Cambridge History of Southeast Asia 1. To 1800 Volume 1-418-475

CHAPTER
7
POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT BETWEEN THE
SIXTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES
The immense cultural diversity of Southeast Asia and the linguistic skills
required to approach the sources have tended to encourage localized
rather than general studies of the region. The yawning gaps in our
knowledge, the difficulties in interpreting information and the very real
differences within even the larger divisions of 'island' and 'mainland' do
not facilitate efforts to draw the Southeast Asian past together. What can
the highly literate, Sinicised elite of seventeenth-century Vietnam have in
common with the more oral, Muslim courts of the Malay states? Is it
possible to conceive of a Shan community in the hills of upper Burma as
sharing in any sense the same world as villagers on a small isolated
island in eastern Indonesia? At times it seems that the more closely one
approaches the material, the more elusive a common history becomes. Yet
the longer view may make the task less formidable. From a contemporary
vantage-point the most significant development of the pre-modern period
is the slow movement towards the larger political groupings which were to
form the bases of later nation-states. This movement was by no means
irrevocable, nor was it everywhere apparent. But whereas throughout
Southeast Asia the 'states' at the beginning of the sixteenth century only
generally approximate those we know today, three hundred years later the
current shape of Southeast Asia is clearly discernible. It is the process
which brought this about which we shall now examine.
THE POLITICAL LANDSCAPE

Reconstruction of early Southeast Asian history has understandably
focused on those places which have left tangible evidence in the form of
monuments or some kind of documentation. In effect this has encouraged
an interpretation of Southeast Asia's past as a progression from one 'great
state' to another. But the historical dominance of an Angkor or a Pagan can
sometimes lead us to forget that they were a coalescence of local power
centres, and that whatever cohesion they attained was at best tenuous. It
was the political fragmentation of Southeast Asia which often struck early
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POLITICAL DEVELOPMENT 403
European commentators. Marco Polo saw north Sumatra as a place where

'there are eight kingdoms and eight crowned kings . . . every kingdom has
a language of its own'; in the same vein a Portuguese, whose country had
been under one monarch since the eleventh century, remarked that the
Laos appeared to have 'so many kingdoms'. 1
The 'polycentred' nature of pre-modern Southeast Asia is traceable to a
number of factors. First, it is useful to remember that much of the region,
even into modern times, has been occupied by peoples who are basically
tribal. The essence of a tribal grouping is that it is normally 'not a political
organization but rather a socia-cultural-ethnic unity'. 2 Fission into segments,
frequently hostile to each other, is common, although these segments can
readily act together against any shared threat from outside. But because
tribal segments tend to see themselves as equivalent, and because they are
often economically and socially self-sustaining units, the normal 'political'
condition tends towards disunity rather than towards a permanently
organized state.
A second consideration is the potential for division which results from
the character of leadership in most Southeast Asian societies. Influence
over others can be due to inherited rights, but it more frequently reflects
personal standing and exceptional ability, subsumed in the notion that
some individuals possessed of extraordinary 'fortune' or 'luck' will be able
to control the vagaries of fate. This deep-rooted attitude to leadership
coexists with the concept that certain lineages are innately superior
because of their descent from some great ancestor. Thus the archetypal
Malay hero who had become entrenched in folk legend is known as 'Hang
Tuah' (the fortunate lord), while Ramathibodi of Ayutthaya (r. 1491-1529)
is described as one of the 'most fortunate kings'. Similarly a Shan chronicle
attributes the success of a local saw-bwa (tribal head) to his complex but
favourable horoscope 'when Lagana was in the realm of Fasuddho . . . and
because Venus was together with Lagana'. 3
Frequently the 'luck' of such a person was made evident to others by the
discovery of some unusual object in which was vested a supernatural
quality. Javanese babads (verse chronicles), for example, relate the story of a
coconut owned by a palmwine tapper. Any individual who drank the milk
of this coconut was destined to become the founder of a future royal house
in Java. The winetapper, however, allowed the future Lord of Mataram to
drink the milk in his place, and it was thus that the dynasty which ruled
central Java during the seventeenth century was founded. The importance
of holding such sacred objects is especially apparent in traditions associ-
ated with the Bugis and Makassarese communities of Sulawesi. Here
legends describe how the special aspects of the original founder were
recognized when he or she came across an item such as a rusty plough-
share, a seed or an unusually shaped stone. These then became the
1
Henry Yule, ed. and trans., The Book ofSer Marco Polo, 3rd edn, London, 1926, II. 284; C. R.
Boxer, South China in the Sixteenth Century, London, 1953, 70.
2
Marshall D. Sahlins, 'The segmentary lineage: an organization of predatory expansion', in
Ronald Cohen and John Middleton, eds, Comparative Political Systems; Studies in the Politics of
Pre-Industrial Societies, New York: American Museum of Natural History, 94.
3
Sao Saimong Mangrai, The Padaeng Chronicle and the Jentung State Chronicle Translated,
Michigan Papers on South and Southeast Asia, no. 19, University of Michigan, 1981, 250.

404 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
KYAUKSE
Wa
Pagan BURMA | J • Ksngtung
Map 7.1 Mainland Southeast Asia, 1500-1800.

palladium (gaukang) of the community and the person who held it the
ruler. Throughout Southeast Asia an individual who was successful in
obtaining control of these power-laden objects was capable of mounting a
formidable challenge to potential rivals.
The proliferation of localized areas of authority was also a reflection of
Southeast Asia's geography. The extensive river basins of the mainland
and Java may seem conducive to human settlement, but villages were
often separated by wide stretches of forest and by hilly ranges, so that few
people travelled regularly outside their own district. This social world was
even more limited as one moved away from more populated areas. The
mountain chains dissecting the highlands, the network of rivers cutting
through dense jungle, the inhospitable swamp forests along the coasts, the
thousands of islands scattered across the archipelago, all served to encour-
age the growth of communities which were physically distanced from each
other. Styles of dress, social customs and particularly language fostered a
local identification with a particular area. In the Philippines today, for
instance, eighty languages are still spoken, and on the island of Panay
alone there are said to be about forty separate dialects.
The societies which developed naturally from a fragmented environ-
ment were infused by attitudes which conceived of the landscape as an
array of power-points, each the realm of one or more divinities regarded
as manifestations of potent forces within the earth. From Assam to
the easternmost islands of the archipelago, clusters of kinship-bonded
communities were inextricably linked to ancestor spirits associated with
mountains, trees, rivers, caves, rocks and to particular areas under the
sway of supernatural deities. As Paul Mus has cogently put it, 'the locality
itself is a god'. 4 In some areas this delineation of a 'locality' was clearly
determined by landmarks like prominent mountains or watersheds, and
the Semai of the Malay peninsula still commonly claim a 'land' that takes
its name from a recognized geographical feature such as a small stream.
Elsewhere more formalized territorial divisions were established. A royal
decree from fourteenth-century Burma, for instance, lays down that 'boun-
dary demarcations are always to be respected', and when the Portuguese
first arrived on the island of Ternate in eastern Indonesia they noted that
the local people 'keep boundaries and landmarks all over their territories,
domains, places, villages and towns'. 5
Ritual ceremony conducted at sacred spots within these boundaries
helped to weld the community together. A missionary travelling in Dai
Viet (Vietnam) in the latter part of the seventeenth century described the
solemn oath of loyalty taken in each village by the officials. Sworn under
the aegis of local guardian spirits, this oath promised the most terrible of
punishments for those who broke it. An even more potent means of
reiterating communal bonds was the offering of life, either animal or
human, to powerful territorial spirits. In the early nineteenth century an
4
India Seenfromthe East: Indian and Indigenous Cults of Champa, trans. I. W. Mabbett and D. P.
Chandler, Monash Papers on Southeast Asia, no. 3, Melbourne, 1973, 13.
5
Than Tun, trans., The Royal Orders of Burma, A.D. 1598-1885,1, Kyoto, Center for Southeast
Asian Studies, 1983, 4; A. Galvao, A Treatise on the Moluccas (c. 1544), ed. and trans. Hubert
Th. Jacobs, Rome: Jesuit Historical Institute, 1971, 105.

BARUS \ NEGEHIS
UNGGI
<^ A \ u v
.
"^ Melaka °
J-tO'S
Map 7.2 Island Southeast Asia, 1500-1800.

old ceremony was still practised at Ba Phnom in Cambodia whereby a

slave or criminal was sacrificed, the victim's head being impaled and
offered to the major cult figure, a fertility goddess, while other parts of the
body were offered to gods at other cult sites.
A sense of identification with a particular community was also encour-
aged by rivalries with neighbouring groups. Usually such feuding oc-
curred because of competition over economic resources, with the aim of
gaining control of a strategically placed river junction, a stretch of jungle
known to produce certain exotic timbers, or a locality famed for its gold or
rubies. In this environment intrusion by one group into an area regarded
as properly belonging to another could be a serious crime. Amongst the
aboriginal jungle dwellers, the so-called kubu of Sumatra, who specialized
in collecting valuable forest products, death was the punishment for any
individual who trespassed into the territory where he or she had no
collecting rights. Slave raiding was another source of inter-communal
conflicts. It is probable, for instance, that in early times Cham coastal
groups thrived on the slave trade, and the place of such expeditions in
Philippine society is suggested by the fact that in all the major languages of
the archipelago the word mangayaw means 'to raid enemy territory'.
Among a number of peoples raiding was also necessary to obtain victims
for ritual sacrifice. In Burma, for instance, myosade is the name specifically
given to a human victim buried alive under the foundations of a great
building in order to provide a guardian spirit. Revenge was also a compel-
ling motive for feuding, while among groups such as the Iban of Borneo or
the Abung of Sumatra the taking of heads in raids was necessary in order
to demonstrate manhood and obtain a wife.
In a discussion of the movement towards greater political entities in
Southeast Asia, the potential for friction between communities deserves
attention. While such friction could foster the localization of loyalties, it
could equally serve as a stimulus for greater co-operation among groups as
they sought to withstand attack by a predatory neighbour or themselves
prey upon a weaker one. The unity established during these periods might
subsequently fall apart, but memories of amicable relations could well be
revived. Alliances, even if short-lived, could often allay old rivalries, and
legends frequently recall the erection of a boundary stone to symbolize an
agreement between two previously hostile communities. Gradually, too,
traditions could develop which facilitated the resolution of future
grievances. Certain sites such as the graves of ancestors might be designated
as places where disputes could be settled by negotiation and discussion,
with the decision sealed by an impressive oath. Among numerous archi-
pelago groups it became customary to divert violence into mock battles.
Ritual cockfighting, which sanctioned the death of a victim and the letting
of blood, could thus serve as a symbolic means of expressing and defusing
hostility between opposing factions.
The binding medium in the creation of bonds between communities was
always kinship, usually formalized by a ceremony whereby two leaders
accepted each other as brothers. The links which this new-found fraternity
could bring about are well illustrated by a Shan chronicle's description of
an alliance between two brothers, rulers of the Khun (Kengtung) and Lu

408 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
peoples: 'When heat [mortal danger] comes from the Laos, let the Khun
state be the fence, let the Lu state be the roots and yams; when cold
[danger] comes from the Chinese, let the Lu state be the fence, let
Kengtung state be the roots and yams'. The ancient custom by which two
men could become brothers by together drinking each other's blood (called
thwethauk in Burma) was legitimized in Theravada Buddhist society by
the dhammathat law books, and it was the thwethauk relationship which
frequently bound a Burman overlord to his powerful vassals. The ability
of such rituals to transform the most distant stranger into a kinsman
is suggested in an early Spanish account of the Philippines when 'the
Indian sucked the blood of the Spaniard and vice versa' and they thus
became brothers. 6
The cultural and geographic environment of Southeast Asia had a
fundamental influence on the manner in which the polities of the region
evolved. Confederations of communities which saw themselves as equiva-
lent were found in many parts of Southeast Asia when the Europeans
reached the region at the beginning of the sixteenth century. Relations
between leaders and followers mirrored the obligations of kinfolk, and
leadership itself was based on the belief that certain individuals were
imbued with special qualities and had a relationship with the gods and
spirits which enabled them to perform feats beyond the capabilities of
ordinary mortals. In areas more exposed to outside influences, most
commonly from India or China, this indigenous pattern had been overlaid
by one which laid greater stress on hierarchy and which more clearly
identified a dominant centre and its subordinate satellites. Yet the analogy
of the family was still constantly invoked to explain and justify the
resulting overlord-vassal relationships. Like a parent, the overlord should
give protection, assistance and occasionally a stern rebuke; in return, the
vassal/child should return loyalty, respect and service. The ideal of personal
and continuing reciprocity which grew out of concepts of kinship lay at
the heart of the Southeast Asian polity, and it could well be argued
that whatever 'structure' can be discerned in most early kingdoms was
ultimately based on the bonds of family. It was the exchange of women
which made these bonds tangible, for the children that resulted from
subsequent unions became a living symbol of irrevocable kinship. In the
early sixteenth century in Ternate, for instance, the king was surrounded
by 'four hundred women' and high ranking chiefs supplied him with
sisters, aunts, cousins, nieces, and daughters and 'some are designated for
this while they are still in their mothers' wombs'. 7
A type of authority which resolved potential conflicts through reliance
on personal loyalty to a high-ranking elder, chief, ruler or overlord could,
at its best, function well. The possibility of fragmentation, however, was
always present. The parent-child relationship imposed a clear hierarchy
which might in some cases be unacceptable, and ties of kinship could well
involve conflicting loyalties. Even the most solemn oath of allegiance could
6
Pedro Chirino, The Philippines in 1600, trans. Ramon Echevarria, Manila, 1969, 235; Mangrai,
The Padaeng Chronicle, 234.
7
A. Cortasao, ed. and trans., The Suma Oriental of Tome Pires, London, 1944, I. 215; Galvao,
A Treatise, 89.

not easily be inherited or transferred. The typical Southeast Asian 'kingdom'

was a coalescence of localized power centres, ideally bound together not
by force but through a complex interweaving of links engendered by blood
connections and obligation. Leadership, conceived in personal and ritual
terms, required constant reaffirmation. On the death of each ruler, there-
fore, his successor's authority had to be reconstituted with a renewal of
marriage bonds and a vow of loyalty. This was especially true if he had
more than one wife. While the women surrounding a leader were an
important political statement, they could also yield an abundance of
potential heirs, whose claims they could work to support. As states
became larger, the liminal period between the death of one king and the
installation of the next could often prove to be a time of crisis.
The possibility of retreat from centralized control was the greater
because local loyalties remained a feature of all Southeast Asian states,
and normally considerable autonomy was retained by regional centres.
A prime example is the kingdom of Ayutthaya, which at the end of the
fifteenth century dominated the central Menam basin. The territory under
Ayutthaya's control, however, was divided into a number of graduated
muang or settlements, each under its own governor. The latter might
acknowledge the overlordship of Ayutthaya and drink the sanctified water
of allegiance to show their loyalty, but as royal relatives and muang lords
their status could be almost equivalent to that of the ruler. The governor of
Kamphaengpet, remarked Tome Pires, was 'like a king' inside his own
territory.8 Independence naturally increased with distance from the cen-
tre, and although a law of 1468-9 claims that twenty kings paid Ayutthaya
homage, its hold sat lightly on distant Malay Muslim tributaries such as
Pahang, Kelantan, Terengganu, and Pattani. These areas essentially acted
as autonomous states and as long as appropriate gifts were sent regularly
to Ayutthaya there was little interference in their affairs. Similarly loose
ties between centre and periphery were found in the kingdoms of the
island world, and the sense of independence which this localization of
authority encouraged is clearly expressed by the great Malay history, the
Sejarah Melayu. In the words of a Melaka noble: 'As for us who administer
territory, what concern is that of yours? For territory is territory even if it is
only the size of a coconut shell. What we think should be done we do, for
the ruler is not concerned with the difficulties we adminstrators encounter,
he only takes account of the good results we achieve.' 9
SOUTHEAST ASIA DURING THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

The sixteenth century saw developments which were to have far-reaching
effects on the political evolution of Southeast Asia. One prominent feature
of the period is the continuing expansion of international commerce and
the consequent rise of new exchange centres. On the mainland, settle-
ments such as Pegu on the Burmese littoral were prime beneficiaries of the
s Suma Oriental, I. 109.
9
C. C. Brown, ed. and trans., 'Sejarah Melayu or Malay Annals', JMBRAS, 25, 2 and 3
(1952) 66.

