sananikone, 182 Owen, Frank, 21, 100–1 Pacific War (1941–5), 3, 10, 27 Pakistan Colombo Plan and, 74–8 Commonwealth and, 9 independence of (1947), 3 membership of SEATO and, 85–96 relations of: with Afghanistan, 81; with Burma, 122; with India, 85, 91 Palestine, 43, 161 Panglong agreement (1947), 24 Pan-Malayan Islamic Party (PMIP), 52 Panorama, BBC programme, 144–5 Parkes, Roderick, 134–5 Parsons, Jeff, 92, 173, 174 Partei Komunis Indonesia (PKI), 215, 217, 227, 234, 240–2, 247

Index 309 Pathet Lao, 168–87 Pearce, General C.E., 19 Pearn, B.R., 64, 99, 133, 137 Pearson, Lester B., 9 Peck, Sir Edward, 143, 148, 217, 231–2, 255 Pedder, Wing-Commander I.M., 205 Peron, General Juan D., 85 Persia, see Iran Petain, Marshal Philippe, 27 Pethick-Lawrence, 1st. Baron, 20, 22 Pham Van Dong, 72 Pheng Pongsavan, 170 Phibul Songkram, Field Marshal, 188–202 Philippines, 7, 13, 29, 58, 75, 79, 80, 85–6, 89, 115, 138, 206, 208–14, 223–43, 247 Phoumi Nosavan, General, 174–80 Pilsudski, Marshal Josef, 68 Pinochet, General Augusto, 195 PKI, see Partei Komunis Indonesia PMIP, see Pan-Malayan Islamic Party Po, Sir San C., 22 Poland, 161 Portugal, 20, 58 Pote Sarasin, 88, 96 Potsdam conference (1945), 29 PRC, see People’s Republic of China Pridi Phanomyong, 188–95 Profumo, John, 55 Pugh, General L.H.O., 90 Puttucheary, James, 223 Quinim Pholsena, 184 Quirino, Elpidio, 211–12 Radford, Admiral Arthur W., 66–9, 266–7n121 Rahman, Abdul, see Abdul Rahman Rance, General Sir Hubert, 19–26, 255 Reading, 2nd. Marquess of, 76, 85, 134, 212 Reagan, Ronald, 250 Reinhold, Major Miles, 211 Republic of China, see Taiwan Reuter’s News Agency, 59 Rhee, Syngman, 169, 201

Roberts, Sir Frank, 179 Robertson, Walter, 174 Rockefeller, Nelson A., 138, 152 Roman Catholic Church, 33, 132, 136, 211, 261n110 Romulo, General Carlos, 169 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 28, 153, 189, 231 Roshchin, N.V., 172 Rothermere, 2nd. Viscount, 21, 101 Royal Dutch Shell Company, 224 Rumbold, Sir Anthony, 62, 231 Rusk, Dean, 112, 153, 155, 182, 223, 229 Russia, see Soviet Union Sabah, 232, 239, 246 Sacks, I. Milton, 64–5 Sadler’s Wells Opera Company, 107, 272n45 St. Laurent, Louis, 9 San Francisco peace treaty (1951), 112 Sandys, Duncan, 56, 93–4, 227, 234–5 Sao Shwe Thaike, 120 Sarawak, 80, 218, 246 Sargent, Sir Malcolm, 201 Sargent, Sir Orme, 98 Sarit Thanarat, Field Marshal, 163, 174, 180, 198, 202–6 Saunders, Pamela, 230 Saw, U, 20, 25, 26 Scott, Sir Robert, 74, 88–9, 91, 93, 109, 114, 131, 162, 196 Scranton, William, 152 Sea Supply Company, 112 SEAC, see Southeast Asia Command SEATO, see Southeast Asia Treaty Organization Seconde, Reginald, 95, 255 Selkirk, 10th. Earl of, 146–7, 222, 226, 255 Seni Pramoj, 189, 194 Serpell, David, 85 Shan, 23–4, 108–20, 206 Shell, see Royal Dutch Shell Company Shinwell, Emanuel, 46, 104 Siam, see Thailand Sihanouk Norodom, King, 158–67