410 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
increased traffic, and a desire for greater participation in seaborne trade

may have prompted the shift of the Khmer capital south to Lovek (near
modern Phnom Penh) about 1504. It was in the island world, however,
where the proliferation of trading centres was most apparent, fuelled by a
growing world demand for the region's products. The western archipelago
had long been part of a wider commercial world, but now the expanding
market for fine spices encouraged Javanese, Malay and Chinese traders to
deal directly with sources of supply in the eastern islands. As a result, this
previously little-frequented area became integrated into a commercial
network which stretched to China, India and into Europe itself.
The rise of new ports was further stimulated by the arrival of Europeans
in search of spices and by the Portuguese defeat of Melaka in 1511 which
saw the flight of Muslim trade to other centres. It was the patronage of
local and foreign Muslims, coupled with the rise of pepper-growing, that
led to the emergence of Banten in west Java and of Aceh on the northern
tip of Sumatra. Other examples of flourishing settlements which had once
been of minor importance come readily to mind. Pattani, on the east coast
of the Malay peninsula, was a strategic meeting point for Malay and
Chinese vessels; across the sea in Borneo the newly Islamized port of
Brunei grew to provide an entrepot for the southern Philippines and the
islands of eastern Indonesia.
Some centres in the western archipelago rose to prominence because
Melaka's fall also meant the fragmentation of Southeast Asia's most
prestigious maritime state. The refugee Melaka dynasty, located in the
Riau-Lingga archipelago or in peninsular Johor, now found it more diffi-
cult to maintain its hold over its vassals on the peninsula and the east coast
of Sumatra. Though a nineteenth-century Malay account recalls that 'in
this period all Malay kings ranked below Johor', the descendants of
the Melaka dynasty never completely regained their former status and the
sixteenth century saw the breakaway of former dependencies such as
Perak on the west coast of the Malay peninsula.
The loosening of ties between overlord and vassal was equally apparent
on Java's north coast, where a number of harbours were well placed to
benefit from participation in the spice trade and the diversion of Muslims
from Melaka. By the early sixteenth century these towns were identifiably
Islamic, and their links with the interior Hindu-Buddhist kingdom of
Majapahit, their nominal suzerain, were weak. Several coastal lords, like
Patih Yunus of Demak, had Chinese blood and had gained their position
because of personal ability rather than inherited rights. The lord of Japara
was even said to be the son of a slave from Borneo. It was probably around
1527 that a coalition of these ports, led by Demak, defeated Majapahit and
established their own independence.
In the political development of Southeast Asia the widening participa-
tion in international trade had significant repercussions. For established
centres such as Ayutthaya, it brought a confirmation of their dominant
position. Already favoured by its geographical site, Ayutthaya had been
able to take advantage of growing maritime commerce as a result of admin-
istrative reorganization under King Trailok (r. 1448-88). A new ministry,
the Mahatthai, was established to supervise civil matters and to oversee

foreign affairs and trade. In the early sixteenth century some Portuguese
ranked Ayutthaya with the most powerful continental empires in Asia,
and its prosperity was such that later Thai chroniclers regarded this period
as a golden age.
Other ports with more recent origins similarly found that the wealth
which came from commerce enhanced their status, raising them well
above areas with less access to major maritime routes. On the island of
Samar in the eastern Philippines, for instance, cloth could be obtained only
through intermittent trading contact with outsiders. When Magellan's
ships arrived in 1521 only the chiefs wore cotton, while the clothes of the
ordinary people were made of bark cloth. In Brunei, however, Magellan's
men found a court where even the servants wore gold and silk. The
ostentatious lifestyle there was obviously a major reinforcement to claims
by the Brunei ruler to stand as the region's overlord.
On another level the rise of small but thriving exchange centres gave a
new impulse towards the development of larger groupings, especially in
the Philippines and eastern Indonesia. In these areas there had previously
been little need or incentive to move towards the formation of 'kingdoms',
but a more commercialized environment made increasingly obvious the
value of some form of economic and political co-operation in order to
strengthen links with wider trading networks. Perhaps the best illustration
of this process is Makassar in southwest Sulawesi: during the sixteenth
century it grew from a legendary association of the symbolic 'nine' small
communities into the focus of regional commerce. A similar process can be
traced in a number of other places, like Manila, where by 1570 several
barangay or villages had grouped together under the authority of two
Muslim datu (village leaders), who were themselves linked through kin-
ship ties with the court of Brunei.
To a considerable extent, therefore, the economic climate of the early
sixteenth century nurtured the movement towards political consolidation,
a movement apparent not only among coastal ports, but among prominent
interior centres as well. In the Tai-speaking world Ayutthaya may have
dominated the Menam basin but to the north was Lan Na with its
important tnuang of Chiengmai and Chiengrai, while eastwards lay Lan
Sang which included much of modern day Laos and was focused on two
muang at Luang Prabang and Vientiane. But throughout Southeast Asia an
equally important factor in the centralizing process was the reputation for
religious patronage which normally accompanied the rise of a commercial
centre. It was in these wealthy and populous places that religious scholars
gathered, and where the symbols of spiritual prestige—impressive build-
ings, saintly graves, sacred relics—were most likely to be found. The
leadership of Demak on Java's north coast, for example, was based not
only on its trading prosperity but on its fame as a centre for Islamic studies
and protector of the venerated mosque associated with the first Muslim
teachers on Java. The great Buddha statue which was erected at Luang
Prabang in 1512 was a source of pride for local Lao, but it also elevated the
muang's status in the wider Buddhist world.
To a considerable extent the growth of trade and a common religious
heritage promoted links between different centres, providing a basis for

412 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
closer relationships. It has been argued, indeed, that until the end of the
sixteenth century Lovek and Ayutthaya saw themselves not as separate
polities but as participants in a shared hybrid culture. 10 In Tai-speaking
areas a similarity of dialects encouraged monks to travel between muang to
preach at leading monasteries, bringing learned scholars from quite distant
places together. In 1523 Chiengmai was said to have sent sixty copies of
the Tipitaka (the Buddhist canon) and a vulnerable teacher to Lan Sang,
while the king of Lan Sang was himself educated by two monks, one of
whom came from Nan in eastern Lan Na and the other from Chiengmai.
These links were reinforced by the exchange of women between ruling
families. In 1546, for example, the king of Lan Sang succeeded in Chieng-
mai because there was no male heir, but he took the two daughters of the
previous ruler as his wives.
In the archipelago, too, the widespread use of Malay and an acceptance
of the Islamic faith fostered continuing interaction between many coastal
trading centres. The travels of ancestors, heroes, kings and religious
teachers between courts which shared basic cultural elements is a recur-
ring theme in local legends. According to Javanese tradition, for instance,
the holy man most closely associated with Surabaya came from Champa,
while in about 1524 the ruler of Demak received his title of sultan at the
hands of a saintly teacher from Sumatra. European sources support the
impression that people of ambition and knowledge moved easily between
these cosmopolitan ports. The lord of Gresik, said Tome Pires, was a
merchant who was related to the former Melaka king and had himself been
born and raised in Melaka. With this kind of exchange it was possible for
some Malays to see themselves as part of a culture which extended beyond
parochial loyalties. As a noble in the Sejarah Melayu remarks, 'Is the Sultan
of Pahang or the Sultan of Perak different from [the Sultan of Melaka]? All
of them are our masters when all is well.' 11
Yet despite the similarities which helped to draw many Southeast Asian
communities into a mutually beneficial association, competition to attract
trade and control resources also fed continuing rivalry between them. The
Melaka epic, the Hikayat Hang Tuah, even describes Inderapura on the east
coast of Sumatra as not truly 'Malay', while Brunei is seen as an 'alien
country'. It was often through the emotive language of religion that this
rivalry was most clearly articulated. Among Buddhist kings frequent
reference was made to the concept of the Universal Monarch, the cakka-
vatti, who has obtained his position because of the great merit he has built
up in previous lives and the charismatic glory (port) he has attained in this
one. His rule is characterized by the readiness with which other states
acknowledge him as king and by his possession of sacred objects such as
white elephants, magical horses and women of supernatural power from
whom emanate rays of glowing light. A common Buddhist iconography
accepted throughout most of the mainland meant 'precious objects' were
not now simply of local significance but had a wider value as sources of
intense spiritual power. According to a Portuguese observer, the king
10
David Chandler, A History of Cambodia, Boulder, 1983, 80.
11
Brown, 'Sejarah Melayu', 204.

of Ayutthaya would undergo the 'most severe trials' to acquire as many

elephants as possible, and Thai and Burmese chronicles are replete with
stories of raids which not only depopulate an entire region but carry off
holy images, sacred books and teachers. In an environment where several
Buddhist kings aspired to become cakkavatti, refusal to surrender a white
elephant or a set of the Tipitaka was interpreted as a direct challenge.
In the area covered by contemporary Burma (Myanmar) rivalry between
developing religious and political centres was complicated by a heritage of
ethnic fragmentation. The revival of Mon strength in the fifteenth century
had brought a renewed patronage of Buddhism, enhancing the status of
the Mon capital at Pegu. Meanwhile, the locus of Burman prestige, Ava,
steadily declined. Previously the dominant centre of the Irrawaddy basin,
renowned for its sponsorship of Buddhist scholars and its possession of
holy scriptures and white elephants, it was now the target of continuing
raids by various Shan tribal groups. The latter had developed more
cohesive and hierarchical societies than had most hill peoples, in part
because of their wet-rice agriculture, and a number of areas were well
known as centres of Buddhist study. In Kengtung, for example, some
monasteries are said to date from the mid-fourteenth century. Though
called simply saw-bwa by Burman rulers, the chiefs of Kengtung were
entitled by their own people 'lords of the earth' and were regarded by
them as kings. In the process of expansion it was perhaps inevitable that
such places should look with envy at the more favourable location of
lowland areas, and the early sixteenth century was distinguished in
Burmese history by the downward Shan thrust. In a desperate move to
hold back Shan raids, the ruler of Ava yielded to them progressively more
territorial control, but in vain. By 1527 Ava was in Shan hands. The king
was killed and a Shan prince placed on the throne, an event which
precipitated the flight of Burman refugees southwards to the relative safety
of Toungoo on the Sittang River.
The ethnic fragmentation which characterized Burma is, of course, far
more pronounced in the archipelago, and to this was added the economic
competition which often undercut the slow trend towards larger political
unities. This was especially true when centres were in proximity, pro-
duced similar products and drew from the same trading network. The
relations between the numerous ports along Java's north coast provide a
classic example. For a brief period after Majapahit's defeat, Demak was
able to establish its suzerainty over rival harbours and even to expand it
across the seas to Palembang in Sumatra and Banjarmasin in Borneo.
However, the supremacy of Demak rulers was never completely secured,
and by the 1550s their position was already under challenge from neigh-
bouring lords. During the late sixteenth century the remarkable success of
the newly emergent Mataram in central Java may have been facilitated
because of the inability of the coastal rulers to overcome their rivalry and
mount any co-ordinated action.
In island Southeast Asia during the sixteenth century the expression of
competition in religious terms was accentuated by the spread of Christianity
and the importation of hostilities between Muslims and Christians. In
eastern Indonesia, where Portuguese missionaries were most active, some

414 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
kings readily agreed to baptism in the belief that this would ensure them
spiritual power and European assistance against their traditional (Muslim)
enemies. Throughout the archipelago the Portuguese goal of winning
souls as well as gold meant many Muslims perceived them as a danger to
their religion as well as a commercial challenge. At intervals, therefore,
attempts were made by Islamic states to invoke jihad or holy war and to
forge a coalition to drive out the infidels. Portuguese Melaka was a prime
target and between 1513 and 1529 alliances involving Johor, Aceh, most of
Melaka's former vassals, and even Jepara on Java's north coast unsuccess-
fully attacked the town twelve times. During the 1560s the anti-Christian
mood received some encouragement from Turkey which was involved in
its own 'holy war' against Christendom.
Despite the recurring calls for a religious crusade, however, relations
between the Christian Portuguese and local Muslim kings were always
governed by pragmatism. On the one side, Europeans needed to buy and
sell, while for their part native rulers often saw a European connection as
an important ingredient in commercial success. During a campaign against
unbelievers in the 1580s, for instance, the devout Muslim ruler of Banten
in west Java forbade trade by the Portuguese, but it was not long before
they were permitted to return. The call to holy war against the Europeans
was thus only rarely effective. Far more significant were the entrenched
rivalries between centres which had existed long before the European
arrival or which had developed as a result of the period's heightened
economic activity. Now such rivalries could frequently be justified by
calling the enemy's religious beliefs into question. Aceh's hostility was
directed as much against the commercial challenge of Johor as against the
Portuguese, and a seventeenth-century Acehnese poem depicts the Johor
prince as an infidel, a sun worshipper, a follower of the prophet Moses.12
This is not to imply, of course, that European influence can be over-
looked, but it is important to emphasize that in the pre-modern period
the experiences of the mainland and the islands diverged quite markedly.
In the first place, European interest in the mainland was limited. It was
not seen as a source of spices, and it was the aim of dominating this
trade which had brought the Portuguese and Spanish to the region.
Second, although Europeans actively frequented ports such as Pegu and
Ayutthaya, they never controlled a mainland centre that could be com-
pared with Melaka, and thus never exerted the same influence on estab-
lished trading patterns. Third, the population and economic resources of
the states on the mainland far outweighed those of the Europeans in the
region. Occasionally an ambitious Portuguese or Spaniard might propose
seizing power in one or another kingdom, but the authorities never
considered the dubious gains worth the risks such an enterprise would
involve. One scholar has put the case quite forcibly: 'Siam and its continen-
tal neighbours remained entirely outside the Portuguese imperial design
and charted their own destinies during the sixteenth century.'13
12
G. W. J. Drewes, ed. and trans., Hikayat Potjut Muhatnat: an Achehnese Epic, The Hague,
1979, 9.
13
Donald F. Lach, Asia in the Making of Europe, Chicago and London, 1965, I. book 2, 571.

The implications of this statement are well illustrated in an examination

of developments in Vietnam. Unlike any other Southeast Asian people,
the Vietnamese had experienced centuries of Chinese domination which,
while infusing their lives with aspects of China's culture, had also enabled
them to conceive of themselves as clearly non-Chinese. A close examina-
tion of the laws promulgated under the fifteenth-century Le kings has in
fact pointed to a greater sense of a nation-state than is apparent in Chinese
legal codes of the same period. 14 This sense of a distinct identity may
have been encouraged by Vietnam's move south into the Cham areas after
1471, for Chams were commonly regarded by the Vietnamese as morally
and culturally inferior, with whom intermarriage was undesirable. Yet the
fragile underpinnings of central control in Southeast Asian kingdoms
meant that fragmentation was always possible, even in a relatively unified
state such as Vietnam. The Chams bitterly resented their subservience,
and in 1504-5 there was a major Cham uprising. At the same time less able
Le rulers found it impossible to contain the challenge of ambitious individ-
uals. Between 1505 and 1527 eight kings were installed, six of whom were
assassinated by rival aspirants to the throne. In 1527 the head of one of the
most powerful regional families, the Mac, succeeded in deposing the Le
ruler and installing himself instead, but he was confronted with the
continuing opposition of other families who pressed for a restoration of
the Le. One of these, the Nguyen clan, gained a foothold in the south
central area while the Mac remained in control of the delta region. When
both sides appealed to the Chinese as mediators, Beijing ruled that the
Mac should govern the north and the Le with their protectors the south.
By the middle of the sixteenth century, therefore, hints of a future division
in Vietnam were already apparent.
Europeans were not directly involved in these hostilities, although
Nguyen Kim's son later successfully used Portuguese cannon against his
enemies. The exploitation of Western weaponry was more pronounced in
the Menam basin, where the movement towards the creation of a single
territorial entity under Ayutthaya's domination was already well in train.
Indeed, some scholars have already discerned the genesis of the wider
cultural-political unity which lies at the heart of the modern Thai state.
Three hundred years earlier the terms 'Syam' and 'Tai' may have referred
only to the people of Sukothai, 15 but now when outsiders spoke of 'Syam'
they clearly meant Ayutthaya and the territory under its control. Local
sources, which differentiate between the 'Tai' of Ayutthaya, the 'Tai Yuan'
of Lan Na and the Lao of Lan Sang, also point to an emerging 'Siamese'
identity, and sixteenth-century Portuguese descriptions make a clear dis-
tinction between Lao traders and the Siamese. The European presence in
Ayutthaya simply fed into this continuing process of state development,
mainly due to the military technology they introduced at a time when
Ayutthayan kings were attempting to assert their superiority over often
14
See Nguyen Ngoc Huy and Ta van Tai, The Le Code, Law in Traditional Vietnam—
A Comparative Sino-Vietnamese Legal Study with Historical-juridical Analysis and Annotations,
Athens, Ohio, 1987.
15
L. P. Briggs, 'The appearance and historical usage of the terms Tai, Thai, Siamese and Lao',
Journal of the American Oriental Society, 69 (1949) 62; Wyatt, Thailand, 89.

416 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
reluctant vassals. In a climate where military organization was receiving

closer attention, European weapons were attractive because they could be
effectively combined with traditional fighting methods to give the possessor a
distinct advantage, even if it was simply to inspire terror through the noise
of explosives. Thus a contract made with Ramathibodi in 1518 allowed the
Portuguese to trade in Ayutthaya, Ligor, Tenasserim and Pattani in return
for guns and war munitions, and a number of Portuguese mercenaries
were attached to the Ayutthayan army.
However, it was in Burma where European military technology apparently
had its greatest appeal, and may have made a measurable contribution to
the resurgence of Burman strength. The founders of a new dynasty
originating from Toungoo, Tabinshwehti (r. 1531-50) and his successor
Bayinnaung (r. 1551-81), aimed from the outset to recreate a centralized
state in the Irrawaddy basin, and the advent of the Europeans was thus
timely. Experts in gunnery were recruited into royal service, and during
successful attacks on the Mon capital of Pegu in the late 1530s and on
Martaban in the 1540s several hundred Portuguese mercenaries were
reportedly deployed. While it would be wrong to overestimate the effects
of European firearms, local chronicles speak with awe of the 'great guns'
by which Tabinshwehti could 'smash the [Shan] saw-bwas' warboats to
splinters' since they 'had no cannon or large mortars'. 16 By the late 1550s
most Shan states had accepted Bayinnaung's overlordship and in 1558 he
even defeated Chiengmai, which had successfully resisted the armies of
Ayutthaya eleven years earlier. So impressive were his victories that one
eminent Thai prince, the viceroy of the northern provinces, was even
willing to attach himself to this seemingly invincible conqueror. Besieged
by Bayinnaung's army, Ayutthaya fell in August 1569 and by 1574 Vien-
tiane in Lan Sang was also in Burman hands. For the first time in history
Burman rulers had been able to subdue the 'great arc of Tai-speaking
peoples', and from Chiengmai to Ayutthaya splendid new pagodas built at
Bayinnaung's direction proclaimed the power of the king whom the Mons
referred to in awe as the 'Victor of the Ten Directions'.
The success of Bayinnaung, however, did not depend solely on military
strength. He acted as a model Buddhist king, distributing copies of
the Tipitaka, feeding and ordaining monks, and building and repairing
monasteries and pagodas. Continued efforts were made to encourage
commerce as laws were collated, judicial decisions collected and weights
and measures became more standardized. Officials were appointed to
supervise merchant shipping and Bayinnaung himself sent out ships to
undertake commercial voyages. He also directed his attention to resolving
the longstanding Burman-Mon rivalry by bringing Mon princesses into
the palace and by taking Mon chiefs as his brothers. Finally, Bayinnaung
saw himself as part of a wide diplomatic world, exchanging missions with
Bengal, Sri Lanka, Portuguese Goa and China. All these actions were in
the tradition of great Burmese kings. What made Bayinnaung's rule
16
Victor Lieberman, 'Europeans, trade and the unification of Burma, c. 1540-1620', Oriens
Extremus, 27, 2 (1980) 213.
17
Victor Lieberman, Burmese Administrative Cycles. Anarchy and Conquest, c. 1580-1760, Prince-
ton, 1984, 32-3.

exceptional was the extension of his overlordship hundreds of kilometres

from his capital at Pegu into areas like Lan Sang which had never before
known Burman control. For the Portuguese in mid-century it was no
longer Ayutthaya but Pegu which was 'the most powerfullest monarchy in
Asia, except that of China'18 and it was not lightly that Bayinnaung termed
himself the King of Kings.
European involvement in mainland Southeast Asia did not affect the
overall direction of political developments during the sixteenth century,
although in some cases it may have hastened the movement towards a
greater centralization of authority. In island Southeast Asia, however, the
impact of the European presence was far greater. In part this was because
most 'states' Europeans encountered were smaller than were those on the
mainland, and therefore more easily dominated. Even in the larger king-
doms European influence was extensive because of their attempts to gain
trading advantages through alliances with local rulers, whom they mistak-
enly believed had powers similar to kings in Europe. But the notion that a
'state' was a permanent structure controlled by a 'government' to which
obedience was automatically due was not shared by many of the societies
with which the Portuguese came in contact. When Kampar and Aru, two
of Melaka's foremost vassals, asked for friendship with the Portuguese
shortly after the conquest of 1511, they were expressing a widely held view
of the overlord-vassal relationship. It was essentially a temporary one, and
the client state was fully entitled to transfer allegiance should a more
desirable patron emerge. In the words of a Bugis text from Sulawesi, 'We
are like birds sitting on a tree. When the tree falls we leave it and go in
search of a large tree where we can settle.'19
The European conception of a state was also inappropriate in much of
the archipelago where a type of political entity had evolved which enabled
several kingdoms to join together and yet maintain a fundamentally equal
status. A prime example of this kind of entity was among the islands
of northern Maluku (the Moluccas). Here the myth of an original family of
rulers was constantly reshaped in accordance with changing political
realities so that the cultural and spiritual unity of the area retained a
consistent relevance to the present. In 1522, however, the Portuguese
established a fort on the island of Ternate, and in a continuing search for
compliant allies they became deeply involved in local affairs, frequently
supporting their own candidates in succession disputes or when thrones
fell vacant. At the same time they encouraged their royal clients to extend
beyond the traditional bounds of the Maluku world and to establish
control over places with which Maluku had no historical or cultural bonds.
The resulting polities, though far more extensive than their predecessors,
were inherently fragile because they had been created in a way which was
quite alien to the processes by which 'states' had hitherto developed in this
part of Southeast Asia. While the unity of the Maluku islands themselves
remained intact, the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries witnessed
is Ibid.
19
Leonard Y. Andaya, The Heritage ofArung Palakka. A History of Southwest Sulawesi (Celebes) in
the Seventeenth Century, The Hague, 1981, 113-14.

418 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
increasing reliance on force in order to maintain what were in essence

artificial links between the centre and the periphery.
In a sense these developments reflected a growing impatience with the
protracted process by which loyalty to an overlord had been built up in
the past. Now the ambition to control labour and economic resources
inflated the goals of individual chiefs who, with access to greater wealth
and military resources, could assert their superiority in a matter of years.
In 1512 the ruler of Aceh was simply 'a knightly man among his neigh-
bours', but by the middle of the century the control of his descendants
stretched down both coasts of Sumatra, and campaigns in the name of
Islam had already been launched against the Bataks of the interior. It
appears that the assistance of Turkish mercenaries may have been instru-
mental in Aceh's success, but contemporary Portuguese writers also felt
that they had contributed to the growing dominance of some centres over
others. According to the Portuguese chronicler Joao de Barros, there were
once twenty-nine kingdoms along the coasts of Sumatra, 'but since we
became involved with these oriental states, favouring some and suppress-
ing others according to the way they received us . . . many have been
absorbed to the territory of their most powerful neighbours'. 20 Perhaps the
most formidable display of the determination to create a 'state' even in
the face of resistance was manifested following the Spanish arrival in the
island of Cebu in 1565. Their vision of a united Christian colony owing
allegiance to one centre had no precedent in the history of the Philippine
archipelago, but it was ultimately to furnish the framework for the modern
Philippine state.
While it is already possible to see the implications of the European
presence, political development in the island world also had an impulse of
its own. In Java, for instance, the Portuguese exerted no influence on the
renewed move towards centralization which occurred in the latter part of
the sixteenth century. In many ways such a move was predictable, for Java
was geographically and culturally more unified than the rest of the
archipelago, and even in the fourteenth century the poet Prapanca had
extolled the notion that 'the whole expanse of Java-land' should be under
the rule of one king. During the 1580s a vague figure known as Senapati
moved to establish himself in the interior and expand his control towards
the coast. According to later traditions, Senapati had fallen asleep on the
Lipura stone, believed to mark Java's centre, where he had received a
vision of the dynasty he would found. On a later journey to the bottom of
the sea the Princess of the Southern Ocean had even promised him the
assistance of all the Javanese spirits. Yet any effort to establish an overlord
in Java had to contend with the localization of power and the personal
nature of leadership which infused all of Southeast Asian society. Whether
the dominance of one centre was achieved by persuasion or force, the kind
of state which resulted was fraught with tensions.
20
Mark Dion, 'Sumatra through Portuguese eyes; excerpts from Joao de Barros', Decadas da
Asia', Indonesia, 9 (April 1970) 144.

THE CYCLE OF FRAGMENTATION AND UNITY
One of the major reasons for the tendency to fragmentation in all South-
east Asian kingdoms was the difficulty of transferring political power from
one generation to another. The potential for conflict was particularly great
in larger states where kings were likely to have numerous children by
several women and where the rewards for success were high. In theory,
succession should be settled harmoniously within the royal clan by an
agreed selection. However, the increasing inability to reach a mutually
acceptable decision as states became more politically complex necessitated
the introduction of laws of succession. According to sixteenth-century
reports from Ayutthaya, for example, there had been an attempt two
hundred years earlier to regulate succession by providing that on the death
of a king his brother should inherit the throne, rather than his son. A
practice had also been introduced of appointing a secondary king, who
would be regarded as heir. Nonetheless, smooth succession in the Thai as
well as the Burmese state was a rarity. Burma had to be forcibly reunited in
1551 after the death of Tabinshwehti, and Bayinnaung was in fact no blood
relation to his predecessor, but the husband of Tabinshwehti's sister.
Though Islamic states more clearly identified the elder son as the
legitimate heir, disputes between a royal prince and his uncles, younger
brothers of the dead ruler, remained common. Complications could arise
because of claims and relationships derived from local cultures which were
often unrecognized by imported Indian or Muslim law codes. In Bugis-
Makassar society the husband of a woman who nursed a royal prince
became his patarana, and the ties between the two could frequently be
stronger than between the child and his true father. Throughout the
region, too, a special bond was established between those who as babies
had been fed from the same mother. To use the Malay term, they became
'saudara susu' or milk brothers. Tabinshwehti's mother had been Bayin-
naung's wet nurse, and in 1688 it was a 'milk brother' of the Ayutthayan
king who acted as regent and then succeeded to the throne. Added to
these factors was the ever-present possibility of the emergence of the
'extraordinary leader' whose claim to rule could be justified not by royal
blood but by his exceptional powers and possession of special objects. A
Balinese babad, for instance, tells the story of the ancestor of a ruling clan in
northern Bali who becomes ruler because he holds a powerful magic kris
which not only becomes his adviser and confidant, but enables him to
become a cakkavatti, a Universal Monarch.
The very personalized nature of royal authority meant that the death of a
king or a period of weak rule was often a time of crisis as princely factions
and their supporters jockeyed for power. In this process royal women are
commonly depicted as playing a crucial role. The Sejarah Melayu describes
how the dowager queen attempted to poison the Melaka ruler in order to
obtain the throne for her grandson, the ruler of Pahang; Thai chronicles
attribute the death of Phra Yot Chau (r. 1546?-48?) to the sorcery of his
father's concubine who seized the throne for her lover. Women who had

420 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
been the initial fulcrum of an alliance between lord and vassal are fre-
quently seen as contributing to its breakdown. Indigenous accounts often
attribute an attack on a neighbouring community not to hopes of acquiring
greater prestige or economic advantage, but to the resentment suffered by
a society over the treatment of one of its high-ranking women. According
to tradition, the bayin (independent sovereign) of Ava in the late sixteenth
century revolted against his brother/overlord in Pegu because his daugh-
ter, wife of the crown prince, was struck by her husband/cousin, and blood
was drawn. She sent the bloodstained handkerchief to her father, who
promptly rebelled. With minor variations the same story is found in Thai
accounts. Even the offering of a woman can be subsequently interpreted as
a factor in the collapse of a previously flourishing state. Javanese legend
says that Senapati presented a beautiful concubine to his enemy the king
of Madiun, who then neglected the defence of his realm, thus allowing
himself to be overcome by Senapati's forces. Indeed, according to an Old
Javanese text, at the end of the kaliyuga (the present age) all women 'long
to be the cause of a dreadful war'. 2
It was at times of political upheaval that the Southeast Asian state was
particularly vulnerable, because any decline in general prosperity or even
an unusual and unwelcome event was attributed to supernatural anger at
the failings of the ruler. Sickness, an eclipse, late rainfall, a volcanic
eruption, earthquake, the discovery of a deformed elephant—events
which in normal circumstances could be explained away—were now
interpreted as evidence of royal ineptitude. Even kings could share this
view. When no rains fell in Vietnam in 1467, Le Thanh Ton (r. 1460-97)
said, 'I am a person without merit . . . I am the father and mother of the
people, sick at heart. If I do not dispense wide grace and generous
forgiveness, then how can genuine blessings reach the people?' In part
Le Thanh Ton's despondency was also due to the popular belief that a king
should be able to foretell and avert disaster, and in Vietnam one of the
tasks of Confucian scholars was to interpret the meaning of occurrences
such as the appearance of a new star. It was no coincidence that during his
reception at the Vietnamese court Alexander of Rhodes 'began talking
about eclipses to pass the time' and his prediction of an eclipse three days
before it happened was greeted with wonder. In the early sixteenth
century in Ternate the king was said to be 'an excellent astrologer', and
according to legend Senapati had told the ruler of Pajang that the appoint-
ment of an astrologer was vital to the maintenance of royal power.
The task of such a person was to foretell the future and produce the
magic mantra which would prevent the occurrence of disasters like
drought or famine. The more powerful the kingdom, the more vulnerable
it was to the effects of such events, for the continuing warfare which
maintained a great state placed a heavy burden on peasant society. It was
the peasants who supplied the ranks of the armies, it was their crops and
cattle which were seized for supplies, and it was they who could be carried
21
B. Schrieke, Indonesian Sociological Studies, II, The Hague and Bandung, 1955, 72.
22
Stephen Young, 'The law of property and elite prerogatives during Vietnam's Le dynasty
1428-1788', journal of Asian History, 10 (1976) 16.

off by opposing armies to be sold as slaves in distant lands or to increase

the manpower of rival kings. In Burma the chronicles describe how the
ruler of Ava, on hearing of the Shan approach in 1527, devastated the
countryside, filling in wells and breaking down irrigation canals to make a
barrier between himself and the Shans. In Cambodia Spanish observers of
the late sixteenth century remarked that with increasing attacks from the
Thai, 'the women work the soil while their husbands make war'. 23 Rarely
are peasant voices heard in the sources, but occasionally they found a
spokesman. A poem written by a sixteenth-century Vietnamese poet, for
instance, tries to depict the distress brought about when people were
taken from their villages to swell armies, and were thus unable to maintain
their canals and dykes or to plant their crops.
How monstrous are the great rats

Which pitilessly deceive and steal
There is nothing more in the fields but dried up rice germs
Not another grain in the granaries
The peasant, bent with weariness, sighs
The peasant's wife, emaciated, never ceases to weep
Nothing is more sacred than the life of the people
But you do it terrible harm.24
Given the right leader, most societies were able to justify the argument
that an unworthy king should be deposed. An exception, perhaps, was
found in the Malay areas where peasant rebellion is comparatively rare.
The word derhaka, treason against the ruler, is found in Old Malay
inscriptions as early as the seventh century and the belief that rebellion
would result in the most terrible of punishments was deeply embedded in
Malay culture, to be reinforced by later teaching that ultimately Allah
himself would punish the wicked king. Unless led by a prince of the royal
house, Malays were generally reluctant to oppose the ruler, and it is surely
significant that the great folk hero of the Malays, Hang Tuah, is willing to
kill his friend rather than be disloyal to his king.
In Java, on the other hand, it has been said that the essential folk hero is
the rebel, and rebellion is a favourite theme in both oral and written
tradition.25 A hold on royal power was never guaranteed because the
divine effulgence which rulers were believed to possess could leave one
individual and pass to another, designating him as the rightful king.
This in effect resembles the Sino-Vietnamese concept of the 'mandate of
heaven' that in theory at least could pass from the highest in the land to
the lowest. In Vietnam rebellion could also be justified because the
Confucian classics themselves, while stressing the loyalty which should be
given to the emperor, also set high standards for 'benevolent government'.
The philosopher Mencius (372-289? BC) even condoned the killing of inept
» Chandler, History of Cambodia, 86.

24
Cited in Thomas Hodgkin, Vietnam. The Revolutionary Path, London, 1981, 73.
25
Supomo Surohudojo, 'Rebellion in the kraton world as seen by the pujangga', in J. A. C.
Mackie, ed., Indonesia: the Making of a Nation, Canberra: Australian National University,
Research School of Pacific Studies, 1980, 563-77.

422 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
kings who had lost 'the hearts and minds' of their people.26 During the
first years of the sixteenth century, when the prestige of Le kings reached
its nadir, peasant rebellion was a frequent occurrence. Between 1510 and
1516 there were at least eight uprisings, the most serious in 1516, when
a pagoda keeper declared himself to be a descendant of the Trinh and a
reincarnation of Indra (de Tich). His alleged miracles gained him thou-
sands of followers, and at one point the rebels captured the capital of
Thang-long (Hanoi) and proclaimed their leader king.
Throughout most of Southeast Asia it was this kind of local holy man
who commonly provided the focus of resistance to the ruler. In the
Theravada Buddhist countries kings could be accused of acaravipatti, or
failure of duty, but only a person regarded as possessing abnormal abilities
and sacral power would voice such criticism. The sources yield scattered
evidence of rebellions led by these figures, weikza in Burman or phu mi bun
in Thai. In 1579 a rebellion broke out among the mountain people of the
extreme south of Lan Sang, led by a holy man who claimed to be a
reincarnation of a previous ruler. He marched on Vientiane with a consid-
erable following and forced the ruler to flee. Two years later another holy
man in the countryside near Ayutthaya led a rebellion in which the
minister of civil affairs, the Mahatthai, was slain.
An added impulse to rebellion was the wideheld expectation that the life
of even the mightiest kingdom was dictated by time. Among Javanese it
was commonly believed that some kind of catastrophe, probably the fall of
a dynasty, would occur with the passing of each Javanese century. Similar
beliefs can be found in mainland states. In 1638 in both Ava and Ayutthaya
there was great rejoicing when ruling kings successfully survived the
thousand-year cycle of the Buddhist Era, but a poem written in Ayutthaya
in the late seventeenth century warns that its downfall will inevitably come.
Nonetheless, while crisis years could foster expectations of dynastic
collapse, it still required particular conditions and a leader of considerable
influence to activate actual revolt. For the most part peasants who were
dissatisfied took service under another lord, sought refuge in a monastery
or disappeared into the crowded coastal ports. Southeast Asian historians
have been unanimous in identifying the control of people as a key to the
retention of political control, a view which local sources themselves reflect.
In the words of a Malay hikayat (story), 'It is the custom of kings that they
call themselves kings if they have ministers and subjects; if there are no
subjects, who will render homage to the king?'27
The ruler's control over people could be crucial in stemming the ten-
dency towards fragmentation because it was ultimately the principal
means of determining the hierarchy between competitors for power,
whether they were royal princes or vassal kings. The language of authority
frequently reflects the value placed on manpower. Seventeenth-century
Filipinos defined the word 'Datu', as 'he who has vassals', and in the Thai
areas military officers were called by the number of people theoretically
26
Alexander Woodside, 'History, structure and revolution in Vietnam', International Political
Science Review, 10, 2 (1989) 149.
27
A Bausani, Notes on the Structure of the Classical Malay Hikayat, trans. Lode Brakel, Centre of
Southeast Asian Studies, Monash University, Working Paper no. 16, 20.

under their command, like 'Lord of a Thousand Men' (Kun Pan) and 'Lord
of a Hundred Men' (Kun Sen). While death in battle, sometimes on a large
scale, was certainly not unknown, a victorious king generally preferred to
transport prisoners back to his own territory to augment the population
under his control. As long as he could command greater human resources
than his rivals he would be able to maintain his superiority. In the words of
a Persian visitor to Ayutthaya, 'They have no intention of killing one
another or inflicting any great slaughter'. 28 But although the population of
defeated states might be carried off, the typical Southeast Asian pattern
was to leave tributary kings in power, with the requirement that they send
regular gifts and appear at court to make personal obeisance. Despite their
conquest by Vietnam, for instance, the Chams retained their own ruler and
continued to receive some recognition from Peking well into the sixteenth
century. In this type of situation there was no way of preventing a vassal
king from increasing the manpower at his command and then mounting a
challenge to his overlord.
It was a combination of relative autonomy and demographic recovery
which enabled Ayutthaya to cast off Burmese control in the latter half of
the sixteenth century. The Burmese left no occupying force in Ayutthaya
after the pillage of 1569, and appeared content simply to accept the
homage of its kings. They had, however, taken away large numbers
of prisoners and for many years Ayutthaya felt the effects of the lack of
population. Between 1570 and 1587, for example, the Khmers attacked
Ayutthaya six times, no doubt wreaking revenge for earlier Thai invasions.
But in 1585 and 1586 the heir to the Ayutthaya throne, Naresuan, was able
to rally local forces and declare his independence from Burma. He not only
strengthened the city's defences but set in motion reforms which enabled
Ayutthaya to retain a tighter hold over its subjects. Expeditions by the
Burmese were thrown back, and the defeat of a major offensive in 1593
meant Ayutthaya was once again free.
In a little more than sixty years the balance on the mainland had swung
back again in favour of Ayutthaya. Its former rivals, Lan Sang and Lan Na,
had suffered considerably at the hands of Bayinnaung and Lan Na was
never able to regain its former authority. While Lan Sang, less affected
because of its geographical isolation, managed a partial recovery, it too
was unable to repeat the challenge it had made to Ayutthaya in the first
half of the sixteenth century. Ayutthaya reasserted itself as the dominant
Thai state, signalling its new position by a successful attack on the Khmer
capital at Lovek in 1594. In desperation, the Cambodian king appealed to
the Spanish at Manila, asking for military assistance in exchange for
submission to the Spanish Crown. With the failure of this effort there was
nothing to stop continued Thai incursions and the eventual enforced
submission of Cambodia to Ayutthaya's control.
The triumph of Ayutthaya was a reflection of Burma's fragmentation.
Large-scale military expeditions proved impossible to sustain from the
capital at Pegu, and there was considerable loss of manpower as villagers
fled to escape military service. Regional towns, their populations swollen
28
John O'Kane, trans., The Ship of Sulaiman, London, 1972, 90.