310

Index

Singapore communism in, 219 defence issues concerning, 62, 79, 86, 178, 194, 224 Malaya and, 215, 219 Malaysia and, 10, 45, 215, 218–19, 238 SEATO and, 87, 89–90 Sjahrir, Sutan, 17, 35 Slessor, Marshal of the RAF Sir John, 200–1 Slim, Field Marshal Sir William, 18, 46 Smith, General Walter Bedell, see Bedell Smith Smith Dun, General, 99–103 Smuts, Field Marshal Jan C., 8, 9, 35 Snellgrove, J.A., 161, 171 Son Ngoc Thanh, 159 Souphanouvong, Prince, 170, 180, 183 South Africa, Union of, 8, 35, 249 Southeast Asia Command (SEAC), 3, 4, 13–14 Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO), 2, 5, 8, 55–6, 76–7, 83–96, 119–22, 160, 163–4, 205, 247–9 Souvanna Phouma, Prince, 167–87 Soviet Union Geneva conference (1954), 69–72, 158 Geneva conference (1962), 171–2 lack of interest of, in Southeast Asia (1945–53), 6, 44 relations of: with Indonesia, 240; with Thailand, 204 renewed interest of, in Southeast Asia (1954–65), 77–9, 161, 167–87, 204 rivalry of, with China, 179 Spain, 58, 206 Spanish Civil War (1936–9), 37 Speaight, Richard, 104 Spender, Sir Percy, 74 Stalin, Josef, 6, 24, 28, 44 Steele-Perkins, Colonel M.L., 216 Stephenson, Hugh, 128, 130 Stevenson, Noel, 101 Stewart, Cosmo, 136, 141

Stewart, Michael, 82, 155, 241 Stikker, Dirk, 39–40 Stilwell, General Joseph W., 4 Strachey, John, 46 Straits Settlements, 14 Strauss, Franz-Josef, 152 Subandrio, 237 Suez crisis (1956), 137, 161, 169–70 Suharto, General, 217 Sukarno ambivalence of, toward communism, 216, 241, 247 character of, 215–16 health of, 216–18, 237 hostility of: toward Britain, 216, 228–43; toward Malaysia, 223–43 policy toward United States, 230–43 political decline of, 8, 10, 242 role of army in decline of, 240–2 struggle of, against the Netherlands, 33–41 Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 30 Sulzberger, C.L., 208 Sumatra, 34, 216, 232, 236 Sweden, 58, 171, 193 Swettenham, Sir Frank, 15 Switzerland, 58, 171, 193 Tahourdin, John, 84–6, 255 Taiwan (Republic of China) American support for, 83 British representation in, 7, 116 end of Chinese civil war and, 7, 107 involvement in Laos, 172, 182 support for KMT in Burma, 108–18, 205 Talbot de Malahide, 8th. Baron, 167 Tan Cheng Lock, Sir, 16, 49, 52 Tardini, Cardinal, 261n110 Taruc, Luis, 212 Taylor, General Maxwell D., 12, 144, 151 Tebbit, D.C., 172 Temple, General Bertram, 103–4 Templer, Field Marshal Sir Gerald, 48–51, 200, 256 Terauchi Hisaichi, Field Marshal, 31

Index Thailand British desire for retribution against (1945–6), 3, 190–1, 207, 246–7 devaluation of pound (1949) and, 196 development of monarchy in, 188, 192 dominance of army in, 188, 194–208 joins Colombo Plan, 75 joins SEATO, 85–96 Pacific War and, 132–3, 189, 207, 246–7 role of United States in, 198–208 Vietnam War and, 206–7 Thant, U, 125–6, 165, 227 Thatcher, Margaret (Baroness Thatcher), 250 Thi Han, U, 105 Thompson, Major Jim, 196 Thompson, Sir Geoffrey, 108, 189, 193–7, 256 Thompson, Sir Robert, 7, 140–8, 156 Time, 230 Times, The, 180, 241 Tin Tut, U, 99 Tito, Marshal Josip B., 65–6 Tomlinson, F.S., 201 Tory, Sir Geofroy, 219–20 Townshend, Group Captain Peter, 117 Tran Van Dong, General, 149 Truman, Harry S., 29, 109–10, 154, 210 Tulloch, Colonel John C., 100–4 Turkey, 107 United Malays National Organization (UMNO), 3, 16, 47–56 United Nations (UN), 39–40, 114, 126, 237 United States of America (USA) policy of: toward Burma, 97–8, 107–18, 122–3; toward Cambodia, 158–66; toward China, 66, 85–96; toward Colombo Plan, 74–80; toward Indochina (1945–54), 57–72; toward Indonesia, 223–43; toward Laos, 167–87; toward Malaysia, 223–43; toward