424 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
by the influx of refugees, were all too ready to assert their independence.
Just as serious was the fact that the delicate relationship which Bayinnaung
had built up between different ethnic groups began to fall apart. In 1594 an
alliance between Mons and Ayutthaya threw back Pegu's forces and the
Ayutthayan king Naresuan succeeded in taking the entire southeast coast,
even threatening Pegu itself. The final blow to the dynasty came when the
bayin of Toungoo entered into negotiations with the ruler of Arakan to
mount a joint attack on Pegu. By 1600 Burma had once again broken into a
number of realms, assuming the 'general appearance of the early sixteenth
century before Tabinshwehti started his work of unification'.29
In Vietnam, too, internal divisions were becoming more apparent as the
compromise mediated by China in the mid-sixteenth century collapsed.
The Nguyen were challenged by an even more powerful clan, the Trinh, as
both tried to oust the Mac and establish themselves as defenders of the Le.
In an effort to maintain his position, the Nguyen leader in 1558 accepted
the position of governor of the southern region which bordered on the
Cham areas and was thus at the limits of Vietnamese settlement. By 1592
the Trinh had managed to push the Mac back to the mountains on the
Chinese border, but this did not lead to greater unity between the Nguyen
and Trinh. The latter remained in theory champions of the Le, but it was
they who appointed the mandarins, administered revenues and supplied
the queens who became mothers of princely heirs. In 1599 the Trinh head
assumed the title of vuong or prince, and this then became hereditary in his
family. The Nguyen simply refused to accept this assertion of supremacy.
By 1627 open warfare had broken out between the two families, and it
ended only with an uneasy truce in the 1670s.
At the end of the sixteenth century certain clear trends on the mainland
can already be seen. Notwithstanding periods of fragmentation, the basis
for future consolidation in Siam, Burma and Vietnam had been laid down,
and these states had already signalled their potential for domination over
the Lao and Khmer. In the island world, however, such trends are not
nearly so apparent. In the Straits of Melaka, Johor, Aceh and Portuguese-
controlled Melaka remained at odds; Java was divided between the
Mataram-dominated interior, Sunda, Hinduized areas like Balambangan
in the east, and the Islamicized coastal ports; Brunei was regarded as a
leader in the Borneo region; and Balinese forces were sufficiently strong to
expand into the neighbouring islands of Lombok and Sumbawa, where
they were to clash with the growing strength of Makassar. The presence of
the Europeans further complicated the picture. Manila had been confirmed
as the Spanish base for their Christianizing effort in the Philippines, and a
strong position had already been established in Luzon and the Visayas. In
the southern archipelago, however, they faced continued opposition from
powerful Muslim centres. It was at this point that new actors appeared on
the stage. The English were soon eclipsed by the newly formed Dutch East
India Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie, VOC), which in
1605 made apparent its intentions of becoming the pre-eminent European
power by capturing the island of Ambon from the Portuguese. In May 1619
29
Lieberman, Burmese Administrative Cycles, 45.

the VOC governor-general, Jan Pieterszoon Coen, forcibly seized control

of the west Javanese town of Jayakatra, renamed it Batavia and immedi-
ately set out to transform it into the hub of the Dutch trading network. The
most skilled astrologer would at this point have been hard-pressed to
predict future developments. Certain centres in the archipelago could be
identified as having more commercial power or greater cultural influence
than others, but it was still very much a poly centric world. To a consid-
erable extent the political and economic shifts of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries were to determine which of these areas would
ultimately emerge as leaders in the region.
THE CENTRES OF POWER IN THE

SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
In explaining the rise of the great Southeast Asian kingdoms of the seven-
teenth century, local chronicles are inclined to attribute the emergence of
such states to the 'luck', the prestigious descent and the personal abilities
of the ruler. A modern historian, while acknowledging the achievements
of individuals, might be more inclined to suggest that the prime factors
were geographical. During the seventeenth century the natural advan-
tages enjoyed by some areas became particularly apparent, for increasingly
the power of a kingdom came to be determined not merely by commercial
wealth but by the ability to marshal large numbers of people who could be
supported by the resources of the state itself. In the sixteenth century the
kings of Burma had considered the delta town of Pegu as the most
desirable site for a capital, but a hundred years later the centre of govern-
ment was moved back to Ava, which dominated the rice-growing basin of
Kyaukse as well as the Mu River irrigation system. In Java, too, the
sixteenth century had for a brief time seen the locus of economic power
shift to the coast, but after the establishment of Mataram no kings were
ever tempted to move away from the fertile regions of the centre. By
contrast, the vulnerability of areas dependent on imported food became
apparent when the sea lanes were cut. In 1640-1 the VOC laid siege to
Melaka and after a blockade of seven months the Portuguese finally
surrendered. By this time, however, the inhabitants were so emaciated
that mothers were even said to have exhumed their young for food. In this
context it can be noted that, despite the rise of Aceh as one of the great
Indonesian states during the seventeenth century, its reliance on rice
supplies from Minangkabau, Siam and Burma to feed its population has
been identified as a possible reason for its later decline.30
The correlation between the growing of wet-rice and the development of
dominant state structures is not coincidental. First, wet-rice can support
a far higher population than the lower-yielding hillside and rain-fed
varieties, or the sago and root crops which were a staple diet in most of
the eastern Indonesian islands. Second, because wet-rice growers are
30
Denys Lombard, he Sultanate d'Atjeh au Temps d'lskandar Muda 1607-1636, Paris, EFEO,
1967, 61.

426 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
more sedentary, they are much easier to tie to a central authority. In

seventeenth-century Burma it was possible for a royal edict to order the
collection of rice 'from over two hundred villages', and in Java a Dutch
envoy remarked that 'each family brings ten bundles of padi, every village
delivers an amount to the king's receivers'. It is not surprising that the
Pampangans in western Luzon, transformed by the Spanish from itinerant
traders and fishers to settled rice-growing peasants, became so closely
involved with the Spanish, who contrasted their loyalty with the swidden
agriculturalists of the forested hills and the roaming 'vagabonds' whose
lack of any fixed abode prevented any exaction of tribute. These were
views which many Southeast Asian kings would have shared. A Burmese
edict of 1598, for example, commands each soldier to remain at the place
'where his ancestors had lived for generations before him' and in Ayutthaya
the forests were seen as the home of 'ungoverned' people who should be
persuaded to come out and plant rice fields.31
For European governors and Southeast Asian rulers alike, large settled
populations supported by abundant amounts of food were seen as the key
to authority and power. In Ayutthaya, indeed, it was the ownership of rice
fields, albeit at times theoretical, that provided the basis for the formal
gradings in noble status (sakdi na), and in Vietnam rulers had traditionally
rewarded their followers by gifts of land. From the centre's point of view,
it was important that as much rice as possible was produced. The aim was
not only the maintenance of existing fields but their extension. A Burmese
regulation of 1643 makes it a requirement for palace guards not on duty to
cultivate the fields, while Javanese traditional law specifically laid down
that 'a person asking permission to work a wet-rice field [sawah] but not
carrying out the task so that the field lies fallow must repay the equivalent
of the rice harvest of the entire field'. It was the consequent density of
population which struck a Dutch envoy to the Mataram court in 1648. He
spoke of 'the unbelievably great rice fields which are all around Mataram
for a day's travel, and with them innumerable villages'.32
Not all states, of course, were able to fulfil the potential which a large
population accorded them. Vietnam is a case in point. Here the annual
flooding of the Red (Hong) River delta had been controlled since early
times by damming and irrigation. The demographic results of this were
apparent in a census dating from the fifteenth century which records over
three million people living in the delta. Their larger, more organized
population had enabled the Vietnamese to overrun the Cham areas, and
still in the late seventeenth century an Englishman who had long traded
in the region marvelled at the numbers of villages and the push of crowds
in the streets of the capital 'even though they are reasonably large'.
Internal feuding and the outbreak of war between the Nguyen and Trinh
31
Than Tun, Royal Orders, I. 8; Lorraine M. Gesick, 'Kingship and Political Integration in
Traditional Siam, 1767-1824', Ph.D. thesis, Cornell University, 1976, 16.
32
M. C. Hoadley and B. Hooker, An Introduction to Javanese Law: A Translation of and
Commentary on the Agama, Tucson, 1981, 174; H. J. de Graaf, De Vijf Gezantschapreizen van
Ryklofvan Goens, The Hague 1956, 52.

in 1627, however, absorbed the energies of the country for nearly four
decades, resulting not in the growth of a more settled peasant population
but in their dispersal and flight. Even so, the early seventeenth century
saw the Nguyen lords effectively taking over control of the Mekong delta
as Vietnamese pushed into Khmer-speaking areas and established their
own customs house near modern-day Ho Chi Minh City.
The size of the population any centre could command had far-reaching
political effects. It was not simply that these places were capable of amassing
the economic resources which reinforced their claims to supremacy over
their neighbours. They also commanded substantial armies which could
compel the obedience of recalcitrant vassals. The point can be made clearly
by comparing the armed forces of Johor, the most prestigious of the Malay
states but one without any agrarian base, with those of the Trinh. In 1714
the Dutch estimated that Johor could bring to battle 6500 men and 233
vessels of all types. In Vietnam, by contrast, the Nguyen army was tallied
at 22,740 men, including 6410 marines and 3280 infantry. The same pattern
is apparent in the other rice-producing states. In 1624 the ruler of Mataram
was said to have augmented his army by as many as 80,000 soldiers and in
1635 an order was proclaimed in Burma to raise the strength of the armed
forces to an unrealistic but presumably ideal figure of 885,000 men. Aceh,
which did not have a rice base, is a partial exception, but it drew heavily on
its interior peoples to provide manpower, and was able to put to sea
galleys which allegedly carried about four hundred men each. 33
In the seventeenth century these large armies were most commonly
deployed to shore up compliance with the hierarchy which the vassal-
overlord relationship entailed. In many cases the offer of protection and
the prestige of a powerful patron was no longer sufficient recompense for
the acceptance of a lower status, since many so-called 'vassals' had
considerable standing of their own. The Shan state of Kengtung, for
example, was regarded by Ava as a tributary which, though permitted a
degree of autonomy, was ultimately subservient to its overlord in the
lowlands. Nothing of this, however, emerges in Shan chronicles which
describe how Kengtung in its turn acted as protective suzerain to nearby
saw-bwas. The ruler of Kengtung 'was possessed of great glory and power
without peer, and there was no one, either within or without the state, to
rebel against his authority, nor did he go to submit to the ruler of Ava'. 34 In
order to incorporate the many centres like Kengtung into larger political
systems, the seventeenth century saw a greater reliance on force than ever
before. The kind of cultural strains which this could introduce is suggested
in a nineteenth-century chronicle which relates how Bayinnaung forbade
the 'evil' and 'heathen' practice of burying a Shan saw-bwa's slaves, horses
and elephants with him. In so doing, of course, he was condemning his
vassals to perpetual poverty in the world beyond death.
33
L e o n a r d Y. A n d a y a , The Kingdom of Johor 1641-1728, Kuala L u m p u r , 1975, 333; C h a r l e s
M a y b o n , Histoire Moderne du Pays Annam (1592-1820), Paris, 1920, 111; Schrieke, Indonesian
Sociological Studies, II. 147; T h a n T u n , Royal Orders, I. 49; L o m b a r d , he Sultanat, 8 5 - 6 .
34
M a n g r a i , The Padaeng Chronicle, 185.

428 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
A RENEWAL OF THE MOVEMENT TOWARDS

CENTRALIZED CONTROL
By the early seventeenth century, Siam and Burma were reaffirming their
position as the two strongest political and economic powers in the region.
For neither, however, was the path easy. In Ayutthaya Naresuan may
have left behind a relatively strong core but the Thais still felt threatened
by their neighbours. In 1622 the Khmers decisively routed Thai forces, and
Ayutthaya lost four or five thousand men. There were also recurring
rebellions in a number of southern tributary states, sometimes surprisingly
successful. In 1634 Pattani forces were able to defeat those of Ayutthaya,
and it has been suggested that the assertion of Thai control in the
peninsula was accomplished only by recourse to European arms and
military advisers. During the latter part of the century the Thai missions
sent to France by King Narai in 1684 and 1687-8 were apparently directly
aimed at obtaining assistance against insurrections in the south.
In Burma, too, though the process of reunification was quick to take
hold, it entailed nearly a generation of warfare. The son of Bayinnaung by
a minor wife began to attract a following of refugees, and by 1597 he was
extending the areas under his control west towards Pagan and north to
Ava. Repeated military success ensured his standing as a man of hpon
(charismatic glory) as he moved against the Shans, and by 1606 his forces
had conquered almost the entire Tai region west of the Salween River. His
son Anaukpetlun (r. 1606-28) completed the process, extending Burmese
sovereignty from Kengtung in the east to Arakan in the west, and from
Bhamo in the north to Tavoy and Chiengmai in the south. According to
stories told a hundred years later, Anaukpetlun's military prowess was
such that he could conquer his enemies simply by laughing, and at news of
his coming 'men, gods, monsters and ghosts' vanished in terror.35
From the 1660s, when wars between Ayutthaya and the Burmese were
renewed, there was a continuing rivalry between them for control of
territory and resources. Not only did the demands for tribute from
dependencies grow greater, but there was also far less tolerance of any
signs of disloyalty. The type of semi-autonomy which had characterized
vassal states two or three centuries before could now be sustained only in
the case of considerable geographical separation. The area of modern Laos,
for instance, was ultimately able to survive because it was considerably
removed from the centres of Burmese and Thai control, and was shielded
by its environment. A Genoese traveller remarked on 'the mountains and
inaccessible precipices that surround it on every side like so many ramparts
that none can force their way through and which thus serve as a protection
against the insults of their enemies'.36 Though in the seventeenth century
it was divided into three separate kingdoms, centred on Vientiane, Luang
Prabang and Champassak, the frequent quarrelling between them did not
destroy the sense of being different from their Thai neighbours to the
south. A long history of regional sponsorship of Buddhism, and the
35
L i e b e r m a n , Burmese Administrative Cycles, 56.
36
Cited in Wyatt, Thailand, 121.

possession of revered objects like the statue of the Emerald Buddha, also
served to reinforce a sense of local pride. Furthermore, it appears that to a
significant extent the powerful neighbours of the Lao, the rulers of Vietnam
and Ayutthaya, were prepared to recognize its separate identity. Boun-
daries were set up between Lan Sang and Vietnam with the provision that
those who lived on houses on piles were to be regarded as Lao subjects,
and those whose houses were on the ground were Vietnamese. In 1670
another frontier marker, sanctified by the consecration of a Buddhist
shrine, was set up to reaffirm the borders with Ayutthaya.
Geographical distance thus enabled the Lao kingdoms to survive. The
old state of Lan Na (Chiengmai), which had considered itself the equal of
both Lan Sang and Ayutthaya in the sixteenth century, was not so
fortunate. More accessible from both Ayutthaya and Ava, it became a
victim of the increased rivalry on the mainland and the demands of
overlords on their vassals. Though subservient to the Burmese and with a
governor installed by Ava, Chiengmai did not easily set aside memories of
its former independence and was always ready to break away. In 1660,
hearing (incorrectly) that Ava had fallen to the Chinese, the governor sent
an envoy to Ayutthaya to ask that he be accepted as a vassal. However,
when the Siamese took over control (seizing in the process the famed
Buddha Sihinga image) they were soon ejected by Burmese forces. By 1664
Chiengmai was again under Ava's suzerainty. But the Burmese, like the
Thais, appear to have adopted the policy that 'once a vassal, always a
vassal' and the punishment for Chiengmai's defection was harsh. Ava's
control was now considerably stricter, with the regular installation of
Burmese rather than local governors and frequent calls on local manpower
to fill the ranks of Ava's armies.
Though Ava permitted its Tai vassals in the highlands to retain the rank
of pyi or sovereign state, this was nonetheless a limited autonomy.
Between 1613 and 1739 the Burmese launched at least ten campaigns to
enforce control in the Tai uplands. But here there was a common religious
language, so that patronage of local monasteries and the appointment of
learned monks could be used to reinforce the centre's authority. The
strains were far greater in areas where cultural and religious links were
weak, like those between Ayutthaya and the mixed Malay-Thai culture of
the southern isthmus. In the fifteenth century the Malay state of Kedah,
along with its neighbours, had been able to pacify two masters by
acknowledging the distant overlordship of both Melaka and Ayutthaya. In
the changed mood of the seventeenth century, however, the Thai king
Prasat Thong (r. 1629-56) demanded that the Raja of Kedah come person-
ally to Ayutthaya and pay him homage. Although the Kedah ruler was
excused when he feigned illness, his court was presented with a small
image of Prasat Thong and told that homage should be paid to it twice
daily, something that would have been anathema to a Muslim king.
The attitude towards the vassal-overlord relationship in the previously
lightly governed Malay shadow areas was becoming stricter; a particularly
graphic example of this is the case of Songkhla (Singgora). In 1651 the
ruler, a Muslim, refused to come to Ayutthaya to swear public allegiance to
the Thai king. In one of the many fierce campaigns which followed, a Thai

430 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
fleet of 120 ships was despatched, each vessel smeared with human blood
and hung with human heads to terrify Songkhla into obedience. By 1679
its ruler had finally complied with the order to go to Ayutthaya to pay
personal homage. While he was in the Thai capital, however, King Narai
(r. 1656-88) ordered almost all Songkhla's inhabitants carried off. Its fate is
vividly depicted in a rare eighteenth-century Thai map which shows a
deserted city with tigers prowling in the environs. 37 The continuing effort
to incorporate these areas into Ayutthaya's cultural ambit is suggested by
the fact that in 1689 the viceroy of Ligor, a Malay, was replaced by a Thai.
The greater reliance on force to create new political structures was also
evident in the island world, where it had been an integral part of European
intrusion into the area. When the Spanish led by Miguel Lopez de Legazpi
landed in Cebu in 1565 to find their peaceful overtures rejected, they
opened fire on the local settlement. On the island of Luzon, Manila was
taken by force, and during an attack in 1570 as many as 500 people may
have been killed with 1500 houses burned. In the early years of Spanish
colonization natives were often compelled to submit and accept Christian-
ity, with the alternative frequently being death or enslavement. Some
Spanish observers noted with distress the degree to which force was used
to extract local compliance. 'If no tribute is given', said one commentator
in 1573, 'the houses and lodges are burnt with no attention being paid to
instructions', 38 and by the 1580s some Filipinos were saying that to be
baptized meant to become a slave. The death and impalement of leaders of
local rebellions remained a harsh reminder of the Spaniards' military
superiority.
In the Indonesian areas the Dutch used even more force to attain their
goal of commercial dominance and to provide 'an example' to native kings.
With a charter which enabled it to act virtually as a sovereign state, the
power of the VOC was made dramatically clear within a few years of its
arrival. In 1621 the town of Banda was destroyed because of local resist-
ance to the imposition of a nutmeg monopoly. Thirteen of the leaders were
executed, beheaded and quartered and 24 others imprisoned and tortured.
Of 15,000 Bandanese only about 1000 were left and Banda itself became a
colony settled by Dutch and mestizo concessionaires.
The commercial competition which was a major reason for the European
presence also encouraged local states to increase their control over people
and resources. Aceh is a foremost example of the manner in which force
could be used to compel submission. During the reign of Sultan Iskandar
Muda (1607-36) a series of campaigns was launched on neighbouring
states along the coasts of Sumatra and on the Malay peninsula. The
effective end of Acehnese expansion only came in 1641 when its arch-
enemy, Johor, allied with the Dutch in their successful siege of Portuguese
Melaka. For nearly thirty years, however, the mere whisper of a possible
Acehnese attack had been sufficient to panic whole communities.
What made Aceh particularly feared was recourse to force on a scale
never before experienced in the Malay world. During Iskandar's attack on
37
I am indebted to Dr Lorraine Gesick for this reference.
38
Rosario M. Cortes, Pangasitian 1572-1800, Quezon City, 1974, 56.

the peninsular states Kedah was ravaged, the capital demolished, and the
remaining inhabitants carried off to Aceh. The following year another five
thousand people were taken from Perak. A Frenchman visiting Aceh at
the time reckoned that around 22,000 prisoners had been taken away from
the areas Iskandar had conquered, but the lack of food in Aceh meant that
most of them 'died naked in the streets'. The small kingdoms along the
southern Sumatran coasts understandably feared the same fate, and only a
promise of protection from both the Dutch and the English was sufficient
to dissuade the ruler of Jambi from moving his capital far into the interior.
Other newly emergent centres of archipelago trade, such as Banten in
west Java and Makassar in Sulawesi, were also determined to establish
their superiority over surrounding states. The territorial expansion of
Banten in Java was limited because of the existence of Mataram, but when
the Dutch arrived in 1596 its control already extended into the Lampung
region of southern Sumatra and it was in the process of attacking Palem-
bang. The Dutch commander, indeed, was promised 'the best' of any
booty taken if he would render Banten assistance in this campaign. In after
years Banten rulers continued to maintain a tight hold over their vassals,
and in 1678 an expedition was sent to punish the lord of one area because
he had been so bold as to hold a tournee on a Saturday and 'according to
Javanese custom' no one was permitted to sponsor such an occasion except
'emperors, kings and independent princes'. 39 Further east another power-
ful state, Makassar, drew considerable benefit from Portuguese assistance
in building up its military strength. Newly converted to Islam, its ruler
found little difficulty in transforming traditional rivalries towards Makas-
sar's Bugis neighbours into a crusade against unbelievers. By the 1640s
Makassar was suzerain of all the small states of southwest Sulawesi, and
had extended its dominion over the entire island of Sumbawa. During the
years of warfare, Bugis and Makassarese soldiers, dressed in their chain-
mail armour and carrying muskets which they themselves had made,
acquired for themselves a formidable reputation for ferocity and courage
which 'surpasses that of all other people in the Eastern Seas'. 40
Dominating the archipelago, however, was Mataram, where already by
1600 the basis had been laid for future expansion.-Under Sultan Agung
(r. 1613-46) Mataram extended its power to the northern coast and to the
island of Madura, finally defeating its most serious rival Surabaya in 1625.
Eastern Java had not been totally subdued, Banten remained independent
and successive campaigns against the Dutch in Batavia had failed. None-
theless, by the time Agung died, Mataram's control had been confirmed
over the heartland of central Java and most of the northern ports. For the
first half of the seventeenth century Palembang, Jambi and Banjarmasin
were also regarded as Javanese vassals, despite treaties made independ-
ently with the Dutch East India Company.
Historians have pointed to Agung's reliance on consensus and consulta-
tion to maintain the links between Mataram and its vassal states, but
should this fail force was the principal means of compelling obedience.
39
J. A. van der Chijs et al., eds, Dagh Register Gehouden inl Casteel Batavia, 31 vols, 1887-1931,
1678, 629.
40
William Marsden, A History of Sumatra, reprint, Kuala Lumpur, 1966, 209.

432 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
When Pajang rebelled in 1617, the city was destroyed and its entire
population moved to Mataram. Two years later Tuban was also completely
destroyed. The Dutch claimed that after Agung's campaign against Sura-
baya, 'not more than 500 of its 50-60,000 people were left, the rest having
died or gone away because of misery and famine'.41 While Javanese armies
do not appear to have used Western military technology to the same extent
as Ava or Makassar, Agung's success reportedly owed much to the
recruitment of Portuguese advisers who taught his commanders how to
make gunpowder. Certainly Javanese chronicles see military supremacy as
a major reason for Mataram's victories. In the words of a babad of the early
eighteenth century:
They began to make cannon . . .

The Adipatis all marched out
Taking with them the great guns.42
Suzerainty of the Javanese interior over the coast was not new. What
does appear to be different in the seventeenth century was the degree of
force now necessary to maintain this overlordship. A century before,
coastal rulers had regarded themselves as the equal of the interior kings;
memories of this former independence were not easily forgotten. Even
fifty years after the conquest of Surabaya, many coastal regencies saw
themselves as merely 'occupied' by the central Javanese. To a casual
observer it might seem as if the governors subject to Mataram had
considerable autonomy, but in many respects this was illusory, for no
longer were the coastal ports able to maintain an essentially separate
existence; the chronicles regularly record how regents from areas like
Surabaya and Cirebon came to offer personal obeisance, 'offering life and
death'. Regardless of the privileges accorded such regents, they were still
required to render account to their overlord of all happenings in their
domains and to ensure that his orders were carried out. In addition, the
marriage ties which so often helped to temper overlord-vassal tensions
were increasingly absent in Java because Mataram rulers tended to choose
wives from among the ladies of their own court.43 For the coastal lords the
reality of their relationship with Mataram was a constant humiliation and it
is significant that when Mataram's superior force declined after Agung's
death they were only too ready to defy the centre, necessitating further use
of force. The dismissal of regents for some real or imagined crime became a
relatively common occurrence, and between 1694 and 1741 at least five
coastal lords who had opposed the Mataram ruler were executed.
41
S c h r i e k e , Indonesian Sociological Studies, II. 148.
42
M. Ricklefs, Modern Javanese Historical Traditions, London: School of Oriental and African
Studies, University of London, 1978, 36-7.
43
Luc W. Nagtegaal, 'Rijden op een Hollandse Tijger. De Noordkust van Java en de V.O.C.
1620-1742', Ph.D. thesis, Utrecht University, 1988, 93.

KINGSHIP AND CENTRALIZATION IN THE

SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
The death of these lords, killed by their king, points to a continuing

question in Southeast Asian statecraft—to what degree should royal
power be shared? In most states, accepted attitudes towards the decision-
making process had always placed a high value on consensus. The same
traditions which allowed any respected individual to contribute to discus-
sion in village debates had been maintained as state structures became
more elaborate. In the assemblies of nobles which governed Malay states,
for instance, rules for correct behaviour guaranteed speakers a fair hearing:
'When people are talking in the Assembly . . . let no one interrupt a
conversation between two persons.' To facilitate joint agreement, all
information should ideally be shared: 'The raja must speak of all things,
whether good or evil, to his nobles; the nobles should also tell the raja all
things.'44 Even a court like Java, which Europeans saw as autocratic,
retained the notion of the free exchange of ideas between king and his
advisers.
Popular views of the king's supernatural powers notwithstanding,
when he met with his nobles his proverbial relationship (to use Malay
imagery) should be that of a tree to its roots, of fire to its fuel, of a captain
to his crew. Yet in actuality the ruler was often at loggerheads with both
his nobles and his family, and should they oppose him he could easily be
outnumbered. Throughout Southeast Asian history there are repeated
instances of a cabal of powerful individuals acting against the ruler. In
Ayutthaya, for example, Prasat Thong had been made king in 1629 when
as kalahom (the principal minister) he and his court following took control
of the army and seized power. On the kalahom's recommendation, the
nobles then sentenced the king to be executed. In 1651 it was the Assembly
of Nobles of Perak, led by the bendahara (chief minister) who quite inde-
pendently of the king murdered representatives of the Dutch East India
Company as they were delivering a letter to court. By 1655, when a boy
ruler came to the throne, the bendahara and his associates were in complete
control. Despite Dutch protests to Perak's overlord, Aceh, he was never
brought to justice.
The balance could also be weighted against the ruler because nobles had
extensive resources of their own. The twenty-member council or Hlutdaw
of Ava, for instance, was made up of senior ministers and secretaries who,
with additional assistants, supervised most aspects of the country's econo-
my. Court politics were therefore characterized by factional struggles as
rulers attempted to align themselves with powerful nobles in order to gain
a secure hold on the throne both for themselves and their heirs. It is these
struggles that lay behind the succession disputes which occurred in most
centres with almost monotonous regularity. In 1631 the son of the Nguyen
ruler, though overcoming a challenge from his brother supported by a
44
Cited in B. Andaya, Perak, the Abode of Grace: A Study of an Eighteenth Century Malay State,
Kuala Lumpur, 1979, 29.

434 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
group of Japanese from Fai-fo, felt it necessary to imprison four other half-
brothers, sons of royal concubines; in Ayutthaya during 1656 three kings
ascended the throne in a little more than two months before Narai was
finally installed the following year.
In their efforts to retain power, rulers constantly laboured to increase
their own resources vis-a-vis potential rivals, and the course of the seven-
teenth century thus sees a growing tendency to concentrate trade in the
hands of the ruler and his agents. Royal participation in trade not only
became commonplace; in many places the ruler's commercial activities
completely dominated those of his relatives or nobles. In Ayutthaya in the
seventeenth century 72 per cent of all ships mentioned in Dutch sources
(excluding foreign vessels) was registered in the king's name. As time
went on many rulers, encouraged by the duty European traders were
willing to pay, extended the range of royal monopolies. Previously these
had covered only rare items like elephant tusks and gems, but they now
came to include profitable everyday products such as pepper, rattans
and deerhides. Advantageously priced goods, duties and obligatory gifts
further swelled the royal treasuries. A Brunei manuscript, for instance,
specifies that the sultan should pay only 80 per cent of the ordinary price
for any goods he bought, while at the same time receiving 10 per cent toll
from all sales in his port. The same text cites the case of a Chinese captain
wishing to avoid paying extra duty on his vessel; to do so he had to present
the syahbandar (head of the port) with a gift of 100 reals, but the ruler
received seven times that amount.
It was not only through trade that the wealth of kings grew. It was usual
in most states for the property of foreigners or individuals lacking the
protection of another noble to revert to the king. When an owner of a
house died, a Spanish visitor to Cambodia remarked, 'all that is in it
returnest to the king and the wife and children hide what they can and
begin to seek a new life'.45 In Ayutthaya the custom whereby half a man's
property was to go to the king after his death was said to have been
introduced only in the reign of Ekathotsarat (r. 1605-10). From 1629,
during the reign of Prasat Thong, these exactions had increased even
further, and now 'when a noble dies, his wife and children are taken into
custody'. The same ruler found other means of increasing royal revenues,
for he also 'demanded that all subject lands and cities under the Siamese
crown list their slaves . . . he had the fruit trees counted everywhere in his
kingdom, and placed a tax on each of them'.46 This tendency to increase
impositions from the centre appears to be widespread. In 1663 the ruler of
Banten, whose control extended up into the Lampung region in south
Sumatra, required all his subjects to plant five hundred pepper vines and
bring the crop to Banten.
The growing wealth of kings also helped distance them from the
common man. In sixteenth-century Cambodia 'anyone be he ever so
simple may speak with the king', and according to tradition the Melaka
« Chandler, A History of Cambodia, 82.

* Jeremias Van Vliet, The Short History of the Kings ofSiam, trans. Leonard Y. Andaya, ed. D. K.
Wyatt, Bangkok: Siam Society, 1975, 88, 96.

hero Hang Tuah was shocked when he arrived in Turkey to find he would
not be received by the ruler, for 'in the Malay states it is always the custom
for a king to receive envoys'. 47 But as the splendour of a ruler increased,
he became increasingly less available to his subjects, a tendency which is
particularly apparent on the mainland. A Thai decree of 1740 reiterates
the king's status as 'the highest in the land, because he is godlike' and like
the rulers of Vietnam and Ava, he was rarely seen in public. While kings in
the island world may never have assumed the same status as their
mainland contemporaries, court hierarchy was still strictly observed and
rulers eagerly seized upon the novelty items brought by trade in order to
enhance their standing in relation to their peers; now kings wore glasses,
ate Dutch bread, drank Spanish wine, wore Japanese brocade and might
even, like the ruler of Banten, be entertained by a Portuguese trumpeter.
They would have found little surprising in the fact that King Narai of
Ayutthaya had an Indian cook and wore Persian clothes, for by this means
he was adopting the 'proper manners, fine food and drink and clothing
worthy of a mighty ruler'. 48
In the effort to be seen as a 'mighty ruler', great attention was given to
the royal audience. In Mataram, for instance, all coastal lords were
required to present themselves at court on specific occasions such as
Garebeg Mulud, the celebration of the Prophet's birthday, and to absent
oneself was regarded as a rebellious act. It was at such times that the king's
wealth, his high status and his pre-eminence amongst his kindred and
nobles were publicly demonstrated. In these ritual statements a particular
place was reserved for the presentation of tribute, the amount and value
of which was established by tradition and sometimes carefully prescribed.
A text from Brunei thus spells out the products which should be presented
by local chiefs—sago from Mukah, padi from Sebuyau, cotton from
Batang Lepar, gold from Melanau; in Burma written accounts were kept of
the amounts paid in tribute by vassal states, presumably to identify
defaulters. In Vietnam missions from Cambodia and the Lao states took
the form of 'uncivilized' goods like jungle products, while return gifts from
the emperor—paper, porcelain and cloth—were a symbol of his superior
standing. Perhaps the most elaborate tribute was that paid to Ayutthaya,
where at least from the fifteenth century vassals had been required to
present with their gifts two beautifully crafted trees of gold and silver
flowers, possibly derived from Hindu-Buddhist legends of magic trees
which exist in the golden age of the cycle and which will grant any wish
asked of them. The value of such gifts was considerable; according to the
Sejarah Melayu, one sent from Pasai to Ayutthaya was worth a bahara of
gold (about 170 kilograms).
As important as the value and nature of the gifts was the manner of
presentation, for the purpose of such occasions was not only the confirma-
tion of the ruler's superior position but the consolidation of ties between
overlord and vassal. The ceremony by which vassals affirmed their loyalty
47
Chandler, A History of Cambodia, 81; Kassim Ahmad, ed., Hikayat Hang Tuah, Kuala Lumpur:
Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, 1971, 468.
48
O'Kane, Ship ofSulaiman, 156.

436 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
could take various forms. In the Bugis and Makassarese states, for instance,
each noble in turn drew his kris and performed a frenzied dance known as
the kanjar, meanwhile loudly avowing his fidelity. In Vietnam Alexander
of Rhodes noted that while swearing their oath of loyalty participants were
categorized as to the clarity of their voice, for it was this which determined
the length and quality of the robes they would be given. Elsewhere a
common practice was to require the ritual drinking of water which had
been impregnated with power by the chanting of a special formula or by
dipping weapons into the container. Should an oath taken under such
conditions be broken, it was believed that a terrible curse would fall on the
guilty party. So strong was the belief in the potency of these oaths that
during the course of the seventeenth century Ayutthaya consistently
pressed independent tributary rulers to drink the water of allegiance, even
though in theory they were not required to do so.
The insistence on a public display of subservience which was a feature of
the foremost Southeast Asian states in the seventeenth century not sur-
prisingly gave rise to tensions when able princes and ministers were
required to humble themselves before an inept or unimpressive king. In a
number of cases the recurring conflict between ruler and nobles was
fuelled by the introduction of measures intended not only to concentrate
more power in royal hands, but to ensure that this power would be passed
on to the ruler's chosen successor.
SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY ADMINISTRATIVE REFORMS

AND MANPOWER CONTROL
In Ayutthaya the reforming process had begun as early as 1569 following

the trauma of the defeat by the Burmese. Naresuan had strengthened the
capital at the expense of the provinces, and this trend had continued.
Some provincial ruling houses had been almost eliminated, and consider-
able provincial manpower had been taken under royal control. In every
town yokkrabat (spies) were appointed as officials of the central govern-
ment to submit reports on the conduct of the town governor. Another
move concerned the position of the ruler's relatives. The royal princes
were not, as previously, appointed to govern provincial towns but were
required instead to live within the capital city so that they could be more
closely controlled.
Considering the close association between Ayutthaya and Burma, it
is not surprising to note somewhat similar reforms undertaken by Ava.
During the seventeenth century, particularly in the reign of Thalun
(r. 1629-48), Burmese kings concentrated princely appanages around the
capital, bringing them under much closer supervision. No longer could
high-ranking princes rule in virtual independence at a place like Prome or
Pegu; now the administration of distant areas was carried out by officers
who were clearly appointed by the centre and responsible to it. The king
was still cognizant of his kinship obligations, he was still linked by
marriage to important officials and territorial leaders, and patronage was

still an important tool of government. Nonetheless, the cumulative effects

of Thalun's reforms was to reduce the opportunities for princes and nobles
to exercise independent power.
Despite the changes which Le Thanh Ton had introduced in fifteenth-
century Vietnam in order to increase royal authority, the power which
could be wielded by strong Vietnamese nobles had become all too
apparent. The battle for supremacy between the Nguyen and Trinh
remained unresolved, even though both recruited assistance from Euro-
peans. The Trinh launched massive campaigns against the south in 1643,
1648,1661 and 1672 but, despite superior forces, they found victory eluded
them. The division of Vietnam had already been symbolized by the
construction of two great walls north of Hue in 1631, and by the late 1670s
an uneasy truce brought the establishment of two separate administrations.
Within these two spheres the assertion of central control remained a
preoccupation. Steps had already been taken to try to prevent the crys-
tallization of local power, for Alexander of Rhodes noted that royal
relatives were not permitted to hold administrative offices, and no
mandarin could govern the province where he had been born. In the
seventeenth century it appears that the major challenge to the authority of
the Trinh and Nguyen came not so much from nobles as from village
leaders whose independence had been nurtured by years of civil war.
Successive edicts passed during this, period attempted to restrict their
activities and bring them more firmly under the state's supervision. Local
officials, for instance, were no longer permitted to act as private judges
and only the village chief had the power to settle lawsuits. From 1660
taxation and manpower quotas were established for each village, and it
was the chief and elders who were required to ensure that these were duly
submitted. Similar policies were also followed in the Nguyen-controlled
areas, although in a more ethnically mixed population it was harder to
discourage Vietnamese from taking on 'undesirable' Khmer customs. The
examinations held by the Nguyen also reflected their less traditional
environment. While still required to know the Confucian classics, candi-
dates underwent an oral test and were questioned on practical matters as
well, including military matters.
In their search for a means of reaffirming the centre's pre-eminence,
both Trinh and Nguyen found a ready tool in Confucianism. The support
which religion could give to the ruler was as apparent in Vietnam as
elsewhere in Southeast Asia, but Confucian ethics had suffered consider-
ably during the years of civil war when military skills had been more
highly valued. In the new mood of the seventeenth century, however,
district leaders in the north were required to be successful Confucian
scholars who could act as models for proper behaviour and provide
instruction in Confucian tenets. In 1669 the Trinh declared that the new
title of the village leader was henceforth to be xa quan (village mandarin)
rather than xa truong (village chief). A new moral code for village life was
issued in 1663 entitled 'The Path for Religious Improvement' which
stressed political fealty and the attributes of a good subject.
Underneath the exhortations of the Nguyen and Trinh was the basic
desire of all Vietnamese governments to strengthen the centre's hold over