311

SEATO, 8, 85–96; toward Thailand, 3, 196–208; toward the Philippines, 208–14; toward Vietnam (1955–65), 128–57 support of, for KMT in Burma, 107–18 van Kleffens, E.N., 33–4 van Mook, H.J., 36 van Zeeland, Paul, 39 Vatican, 33, 58, 261n110 Victoria and Albert Museum, 126 Vietcong, 136, 145, 150 Vietminh, 7, 28–32, 128, 130, 134, 137, 180, 246 Viet Nam Quoc Dan Dang (VNQDD), 27 Vietnam, Democratic Republic of (North Vietnam) establishment of (1945), 30 Geneva conference and (1954), 69–72 intervention of, in Laos, 184 recognition of, by China and Soviet Union (1950), 58 SEATO and, 95–6 war of: against France (1946–54), 56–72; against United States (1959–75), 137, 152–7 Vietnam, Republic of (South Vietnam) establishment of (1955), 130–4 friction with Cambodia, 161 overthrow of Diem (1963), 145–9 rise of military in, 147–57 United States and, 128–57 Vivian, Captain David, 100 VNQDD, see Viet Nam Quoc Dan Dang Wa, 24, 112 Wainwright, Colonel V.M., 168–9 Wallinger, Geoffrey, 198–9 Walshe, General P., 19 Ward, Air Commodore E.L.S., 105 Warner, Frederick, 95, 117, 121–2, 141, 144, 164, 177, 185, 204, 229, 255

312

Index

Warren, Earl, 154 Wedemeyer, General Albert C., 29 Western Enterprises, 115 Weygand, Marshal Maxime, 68 White, Sir Dennis, 222 White, Sir Dick, 101 Whitteridge, Gordon, 124, 256 Whittington, Sir Richard, 92–3, 198, 202, 204–5, 256 Wilhelmina, Queen, 33, 39

Williams, General Samuel T., 139 Willkie, Wendell L., 234 Wilson, Harold, 2, 9, 82, 153–7, 231, 238–9, 250 Woodhall, Sidney, 223 Yao, 206 Yugoslavia, 58, 65–6 Yunnan, 97, 111, 117, 206

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Over Thirty Years: The United States and the Legacy of the Vietnam War (Global Conflict and Security Since 1945)

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Contending Perspectives on Global: Coherence and Contestation

World Food Security: A History since 1945

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The Global Economic System since 1945

Terrorism and Global Security

Central and Southeast European Politics since 1989

EU Foreign and Security Policy: Towards a Neighbourhood Strategy

Britain and the Origin of the Vietnam War: UK Policy in Indo-China, 1943-50 (Global Conflict Since 1945)

Revolution, Reform and Regionalism in Southeast Asia: Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam (Routledge Contemporary Southeast Asia Series)

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Contending With Nationalism and Communism: British Policy Towards Southeast Asia, 1945-65 (Global Conflict and Security since 1945)

Stalin's Cold War: Soviet Foreign Policy, Democracy and Communism in Bulgaria, 1941- 48 (Global Conflict and Security Since 1945)

Soviet Policy towards South Asia since 1970

The German Question and the International Order, 1943-48 (Global Conflict and Security Since 1945)

Nationalism and Ethnic Conflict

Japan's Asia Policy: Regional Security and Global Interests

Maritime Security in Southeast Asia (Routledge Security in Asia Series)

Imperial Alchemy: Nationalism and Political Identity in Southeast Asia

Imperial Alchemy: Nationalism and Political Identity in Southeast Asia

Southeast Asia

Security and Post-Conflict Reconstruction (Routledge Global Security Studies)

Security and Post-Conflict Reconstruction (Routledge Global Security Studies)

Contending with Terrorism: Roots, Strategies, and Responses (International Security Readers)

Britain and Regional Cooperation in Southeast Asia 1945-1949 (LSE)

Southeast Asia: Patterns of security cooperation

The Security Dilemmas of Southeast Asia

Decentralization, Forests and Rural Communities: Policy Outcomes in Southeast Asia

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Over Thirty Years: The United States and the Legacy of the Vietnam War (Global Conflict and Security Since 1945)

United States, Britain and the Transatlantic Crisis: Rising to the Gaullist Challenge, 1963-68 (Global Conflict and Security since 1945)

Contending Perspectives on Global: Coherence and Contestation

World Food Security: A History since 1945

Oil, Islam, and Conflict: Central Asia since 1945 (Reaktion Books - Contemporary Worlds)

Oil, Islam, and Conflict: Central Asia since 1945 (Reaktion Books - Contemporary Worlds)

The Global Economic System since 1945

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Central and Southeast European Politics since 1989

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