438 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
manpower. It has been said, indeed, that the legal code of the Le dynasty
displays a much greater interest in this aspect of government than does its
Chinese counterpart. Reforms in Ayutthaya and Ava reflect the same goal.
According to the chronicle given to the VOC official van Vliet, during the
early seventeenth century the king of Ayutthaya promulgated laws requir-
ing all commoners (prai som) to be registered under a leader (nai), who
could be either a noble or a royal prince. A tattoo on the wrist identified the
prai som of any individual nai, to whom they owed six months' service. In
return, the nai would assume general responsibility for their welfare,
particularly for any repayment of debt. The king also had servicemen of his
own, known as phrai luang, and they too were required to undertake
service for six months of the year, either in the army or in some other area.
Women and monks, though exempt from service, were nonetheless regis-
tered so that when a monk returned to the world he would return to the
service of his nai; registration of women helped determine to which nai
the children should belong. The problem kings faced was that royal service
was regarded as more onerous than service to a nai, and there was
therefore a constant trickle of phrai luang into monasteries or to the
protection of nobles and princes. The constant threat that the balance
between king and nobles might be upset saw continuing efforts to prevent
the erosion of royal manpower. One means, for instance, was to separate
the phrai from their nai by bringing the latter into the capital and keeping
his people in the provinces.
A similar concern over control of manpower can be seen in Burma,
where the non-slave population was divided into those who were not
obligated to provide the king with regular labour (athi), and ahmu-dan who
were required to supply soldiers for the army as well as numerous services
for the king, whether as a soldier, a palace servant or a labourer on an
irrigation canal. During the first half of the seventeenth century the
numbers of ahmu-dan in upper Burma rose considerably because large
sections of Pegu's population were forcibly moved to the north, being
concentrated particularly around the capital. It has been estimated that
possibly 40 per cent of the population within a 200-kilometre radius of
Ava now owed service to the king. Successive royal decrees appear
preoccupied with the compiling of lists of servicemen, incorporating new
measures to ensure that they did not change occupations or evade duty
'since it is very easy for a Burmese serviceman to be lost in a Burmese
community in this extensive territory under Burmese control'. 49
The degree of administrative reform which has been traced in the
mainland states is far less apparent in the archipelago. Under Iskandar
Muda and his son-in-law, Iskandar Thani (1636-41) the privileges of
the royal family and nobles in Aceh were substantially curtailed. Royal
princes, previously stationed in outlying areas as governors, were replaced
by officials responsible to the ruler. These officials, with the title Panglima,
were appointed every three years. They were required to report annually
and were periodically inspected by the ruler's representatives. Punish-
ment for dereliction of duty was severe; the Panglima of Tiku, for instance,
49
Than Tun, Royal Orders, 69; Lieberman, Burmese Administrative Cycles, 96-105.

had his hands and feet cut off when found guilty of charges brought
against him. Within Aceh itself Iskandar Muda is credited with laying
down the divisions into mukim or parishes which were later to be grouped
into larger administrative units. But his major concern was a potential
challenge from his own nobles, the orang kaya, and against them he took
strong measures. They were not permitted to build houses which could be
used for military defence, nor to keep cannon of their own. A register was
kept of firearms, which had to be returned to him and any who dared to
oppose him were immediately executed.
The impact of Iskandar Muda's reforms was short-lived. The death of
Iskandar Thani brought a restoration of influence for the orang kaya who
were instrumental in installing queens to rule in Aceh until the end of the
century. By the 1680s a Persian visitor described Aceh as a collection of
satrapies, where 'every corner shelters a separate king or governor and all
the local rulers maintain themselves independently and do not pay tribute
to any higher authority'. In the rest of the island world other examples of
significant administrative reforms are rare. Amangkurat I of Java (r. 1646-
77) did attempt some centralization of royal influence by tightening his
control over provincial administration and particularly over the north-coast
ports. The most important cities were placed under one or more syah-
bandar, with several officials called umbal given charge over the interior.
Japara, for instance, had four syahbandar and four umbal to supervise the
hinterland. These new appointments considerably reduced the power of
the coastal lords, making it less possible for them to oppose the king. But
to strengthen his position Amangkurat resorted to assassination of large
numbers of opponents, including nobles, princes and religious teachers,
and the hostility this engendered simply exacerbated the tendency to resist
undue intrusion by any central authority.
A number of reasons can be put forward for the slower rate of centraliza-
tion in the island world and the greater difficulty in controlling populations.
Geographic differences provide one obvious contrast. More characteristic
of maritime than of mainland Southeast Asia, for instance, is the so-called
'Sumatra-type' polity, typified by a centre at a river^mouth with the areas
of production and often of settlement located at a considerable distance
upstream. Again, a kingdom made up of a scattering of islands is far less
amenable to central control than is the floodplain of a large river basin such
as the Irrawaddy or the Menam.
A second problem was the semi-nomadic nature of many societies which
was particularly marked in maritime Southeast Asia. Those Javanese living
in areas producing wet-rice may have been relatively more settled than
peoples in other areas, but movement both internally and to other islands
was still common. Javanese lords certainly had a general idea of the
numbers of people over which they claimed suzerainty, but the term cacah,
often translated as 'household', should be seen not as a firm population
figure but as a hopeful indication of numbers of families from which tax
might be extracted. Traditional cacah figures continued to be cited, but they
became increasingly unrealistic as villagers moved away to avoid burden-
some demands for tribute and labour. In Java as elsewhere most rulers
offered rewards to interior groups who captured fleeing subjects or slaves,

440 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
but in Palembang the Pasemah people had the special status of sindang,
signifying freedom from corvee and tax, in return for acting as border
guards and capturing any royal serviceman (kapungut) discovered attempt-
ing to escape to the west coast. The kings of Palembang, however, like
most other rulers in the archipelago, were heavily dependent on the
co-operation of local authorities in the supervision of manpower and
organization of corvee. Indeed, the extent to which village elders and
family heads were able, in return for royal titles and gifts, to deliver large
numbers of people to provide service for the king is remarkable.
Their labour, however, was always conditional. Should the ruler's
demands exceed a certain level, he would find his people simply melting
away. Nor was it simply a matter of individual flight. Whole communities
could move, drawn by more attractive economic conditions or escaping
from unwelcome exactions, punishment or sickness. The Suku Pindah (the
moving tribe), so called because for generations they had moved back and
forth between Palembang and Jambi, were by no means unusual. This
kind of 'avoidance protest'50 is well illustrated in the Philippines as the
Spanish administration continued its campaign to move the population
into towns where they could be Christianized and made subject to taxes
and tribute. In mid-century at least one Spanish observer felt that the
'unconquered' Filipinos, whose numbers were constantly swelled by fugi-
tives from the lowlands, might still exceed Spanish subjects. In addition,
many Filipinos, though Christianized, were only nominally pueblo-
dwellers. In 1660 a Spanish friar admitted that so-called 'towns' in Negros
frequently consisted of only a church and a few huts where the Filipinos
stayed when they came to town on a Sunday; they sometimes lived as
much as half a day's travel beyond the township. More than a generation
later another priest lamented that 'the innate desire of these savages is to
live in their caves and their forests'.51
But perhaps the most dramatic demonstrations of group flight were the
great migrations of Bugis and Makassarese nobles and their followers in
the wake of continued disturbances during the course of the century,
especially after the Dutch combined with the Bugis leader Arung Palakka
(r. 1669-96) to defeat Makassar in 1669. As many as two thousand individ-
uals could be included in one fleet, and because of their reputation as
fighters and traders most kings were ready to receive them. In Sumbawa,
Flores, Java, Madura, Borneo, Sumatra, the Malay peninsula and even
Ayutthaya, refugees from Sulawesi established Bugis and Makassarese
communities. Islands such as Kangian off the coast of Java and Siantan
in the South China Sea became Bugis-Makassarese strongholds, and in the
early eighteenth century Bugis even succeeded in claiming control of
the underpopulated region of Selangor, a territory under Johor on the west
coast of the Malay peninsula.
As the Bugis diaspora shows, one of the continuing difficulties in
controlling manpower in the archipelago was that there were simply so
many places where a runaway could find refuge and where he and his
50
The term is used by Michael Adas, 'From footdragging to flight: the evasive history of
peasant avoidance in South and Southeast Asia', journal of Peasant Studies, 13, 2 (1981) 65.
51
Angel M. Cuesta, History of Negros, Manila: Historical Conservation Society, 1980, 42, 111.

family would be welcomed. In 1651 Amangkurat I of Java forbade any of

his subjects to travel outside Java. Since it would have been impossible to
maintain a watch over Java's entire coastline, there is little likelihood that
any such measure could have been successful. In the words of the ruler of
Palembang in 1747, 'it is very easy for a subject to find a lord, but it is much
more difficult for a lord to find a subject'.52
A further complication in the Indonesian archipelago was that native
states were now competing for manpower and resources with the expand-
ing presence of the VOC. The Dutch took Melaka from the Portuguese in
1641 and during the course of the seventeenth century they effectively
eliminated all other European competition, eventually relegating the
English to a single post in Benkulen in west Sumatra. In pursuit of their
commercial aims, the Dutch became heavily involved in local affairs,
especially on Java. Despite a siege in 1628-9, Sultan Agung of Mataram
had failed to conquer Batavia. The dynasty's consequent loss of prestige
was not restored by the extreme policies adopted by Agung's son Amang-
kurat I, and omens and dire prophecies of impending collapse were
increasingly reported as the end of the Javanese century in 1677 CE
approached. In 1670-1 a Madurese prince, Trunajaya, allied with the
crown prince, religious figures and Makassarese refugees to launch a full-
scale rebellion in east Java. By 1676 he controlled most of the coastal areas.
There seems little doubt that had developments been allowed to run their
course a new royal house, presumably headed by Trunajaya, would have
assumed power. However, at this point the VOC reluctantly decided that
its interests would be best served by some form of intervention to support
the existing 'legitimate' Mataram line, especially as the rebels had begun to
show signs of being anti-Dutch. In 1677 Amangkurat and the VOC
concluded a military alliance, and by the end of 1680 Trunajaya was dead,
killed by Amangkurat II (r. 1677-1703) himself. Two years later the Dutch
also became involved in a succession dispute in Banten, and shortly
afterwards its king became a VOC vassal.
Throughout the rest of the archipelago the Dutch were also discovering
that it was almost impossible to pursue commercial goals without involve-
ment in regional affairs, an involvement which was made the more likely
by the lodges and factories established wherever the VOC saw commercial
opportunities. These enclaves, where the Dutch claimed extra-territorial
rights, were frequently regarded by local societies as a refuge if the
exactions of kings or nobles became too great. But the Dutch also com-
plained of the flight of criminals, debtors and deserters to the shelter of
some neighbouring court, and it became common for treaties signed
between the VOC and their allies to include a clause on mutual exchange
of runaways. In many places long arguments developed over whether the
children of a liaison between an Indonesian mother and a Dutch father
were local or 'Dutch', and VOC officials were often prepared to engage in
drawn-out negotiations to retain authority over their 'subjects'. Another
sensitive issue concerned control over foreigners, notably Chinese. Those
who had adopted Islam and married Indonesian women were generally
52 VOC 2699, Resident of Palembang to Batavia, 13 March 1747 fo. 51.

442 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
regarded as being under local jurisdiction, but the arrival of large numbers
of migrants following disturbances in China during the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries meant that in an increasing number of courts the
question of 'Dutch' versus 'local' Chinese remained unresolved.
The island world differs further from the mainland in that some cultures
actively encouraged their men to leave. The one which comes most readily
to mind is that of Minangkabau where the inheritance of land and family
goods through the female line impelled young males to leave the village
(merantau) to make a living. Extensive migration led to a marked increase in
Minangkabau settlements in Linggi and Negeri Sembilan on the west coast
of the Malay peninsula, and along both coasts of Sumatra. Minangkabau
rulers made no effort to summon their people back, but a sense of group
identity remained strong and still in the late eighteenth century Minang-
kabau communities in the peninsula received their leaders from their
original homeland. While its resemblance to great mainland kingdoms
such as Ava is slight, the claim of Minangkabau rulers to exercise a vague
overlordship over all Sumatra was widely accepted, though never support-
ed by resorting to arms. It is difficult to overestimate the extraordinary
respect with which the kings and queens of Minangkabau were regarded
by the people of the archipelago. Even a text from as far away as Bima
accepts the general Sumatran view that they were of the same origin as
and equal to the kings of Turkey and China.
THE CREATION OF THE 'EXEMPLARY CENTRE'53
By the mid-seventeenth century hundreds of years of exposure to stories

of the splendour of great rulers in distant lands had furnished Southeast
Asians with a perception of kingship as the epitome of powerful govern-
ment. Burmese kings built their religious buildings according to Sinhalese
designs and a panegyric commissioned in Aceh in the early seventeenth
century was apparently modelled on the Akbarnama, a Persian text extoll-
ing the reign of the Great Mogul. Powerful though such examples were,
however, Southeast Asians could also draw on their own much nearer
past. It was in Pagan that Tabinshwehti was crowned king of upper
Burma, while an eighteenth-century Vietnamese historian notes that the
usurper Mac Dang Dung 'maintained all the Le laws and systems, and did
not dare to change or abolish any of them' because he was afraid of
possible rebellions from the people 'who were full of memories of the old
dynasty'.54 Nor was the heritage of Angkor lightly laid aside. According to
a Portuguese account, the temple complex was 'rediscovered' in the late
sixteenth century by a king who was 'filled with admiration' at its splen-
dours. Ayutthayan rulers were equally anxious to link themselves with the
mixed Thai-Khmer traditions of the period before 1569, and a seventeenth-
century chronicle makes Angkor a creation of the first Ayutthayan king.
53
The phrase is from Clifford Geertz, Islam Observed. Religious Development in Morocco and
Indonesia, New Haven, 1968, 36.
5« Yu, 'Law and Family', 34.

Prasat Thong even had a plan of Angkor Wat copied to use as the basis for
two new buildings, and talked about giving the name of Yasodhara to one
of his palaces.55
In the western archipelago, memories of Melaka also remained powerful
incentives to the restoration of Malay control in the straits long after its
conquest by Portugal. A seventeenth-century Malay scribe, copying out the
old Melaka law codes, noted wistfully that these were compiled 'in the days
when Melaka was still strong'. Johorese expectations of their alliance with
the VOC in 1602 are suggested by a popular Malay hikayat which depicts
Malays and Dutch together defeating the Portuguese and then ruling
jointly over a newly emergent Melaka. In Java the passage of time had
enhanced Majapahit's reputation as an example of centralized power. Malay
sources of the period extol the ruler of Majapahit, whose sovereignty
extended from the interior of Java 'to the shores of the southern ocean' and
to whom the kings of Banten, Jambi, Palembang, Bugis, Makassar, Johor,
Pahang, Champa, Minangkabau, Aceh and Pasai had all allegedly paid
homage. In the seventeenth century Javanese sources depict Trunajaya
urging Sultan Agung's grandson to move to Majapahit 'so that the whole
island of Java may know your Highness has established his court there'. 56
The collective effect of such potent examples was becoming increasingly
apparent by the mid-seventeenth century. It is probable that the number of
'kingless' communities, where government continued to be carried out by
councils of elders and heads of clans, far outnumbered the 'kingdoms'. But
for the most part these were interior peoples, like the Bisayas of Brunei of
whom a Spaniard remarked, 'they have no lord who governs them and
whom they obey, although in each settlement there are some important
persons'. Only in a few coastal areas had these kingless societies man-
aged to retain power. For example, prior to its destruction by the Dutch,
Banda had been ruled by an 'oligarchy of elders' made up of village leaders
who met frequently in councils to deal with problems and settle disputes.
To a growing extent, however, Southeast Asians themselves were coming
to see the lack of kings as a characteristic of lesser peoples. Nandabayin of
Pegu (r. 1581-99) was allegedly greatly amused when he heard that Venice
was a free state without a king, and English traders in Jambi found they
had a powerful argument in their claim that their Dutch rivals had no
monarch; VOC officials themselves admitted that for local people, 'this is
the point around which the compass turns'. 58
The identification of several key states as 'power centres' in the seven-
teenth century is not simply a construct of a modern historian, for in the
seventeenth century a number of rulers boasted that they stood high above
their neighbours. In Ava the ruler held an elaborate ritual to make himself
'king of kings' in order to subdue 'all the other one hundred kings'; the
55
Michael Vickery, 'The composition and transition of the Ayudhya and Cambodian chroni-
cles', in A. J. S. Reid and David Marr, eds, Perceptions of the Past in Southeast Asia, Singapore,
1979.
56
M. C. Ricklefs. 'Six Centuries of Islamization on Java' in N. Levitzion, Conversion to Islam,
New York, 1979, 110.
57
John S. Carroll, 'Berunai in the Boxer Codex', JMBRAS, 55, 2 (1982) 3.
58 J. W. J. Wellan, 'Onze Eerste Verstiging in Djambi', BKI, 81(1926) 376.

444 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
Thais boasted that since the time of Naresuan 'they had never been subject
to any other prince of this world'. A Makassar chronicle sees only Aceh
and Mataram as its equals, while the ruler of Aceh considered himself to be
'the most powerful monarch in the world'. In 1667 Amangkurat I of
Mataram referred to himself as the one 'to whom all the kings of the
Javanese and Malay lands pay homage'. 59
The hierarchy which these rulers perceived was to a considerable extent
accepted by their neighbours. The Khmers, for instance, gradually came to
take on the Thai view that they were inferior, and even incorporated into
their own histories Ayutthaya's accounts of its victories over Cambodia,
accounts which do not mention a Khmer revival in the early seventeenth
century. What Khmers remembered was the defeat of Lovek in 1594 and
their forced acceptance of Thai overlordship during the eighteenth century.
According to legend, Lovek contained two sacred statues inside which
were holy books containing special secret knowledge. It was to obtain
these that the king of Siam attacked and defeated Cambodia. 'After reading
the books, the Thais became superior in knowledge to the Cambodians.
The assertion of a hierarchy of states within Southeast Asia is matched
by a growing tendency to see the centre as 'civilized' and those who live
outside this environment as 'wild'. The epithet of 'wild' applied particu-
larly to groups who had not accepted the dominant religious faith and
whose lifestyle clearly contrasted with that of the capital culture. The
Vietnamese made no sustained effort to spread Confucian customs into
the highlands, and the fifteenth-century Le code, while allowing these
areas to follow their own laws, had forbidden intermarriage between
Vietnamese and hill tribes. Thai and Burman histories also saw Kachins,
Karen, Chins, Lahus, Lawas and other illiterate, animist hill peoples as
'barbaric', and talk of country people 'loafing around'. In the Philippines
the growth of this attitude can be linked with the separation between
Christian and 'pagan', for 'barbarians' were those who lived away from
organized communities and who were not amenable to the teachings of
the Church. One priest felt that
the mode of living of these Bisayans . . . appears to oppose all that is rational
justice. They make the greatest effort to live like savages, as far as possible
from the church, priest, governors and their own gobernadorcillo [petty gover-
nor] so as to live in freedom without God and without obedience to the king.61
The perception of those who do not share the mainstream culture as

inferior is also a measure of their irrelevance to the centre. Similar expres-
sions of contempt are far less apparent in those states where minority
groups retained an important political or economic role. In the seventeenth
century the king of Champa had a wife from the highlands, and in
Cambodia when the hill tribes came down to present their tribute, flutes
59
Than Tun, Royal Orders, I. 28; van Vliet, Short History, 81; W. Ph. Coolhaas Generate Missiven
van Gouverneurs-Ceneraal en Raden aan Heren XVII der Verenigde Oostindische Cotnpagnie, The
Hague, 1960-85, I. 103; Schrieke, Indonesian Sociological Studies, II. 222.
60
Chandler, History of Cambodia, 84.
« Bruce Cruikshank, Samar 1768-1898, Manila, 1985, 42.

were played softly and the gifts enumerated as the 'uncles' (the Cam-
bodians) received the willing tribute of their 'nephews' (the hill tribes) and
in return presented their chiefs with swords and the titles of Fire King and
Water King. Johor and other Malay states continued to rely on the skills
of the orang laut (the non-Malay sea peoples) for patrols and the collection
of ocean products well into the eighteenth century. Orang laut leaders
therefore retained an influential voice in government. In one Johor chroni-
cle from the early eighteenth century, for example, the head of the orang
laut is included in conferences concerning delicate matters of state. Where-
as the request of a Gwe Karen for an Ayutthayan princess was rejected
because he came of 'a race of forest dwellers', Dutch sources from the same
period demonstrate how the king of jambi was related to orang laut chiefs
through his womenfolk. The gradual displacement of animist groups
which occurred through the eighteenth century is a reflection of wider
political and economic changes which were to affect the entire region.
THE FRAGMENTATION OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

None of the great centres of the seventeenth century survived into modern
times. By the early 1800s new dynasties ruled in Burma, Siam and
Vietnam; in the island world Banten and Makassar had both lost their
status as independent entrepots, Mataram was divided into two, and Aceh
had been torn by two generations of civil strife. In tracing the reasons for
these developments in mainland Southeast Asia, it could be argued that
the very process of centralization contained within itself the seeds of
fragmentation. Only a powerful centre could maintain its position in the
face of the cumulative tensions induced by continuing efforts to tighten
supervision of people and resources. Whenever the dominance of the
capital was questioned, it was reflected in the steady seepage of manpower
away from royal control. In societies where the king was heavily reliant on
his armies to maintain his own standing against potential opposition, this
loss of manpower was serious, especially if it coincided with conflicts over
succession or the sharing of power.
In Ayutthaya the drift of population from the centre may have begun as
far back as the 1630s, and the continuing incorporation of foreigners into
royal service reflects the need of successive rulers to strengthen their
position in relation to other manpower-controlling groups. At the same
time the problem of kingly succession had never been resolved. In 1688 a
group of Ayutthaya nobles, apparently alienated by King Narai's patron-
age of foreigners, acted to remove a Greek adventurer, Constantine
Phaulkon, who had been appointed Mahatthai. The leader of the cabal, a
noble who was Narai's foster brother, was made regent on behalf of the
dying king. He quickly moved to have Phaulkon arrested and beheaded
and on Narai's death assumed the throne himself. But while the dynasty
he founded endured eighty years, it faced undercurrents of opposition.
There are several references to village rebellions led by 'holy men', and the
succession of King Borommakot (r. 1733-58) was only secured after a battle

446 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
with rival princes which involved several thousand men. The Malay
tributaries grew increasingly restive, and on several occasions it was
necessary to despatch armies to subdue the rebellious peninsular states.
Burma was if anything more prey to internal division. Between 1660 and
1715 there were at least eleven attempts to usurp the throne, and as a
result the hlutdaw came to exert a much greater influence in the selection of
rulers. In 1695 an English visitor considered that the two most powerful
ministers in fact 'ruled the kingdom', and by the turn of the century the
'royal business' was considered insufficient to warrant a daily meeting
between the king and his council. The ruler's failure to resolve a dispute in
the Buddhist monkhood over matters of doctrine contributed to the
general atmosphere of unease. Not surprisingly, those vassal states that
had never willingly accepted Ava's overlordship began to fall away.
Chiengmai was lost in 1727, and in 1739 the Shan state of Kengtung drove
out a saw-bwa appointed by Ava. Added to this was the fact that many
royal servicemen were evading their obligations by avoiding registration,
commuting their service through payments, entering the monkhood or
placing themselves under the protection of other princes or nobles. In Ava
the king's militia was seriously under strength as ahmu-dan and athi alike
attempted to be registered as debt slaves in order to escape royal service.
Indications of the centre's concern are seen in the periodic checks ordered
to ensure that 'undesirables' did not enter monasteries, and a royal decree
of 1728 which prohibits menial labourers in the palace from being ordained
as Buddhist monks. Those escaping from debts or service could also,
however, place themselves under village leaders, rebel monks or bandits
who had set up their own centres of localized power in opposition to the
centre. Everywhere representatives appointed by the central government
were becoming victims of peasant discontent, and between 1727 and 1743
the governors of Martaban, Tavoy, Syriam, Toungoo and Prome were all
killed or driven out by local rebels.
The beginning of the end came with the rebellion of Pegu, which had
recovered after the devastation of the late seventeenth century but was
subjected to a heavy tax burden. In 1740 its leaders declared their inde-
pendence. Twelve years later, after continuous raiding of the Irrawaddy
basin, a southern army which included representatives of several ethnic
groups and was led by a prince of Shan descent stood outside the walls of
Ava. In early 1752 after two months of siege the city fell, the king fled, and
the Toungoo dynasty ended. Just fifteen years later the same fate befell
Ayutthaya, where yet another succession dispute had broken out. In 1760
a new ruler in Burma, the founder of the Konbaung dynasty, threw the
rejuvenated strength of Burmese might against Ayutthaya, an attack
which was renewed by his sons, and Ayutthaya fell in 1767. The Thai
capital, however, suffered far more than Ava had done; it was as if the
hostilities of the last two centuries had finally found full expression. Its
buildings were torched and pillaged, its inhabitants killed or captured.
Deprived of a king and a focus of government, Ayutthaya broke up into
five separate regions. For the first time in nearly four hundred years the
Menam basin was once more politically fragmented.
But it was in Vietnam where the challenge to the existing order was

greatest. Efforts by the Trinh to exert greater control over village leaders
had been unsuccessful, and many peasants were refusing to be drafted for
military service. In 1711 the centre had been forced to allow the village
to allot public land within its own jurisdiction, and by the 1730s even
the census records were not being maintained properly. The ability of the
landed and privileged to escape tax payments meant that the burden was
carried by ever fewer people who were at the same time the ones least able
to pay. Reforms aimed at taxing private land and widely used items like
salt were ineffective, and by 1713 less than one-third of the population
under the Trinh were subject to taxation. In 1730 officials were appointed
to induce wandering peasants to return home, but only a decade later it
was calculated that one-third of the villages were deserted.
The flight of manpower meant both a decline in cultivation and a
breakdown in provincial administration. In six provinces in 1721 financial
problems compelled the Trinh to abolish the position of the commissioner
responsible for checking the growth of undue local power, and as a result
the incidence of corruption and oppression in village government mark-
edly increased. Censors reported that 'in the villages the notables, using
thousands of tricks, ruling arbitrarily, grabbing other people's property to
enrich themselves, oppressing the poor, despising the illiterate, avail
themselves of the least opportunity to indict people and bring suits against
them'.62 Lack of food and ineffective officialdom in turn contributed to an
increase in peasant rebellion as wandering peasantry organized them-
selves into bands of local insurgents. Contemporary accounts depict a time
of terrible famine, when 'people roamed about, carrying their children in
search of some rice, lived on vegetables and herbs, ate rats and snakes'.
In this climate the continuing rule of the Trinh was difficult to justify, and
in a rebellion in the southern delta peasants carried banners proclaiming
'Restore the Le, destroy the Trinh'. It was not long, however, before some
voices were even raised against the Le, whom intermarriage had made
simply part of the Trinh clan. As elsewhere in Southeast Asia, people with
special qualities, monks, scholars and holy men, emerged to assume
leadership of peasant rebels. Some groups succeeded in establishing
independent domains where they anulled debts, redistributed land and
abolished taxation. One revolt, led by a Confucian scholar and made up of
many thousands of peasants, was even able to defeat two Trinh generals.
In the Nguyen-controlled territory, official corruption and the dwindling
of foreign trade similarly combined with famines to bring about a collapse
of the tax base. Scholar-officials clearly warned the Nguyen that 'the
people's misery has reached an extreme degree'. As the century pro-
gressed, revolts grew in intensity. In 1771 three brothers from the hamlet
of Tayson in south central Vietnam emerged as leaders of what was to
become the most effective resistance movement yet seen in Southeast
Asia. Despite the fact that the government it established did not last, the
Tayson rebellion not only succeeded in reuniting north and south Vietnam
but also signalled the end of the old Confucian order.
Much of the island world in the mid-eighteenth century was also in
62
Yu, 'Law and Family', 224.

448 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
disarray. It would be easy to attribute this to the influence of the Euro-

peans—on the one hand the Spanish, now suzerain over most of the
Philippines except for the Muslim south, and the VOC, which was not
only overlord of Java, but had built up a network of alliances which linked
it with kingdoms from the north of Sumatra across to the eastern islands.
However, the question of the effects of the European presence must be
approached with caution, for local society retained its own dynamics.
A prime example of an event which had far-reaching implications, but
in which the Dutch played only a minor part, concerns a case of regicide in
Johor in 1699. The nobles, refusing to tolerate any longer the king's
excesses, together plotted his assassination. Although the bendahara was
duly installed as ruler, and although Johor quickly recovered economical-
ly, Malay society was deeply divided. Many orang laut, whose relationship
with the Johor dynasty stretched back to the days of Melaka, simply
refused to serve under the new order. The divisions created by the crime of
derhaka (treason) opened the way for the seizure of the throne in 1718 by a
Minangkabau prince who not only claimed to be the son of the murdered
ruler but brought with him the imprimatur of the queen of Minangkabau.
At this point a large party of Bugis refugees arrived in the area, allied with
the displaced Bendahara, and drove the Minangkabau prince out. As a
result of these events, a new political arrangement came into being in
Johor, whereby the Malay sultan took secondary place to the Bugis raja
muda. In time the trauma associated with the regicide faded, but for many
Malays the new dynasty located on the island of Riau remained a perma-
nent reminder that the Melaka line had ended.
In assessing the impact of the Europeans on political developments in
the archipelago one must also remember that their numbers were never
great. In concluding commercial treaties, VOC officials dealt almost exclu-
sively with the ruler and his court, and this meant that outside Java
comparatively few areas were deeply touched by the Dutch. It is equally
useful to note the limited European presence in the Philippines. As late as
1800 there were almost no Spanish posts at altitudes higher than 150
metres, and except in the central plain of Luzon few Spaniards lived more
than fifteen kilometres from the sea. For most Filipinos in the lowlands,
their only European contact was with the clergy, who were the linchpin of
the Spanish administration, yet their numbers too were small. In Samar in
the western Visayas, a province of more than 13,000 square kilometres
with an official population in 1770 of 33,350, there were only fifteen
priests. While priests acted as local schoolteachers, doctors, archivists,
linguists, and spiritual advisers for town-dwellers, there were many small
communities of baptized Christians who saw a priest only once a year.
Interaction between Spaniard and Filipino was frequently eased because
the Spanish friars, who spent their lives in isolated posts, often developed
a considerable understanding of local society. The same comment also
applies to VOC officials, many of whom had been born in the Indies and
easily adopted local symbols of leadership to enhance their own standing,
employing the kingly insignia of umbrella and betel box and even on
occasion the golden gelang (anklets) of Malay royalty. In their correspond-
ence governors-general exploited the terminology of kinship, addressing

rulers as 'son' or 'grandson' and referring to themselves as a 'father'. In the

exchange of gifts, the Dutch in many cases acted like an overlord accepting
tribute. The small island of Roti in eastern Indonesia, for instance, sent
wax, slaves and rice to Batavia, while the governor-general responded
with 'civilized' products such as muskets, fine cloth, gold and silver
batons, and Dutch gin. During the conclusion of a treaty on Timor, Dutch
and Timorese signatories even sealed the treaty by drinking one another's
mingled blood.
On the other side, the desire of locals to absorb these outsiders in the
way they understood best is suggested by the numbers of Europeans
adopted as sons or brothers, accorded high titles and presented with robes
of honour. An eighteenth-century Javanese babad attempts to bring the
Dutch into the fabric of Javanese history by transforming the famed
Governor-General Jan Pieterszoon Coen (1619-23, 1627-9) into Mur Jang-
kung, son of Baron Sukmul of Spain and a princess from Pajajaran. The
latter's flaming genitals mark her as an ardhanariciwari, possession of
whom can make even the poorest man king. Mur Jangkung vows to wreak
revenge when he learns that the Pangeran of Jakarta banished his mother
because he could not sleep with her. Loaded with beer, wine, bread and
war materials, Mur Jangkung's fleet arrives in Java. He successfully takes
Jakarta, thus regaining his birthright and installing his descendants (the
Dutch) as the legitimate successors of Pajajaran and the proper rulers of
west Java.
Nonetheless, the Dutch could never be just another indigenous power:
they were different in the determination with which they pursued their
very specific goals, and the assumptions on which they formulated policy
were often incomprehensible to local peoples. But while for many archi-
pelago communities the advent of the Dutch had brought hostility and
conflict, there were numerous others for whom the VOC was a powerful
and protective friend. The Bugis leader Arung Palakka, for instance,
assisted the Dutch in the attack on his old enemy Makassar. When the
combined Dutch and Bugis forces were successful, Arung Palakka was
installed as overlord of all Sulawesi with the title Torisompae (the Venerated
One) previously held by the Makassar king. In return for Dutch support,
he agreed to expel from his lands all other European traders. Now when
the Bugis performed the kanjar and swore their oath of loyalty, they did so
not only before their own king but the Company as well. 'Look at me,
Commissaris!' proclaimed one Bugis lord as the drums were beaten and he
danced his allegiance, 'let me meet the enemies of the Company and I shall
fight them sword in hand!' 63
Another example of an area where association with the Dutch left
memories of a zaman mas, a golden age, comes from the Malay peninsula
where the state of Perak had long been threatened by outside powers like
Aceh and Ayutthaya because of its extensive tin deposits. In 1746 the ruler
signed a treaty with the VOC which granted the Dutch a monopoly of all
Perak tin in return for protection. Although there were periods of tension,
63
J. Noorduyn, 'The Bugis auxiliaries from Tanete in the Chinese War in Java, 1742-1744', in
C. M. S. Hellwig and S. O. Robson, eds, A Man of Indonesian Letters. Essays in Honour of
Professor A. Teeuw, Dordrecht, 1986, 279.

450 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
particularly when the Dutch made attempts to negotiate a lower tin price,
the treaty endured until the demise of the Company in 1795.
What these two cases illustrate is the degree to which the Dutch could
and did influence the course of local politics in pursuit of trading advan-
tages. For both Arung Palakka and the Perak court, Dutch friendship was
crucial; without it, Arung Palakka would not have been able to avenge the
humiliation of defeat and regain his homeland; if left to itself, Perak would
probably have fallen under the control of a stronger neighbour like
Selangor. In the changing relationships between states, and in the power
struggles within them, the role of the VOC was often decisive. Lacking
support from Dutch forces, for instance, the family which ruled the
pepper-producing state of Jambi would have been replaced in the 1690s;
the measure of the king's unpopularity is indicated by the extent of
population movement away from his jurisdiction and his descent into that
anomaly in Southeast Asia, a king with no subjects. Similarly the region of
Lampung in the southern part of Sumatra would have fallen under the
control of Palembang during the eighteenth century had not the VOC
acted to safeguard the interests of its vassal Banten. A converse situation
prevailed on the west coast of Sumatra, where the Dutch encouraged the
spread of Minangkabau authority following the VOC's successful military
expeditions against the Acehnese in 1666 and 1667. In a treaty signed in
1668, Minangkabau was confirmed as the overlord of the west coast from
Barus to Manjuta; the Dutch representative at Padang was appointed
'stadthouder' on behalf of the Minangkabau ruler.
Dutch anxiety to ensure that local power structures favoured their
presence often meant real shifts in traditional patterns of authority. On a
number of islands in eastern Indonesia, for instance, the Dutch passed
over ritually superior 'religious' figures when recognizing rulers or regents
because they felt such people were not amenable to political control.
Instead, they tended to regard as legitimate those figures whom they
perceived as 'secular'. By so doing they often elevated individuals who in
fact merely held a lower rank in the priestly hierarchy. Another example
of the way authority was reshaped comes from Barus, on the west coast of
Sumatra. Here jurisdiction was shared between two kings, an 'upstream'
and a 'downstream' raja (both of whom actually lived downstream).
In order to further their access to camphor supplies in the interior,
where both rulers had connections, the VOC played one against the other.
In 1694 the Dutch abolished the dual' rajaship, although the effective
division of authority between upstream and downstream eventually re-
emerged with the position of raja rotating between the upstream and
downstream families.
The question often arises as to why the Dutch were able to maintain
their position in the island world for so long. In part, the reason lies in
the profusion of small political units which had always been a feature of
the island world and which the VOC helped to perpetuate by working to
prevent regional alliances which might form the basis of an anti-Dutch
coalition. Furthermore, the Dutch were always able to find one Indonesian
group to use against another because local rulers themselves often saw a
VOC alliance as a means of gaining an advantage over some long-time

enemy. It was thus never possible for any anti-VOC alliance to maintain
enough sustained support to ensure success. In the course of the seven-
teenth and eighteenth centuries various calls were made to rally Muslims
against the infidels, but these were insufficient to overcome a tradition
which had stressed localized loyalty rather than joint action. A test case
came in 1756-7 when Bugis forces from Riau blockaded Melaka. For the
better part of a year the town lay helpless, and the siege was only lifted
when a fleet arrived from Batavia in mid-1757. Yet neither then nor in 1784,
when the Bugis attacked once more, was Malay support against the
Dutch forthcoming.
All these permutations of the Dutch presence can be seen in Java after
1680. Though Trunajaya was killed, rebellions against the centre con-
tinued. Amangkurat II was able to maintain his position against the
challenge of his brother mainly because the Dutch were willing to assist
him as the 'legitimate' heir. By doing so they publicly demonstrated that a
king who could not rally sufficient popular support to remain upon the
throne could yet be maintained by VOC armies. The Dutch continued to
shore up their clients through the eighteenth century in the face of
continuing unrest. In 1740 a rebellion initially involving Batavian Chinese
also turned against the dynasty, and again the court appealed to the
Dutch. VOC help, however, had a heavy price. Javanese kings repaid their
debt by progressively ceding the coastal areas of Java to the Dutch. Finally
in 1749 the entire kingdom of Mataram was signed over, and Pakubuwana
II (r. 1726-49) thus became a vassal of the VOC. This new relationship was
effectively symbolized when he was installed by the governor-general with
the Dutch Resident sitting beside him. An influential faction in the court,
however, refused to accept Pakubuwana's authority, and in an effort to
prevent continued strife in the royal family the Dutch in 1755 divided
central Java between Surakarta and Yogyakarta.
The words put into the mouth of Pakubuwana's rival encapsulate the
major problem raised by colonial control:
My lord, it is not fitting.
Are you not aware
that the role of a ruler
carries the obligation to reign only?64
What the VOC wanted was kings and officials who would actually carry
out instructions given to them, and would act as executors of the Com-
pany's desires. Seduced by titles and emoluments, threatened with exile or
dethronement, or simply browbeaten, the indigenous elite became the
means by which colonial authority was maintained. To some extent this
pressure was felt wherever the Dutch signed a commercial contract, but in
some areas the effects were more disruptive than others. In eastern
Indonesia, for example, strenuous efforts were made not only to enforce
a trading monopoly but also to compel production of particular spices.
A great programme of 'extirpation' was set in place, whereby in return for
regular payments to a number of kings the VOC acquired the right to
64
M. C. Ricklefs, Jogjakarta under Sultan Mangkubumi 1749-1792. A History of the Division ofJava,
London, 1974, 41.

452 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
destroy clove trees on all islands except Ambon and other areas under
their control. The VOC requirements for manpower for such expeditions,
the infamous hongitochten, naturally aroused bitter resentment among local
people and placed heavy strains on the loose relationships which had
traditionally existed between the Maluku region and culturally separate
groups like the Papuans. The same pattern can be traced in Sumatra.
When pepper prices fell and people moved to grow cotton instead, the
Dutch pressed those kings bound to them by treaty to order the 'extirpatie'
of all cotton bushes. Inevitably kings and local chiefs who agreed to carry
out Dutch policies came to be seen as harsh and punitive.
Not surprisingly, it was the peasants of Java and the Philippines who felt
the effects of European demands most keenly. In both places villagers
were required to grow certain crops and to sell them to the Dutch or
Spanish at set prices. A major source of resentment was the labour
requirements, which often meant long absences from home and for which
minimal compensation, if any, was made. Understandably, resentment
was often directed at those seen to be the agents of extortion. In 1726 a
Priangan regent was killed by one of his subjects because the price the
latter now received for his coffee was so low that he despaired of ever
climbing out of debt. The point was, of course, that it was the Dutch who
had reduced the amount paid for coffee; the regent was simply passing the
reduction on.
In the Philippines the original granting of encomiendas (the right to collect
tribute) to individual Spaniards had been deemed a failure by the mid-
seventeenth century so that by 1721 virtually all had reverted to the
Crown. Nonetheless, many of the abuses which had led to criticism of
the private encomienda persisted. The Spanish administration, constantly in
need of funds, leant heavily on Filipinos to supply labour and finance for
their national endeavours. In theory workers were supposed to be paid,
but this was rare; they were usually supported by stipends of rice from
their own villages. Despite government attempts at reform, Filipinos were
often drafted for private rather than state labour, or sent to work at places
far removed from their village. Still in the 1770s people were fleeing in
Samar from the exactions of a governor who asked them to build boats
and fortifications without providing adequate rations or time to tend
their fields.
Another Filipino grievance was the requirement that certain products
be sold to the government, often below the market price, to which was
added the collection of tribute and numerous other taxes. The division of
the Philippines into parishes administered by religious orders increased
the burden carried by ordinary Filipinos, who also supported the clergy by
contributing to their stipends and by supplying food and labour. Indeed,
the Church often made a healthy profit by selling goods received as alms.
In 1704 the sanctorum tax to defray the costs of administering the sacra-
ments was imposed over all Spanish-controlled territory. Faced by this
array of exactions, the hill people in some areas spoke of an evil spirit
called Tributo that roamed around the mission towns and ate people up.65
<« William Scott, Cracks in the Parchment Curtain, Quezon City, 1982, 36.

It was the Spanish-supported elites who were the key to the successful
working of this system. Christianized native barangay leaders, the datu of
pre-Spanish times, had been incorporated into the colonial administrative
structure and given the title cabeza, or head. Members of this largely
hereditary elite, termed generally the principales, took turns in filling the
position of municipal 'little governor' (gobernadorcillo), the highest native
official in the Spanish bureaucracy. In return for new titles, enhanced
status, and privileges, the principalia class was expected to help organize
labour services and taxation payments. In the process, however, they had
to take on the role of buffers between the Spanish regime and the Filipino
peasant, and to work closely with the friars in maintaining order; a priest
in Samar reported that when a man had failed to come to Mass, 'I sent the
Datus to whip him'. 66 The ambiguity of the principalia relationship with
ordinary Filipinos is particularly evident in the numerous rebellions which
broke out against Spanish rule. Sometimes they took on the role of
spokesmen for discontented peasants; principales, for instance, led a revolt
in 1745 which protested against the encroachment of friar estates into
peasant land. On the other hand, local elites could be seen as an extension
of Spanish government. Diego Silang, who led the uprising of 1762 which
followed the British capture of Manila, though himself of principalia stock,
was opposed to a group whom he saw as the instruments of oppression.
Over a hundred participants in the Diego Silang rebellion were hanged,
while others were flogged or imprisoned. Their fate points to a prime
reason for the Spanish domination of the Philippines and the successful
Dutch manipulation of local politics—the effective and frightening use of
force. The inability of the Spanish to subdue the Muslim south is clear
evidence that European-led troops were by no means invincible, but their
successes remained impressive. It is useful to remember that in Java
between 1680 and 1740 the VOC suffered only three defeats, and it had
been the hope of harnessing this force which had led many Southeast
Asians to seek a greater association with the Europeans. In the Babad Tanah
Jawi a pretender to the throne is thus advised to call on the Dutch, whose
military skills are available in exchange for 'a few promises'. But those who
attempted to render Europeans amenable to their wishes were to find that
it was like 'riding a tiger'. By their intrusion into the region, Europeans had
fundamentally altered the manner in which its history was to develop. Yet
in the process they unwittingly provided the basis for the growth of a
shared frustration which was ultimately to bring together groups which
might otherwise be divided by language or culture or traditional rivalries.
As early as 1577, a Filipino had called out to an attacking band of
Spaniards, 'What have we done to you, or what did our ancestors owe
yours, that you should come to plunder us?' Nearly two hundred years
later the same anger was expressed by a group of Demak peasants who
pulled a Dutch envoy off his horse, shouting, 'Stop, you Dutch dog, now
you will be our porter!'67
66
Cruikshank, Samar, 37.
67
Scott, Cracks in the Parchment Curtain, 20; Luc W. Nagtegaal, 'The Dutch East India Company
and the relations between Kartasura and the Javanese northcoast c. 1680-1740', in J. van
Goor, ed., Trading Companies in Asia 1600-1830, Utrecht, 1986, 76. The image of the tiger is
taken from the title of Dr Nagtegaal's thesis, 'Rijden op een Hollandse Tijger'.

454 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
CONCLUSION
While there are identifiable continuities between the sixteenth and eight-
eenth centuries, a survey of the period also suggests that significant
changes were under way. In the first place, there had been a marked trend
towards a greater centralization of authority, particularly among the main-
land states. A combination of prosperity, administrative reform, and
control of labour had enabled a number of centres to confirm their
ascendancy over their neighbours, so that by the eighteenth century the
typical Southeast Asian state was not so much a confederation of nearly
equal communities as a hierarchically organized polity where the com-
ponent parts paid some kind of allegiance to a dominant centre. An
important aspect of the expansion of political authority was the creation of
a 'capital culture'. Distinctive features of dress, language and custom
which had once been key aspects in a community's separate identity now
came to be seen as variations of the dominant culture which emanated
from the political centre. Even in Burma, where ethnic differences were
more pronounced, the resurgence of the Konbaung dynasty was based at
least in part on a wide acceptance of Burman hegemony and Burman
cultural values. Though some borders were to see adjustment in later
years, in essence the political bases of contemporary Thailand, Burma,
Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos had already been laid down.
In the island world the process of centralization was not nearly so
apparent, facing as it did formidable obstacles of geography and wide
cultural variation. The peoples of the Philippines still thought of them-
selves very much as 'Cebuanos' or 'Tagalogs', and to these localized
loyalties was added the deeper divide between the Christianized north
and centre and the Muslim south. Nonetheless, significant changes had
taken place. The Spanish administration had helped to impose a degree of
political uniformity, blurring some of the regional differences existing
before the conquest, and their emphasis on the development of Manila
gave it a pre-eminence which has survived to the present day. Nor is it
difficult to point to features of the Malay-Indonesian archipelago which
were to be of critical importance in the creation of contemporary nation-
states. The trading network which had long served to link areas as distant
as Timor and Melaka was not broken, despite VOC efforts, while the
Dutch dependence on Malay as a medium of communication reinforced its
position of lingua franca, and promoted its use in places where it had
previously been little heard. At the same time the dominance of Java had
been enhanced by the concentration of Dutch interests in Batavia, contrib-
uting to a polarity between Java and the outer islands that has continued
into modern times.
Despite a foreshadowing of later developments, however, the eighteenth-
century island world appears far more culturally and politically fragmented
than does the mainland. In Vietnam, Siam and Burma the impulse towards
centralization was so strong that within a generation all had recovered
from the fragmentation of the eighteenth century. In the archipelago, on
the other hand, even the most potentially cohesive region, Java, was by

1755 divided into distinct spheres. These differences between island and
mainland are reflected in the historiography of Southeast Asia. By the
seventeenth century the perception of a 'country' had enabled outsiders
visiting mainland states to produce books such as de la Loubere's Descrip-
tion of the Kingdom of Siam, and the History of the Kingdom of Tonkin by
Alexander of Rhodes. The concept of a 'national' history was also develop-
ing among indigenous scholars. The first history of Dai Viet had been
written under the Tran in 1272; seventeenth-century Thai texts began to
divorce Ayutthaya's history from that of Buddhism; in Burma U Kala in
1711 produced an encyclopaedic work aimed at providing a complete
account of his country's past. It is rare, however, for chronicles in the
island world to look beyond a dynasty or a specific cultural group, and
modern scholars still grapple with the problem of writing a broader history
that is not biased in favour of one area. While it has proved quite possible
to reconstruct the collective past of a particular societies—Pampangans,
Javanese, Malays, Toasug—the great difficulty has been to synthesize
regional studies on to a larger canvas, particularly given the lack of
documents from so many areas. Yet it is important to continue to examine
not merely the contrasts but the shared features which ultimately enabled
political unities to be created from immense diversity. Only this wider
view can assist in the reconstruction of a regional history in which all
Southeast Asians are seen as true participants.
BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAY
Thailand and Laos

David K. Wyatt's Thailand. A Short History, New Haven and London, 1982,
is a detailed study by a leading scholar containing material unavailable
elsewhere. It is also the only complete analysis in English of Lao history in
this period, and contains a helpful guide for further reading. Wyatt lists
a number of contemporary European accounts, but of these the most
valuable is probably Simon de la Loubere, The Kingdom of Siam, ed.
D. K. Wyatt, Kuala Lumpur, 1969. Lorraine M. Gesick, 'Kingship and
Political Integration in Traditional Siam, 1767-1824', Ph.D. thesis, Cornell
University, 1976, discusses the question of tributary relations. A view of
Siam from one of its Malay vassals is Hikayat Patani: The Story ofPatani, ed.
A. Teeuw and David K. Wyatt, The Hague, 1970. A seventeenth-century
history of Siam based on Thai sources is Jeremias van Vliet, The Short
History of the Kings of Siam, trans. Leonard Andaya, Bangkok, 1975.
Burma
Burma remains one of the Southeast Asian countries least researched by
modern Western scholars, but an important interpretation of the pre-
nineteenth-century period has come with the publication of Victor B.
Lieberman, Burmese Administrative Cycles. Anarchy and Conquest, c. 1580-
1760, Princeton, 1984. Although this has superseded all other accounts,

456 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
G. E. Harvey's History of Burma, London, 1925, can still be read because it

so clearly reflects a chronicle viewpoint. The first three volumes of Than
Tun's translation of the Royal Orders of Burma, AD 1598-1885, Kyoto,
Center for Southeast Asian Studies, 1983-8, provide an invaluable source
for the preoccupations of the Burmese court.
Cambodia
Available sources for Cambodian history between the sixteenth and eight-
eenth century are not numerous, but a good survey is David Chandler,
A History of Cambodia, Boulder, 1983.
Vietnam
Vietnam between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries has not attracted
much attention among Western scholars. Charles Maybon's Histoire
Moderne du Pays d'Annam (1592-1820), Paris, 1920, is now very dated;
Thomas Hodgkin, Vietnam. The Revolutionary Path, London, 1981, has a
clear Marxist standpoint but nonetheless presents a sympathetic and
readable account of this period. A study by Keith W. Taylor, The literati
revival in seventeenth century Vietnam', JSEAS, 18, 1 (March 1987), looks
at changes in the bureaucracy. Alexander of Rhodes' account of missionary
work has been translated by Solange Hertz as Rhodes of Vietnam, Westmin-
ster, Maryland, 1966. The eighteenth century is discussed in Dang Phuong
Nghi, Les institutions publiques du Vietnam au XVIIIe siecle, Paris, 1909. Insun
Yu, 'Law and Family in Seventeenth and Eighteenth Century Vietnam',
Ph.D. thesis, University of Michigan, 1978, contains valuable material not
found elsewhere, while Gerald C. Hickey, Sons of the Mountains: Ethnohis-
tory of the Vietnamese Central Highlands to 1954, New Haven, 1982, provides
a view of the centre from the 'underside'.
The Philippines
The Spanish move into the Philippines is covered in the still valuable work
by John L. Phelan, The Hispanization of the Philippines: Spanish Aims and
Filipino Responses 1565-1700, Madison, 1959, which can be read together
with Nicholas P. Cushner, Spain in the Philippines: From Conquest to Revolu-
tion, Quezon City: Institute of Philippine Culture, 1970. More stress on the
Filipino reaction is given in Eric A. Anderson, 'Traditions in Conflict.
Filipino Responses and Spanish Colonialism, 1565-1665', Ph.D. thesis,
University of Sydney, 1977. Sources dealing with religious history are
given in the bibliographic essay for Chapter 9, but H. de la Costa, The
Jesuits in the Philippines 1581-1768, Cambridge, Mass., 1961, includes
considerable information on political developments. The Philippines is
also well served in the translation of contemporary documents, notably by
E. H. Blair and J. A. Robertson, The Philippine Islands 1493-1898, 55 vols,
Cleveland, 1903-9. While there is no recent synthesis of pre-nineteenth-
century Philippine history, a number of local studies have appeared: Angel

Martinez Cuesta, History ofNegros, Manila, 1980; Rosario Mendoza Cortes,

Pangasinan 1572-1800, Quezon City, 1974; Bruce Cruikshank, Satnar 1768-
1898, Manila, 1985; Bruce L. Fenner, 'Colonial Cebu: an Economic-Social
History, 1521-1896', Ph.D. thesis, Cornell University, 1976; John Larkin,
The Pampangans: Colonial Society in a Philippine Province, London, 1972; Ana
Maria Madrigal, A Blending of Cultures: the Butanes, 1686-1898, Manila,
1983. Cesar A. Majul, Muslims in the Philippines, Quezon City, 1973, is a full
account of Spain's dealings with the Muslims of the south. Dennis Roth,
'The Friar Estates of the Philippines', Ph.D. thesis, University of Oregon,
1974, and David Routledge, Diego Silang and the Origins of Philippine
Nationalism, Quezon City: Philippine Center for Advanced Studies, 1979,
provide the background to major peasant uprisings in the eighteenth
century.
Borneo, Sumatra and the Malay World

The most detailed study of Brunei is Donald E. Brown, Brunei: The Structure
and History of a Borneon Malay Sultanate, Monograph of the Brunei Museum
Journal, 2, 2 (1970). Robert Nicholl, European Sources for the History of the
Sultanate of Brunei in the Sixteenth Century, Brunei, Brunei Museum, 1975, is
a collection of translated Spanish and Portuguese documents, while John
Carroll, 'Berunai in the Boxer Codex', JMBRAS, 55, 2 (1982), is a most
interesting late-sixteenth-century Spanish description of the Brunei court,
and Amin Sweeney, ed., 'Silsilah raja-raja Berunai', JMBRAS, 41, 2 (1968),
is a genealogical history of its kings.
A survey of Malay history is contained in Barbara Watson Andaya and
Leonard Y. Andaya, A History of Malaysia, London, 1982. Detailed studies
of particular states are Leonard Y. Andaya, The Kingdom of ]ohor, 1641-
1728, Kuala Lumpur, 1975; Barbara Watson Andaya, Perak, The Abode of
Grace: A Study of an Eighteenth Century Malay State, Kuala Lumpur, 1975;
R. Bonney, Kedah, 1771-1821: The Search for Security and Independence, Kuala
Lumpur, 1971. Few of the relevant Malay court chronicles relating to this
period have been translated into English. C. C. Brown, 'Sejarah Melayu or
Malay Annals', JMBRAS, 25, 2 and 3 (1952), an account of Melaka up to the
early sixteenth century, remains essential reading for anyone interested in
understanding Malay culture. A wider study written by a descendant of
one of the Bugis migrants to Johor is Raja Ali Haji, Tuhfat al-Nafis (The
Precious Gift), Kuala Lumpur, Oxford University Press, 1982 which has
been edited and translated by Virginia Matheson and Barbara Watson
Andaya.
The most complete study of early seventeenth-century Aceh is Denys
Lombard, Le Sultanat d'Atjeh au Temps d'lskandar Muda 1607-1636, Paris,
1967. JSEAS, 10, 3 (Dec. 1969) contains several relevant articles relating to
the seventeenth century. For an overview, see J. Kathirithamby-Wells,
'Forces of regional and state integration in the western archipelago,
c. 1500-1700', JSEAS, 18, 1 (March 1987). Jane Drakard, A Malay Frontier.
Unity and Duality in a Sumatran Kingdom, Ithaca: Cornell University South-
east Asia Program, 1990, looks at the previously little researched area of
Barus. Christine Dobbin, Islamic Revivalism in a Changing Peasant Economy.

458 FROM c. 1500 TO c. 1800
Central Sumatra 1784-1847, London and Malmo: Scandinavian Institute of

Asian Studies, 1983, is a finely crafted study of Minangkabau society
during the eighteenth and early nineteenth century. J. Kathirithamby-
Wells, The British West Sumatran Presidency (1760-85): Problems of Early
Colonial Enterprise, Kuala Lumpur, 1970, considers the situation on the
west coast. The best contemporary account of Sumatra, focused on the
west coast, is William Marsden, A History of Sumatra, reprinted Kuala
Lumpur, 1966.
Java
The material for Java is considerable, but has been covered in detail in
M. C. Ricklefs, A History of Modern Indonesia, London, 1981. He has drawn
from his own research, notably Jogjakarta under Sultan Mangkubumi 1749-
1792, London, 1974, and Modern Javanese Historical Traditions, London,
1978, the latter being a translation of a Surakarta chronicle. Earlier work by
Dutch scholars has also provided indispensable material for the recon-
struction of Java's history. H. J. de Graaf and Th. G. Pigeaud, De Eerst
Moslimse Vorstendommen op Java. Studien over de Staatkundig Geschiedenis van
de 15e en 16e eeuw, The Hague, 1974, is a detailed compilation of all that
is known about the northern coastal ports. This should be followed by
H. J. de Graaf's important studies—De Regering van Panembahan Senapati
Ingalaga, The Hague, 1954; De Regering van Sultan Agong, vorst van Mataram
1613-1645, en die van zijn Voorganger Panembahan Seda-ing-Krapjak, 1601-
1613, The Hague, 1958; De Regering van Sunan Mangku Rat I Tegal Wangi,
Vorst van Mataram, 1646-1677, 2 vols, The Hague, 1961-2; De VijfGezants-
chapreizen van Ryklof van Goens naar het hof van Mataram 1648-1654, The
Hague, 1956, which is a valuable account of Mataram by a VOC envoy.
B. J. O. Schrieke, Indonesian Sociological Studies, 2 vols, The Hague, 1957,
touches on a number of important themes in Javanese history which
remain to be developed, while Somersaid Moertono examines the nature
of Javanese kingship in his State and Statecraft in Old Java: a Study of the Later
Mataram Period, Sixteenth to Nineteenth Century, Ithaca: Cornell University
Southeast Asia Program, 1968. Luc Nagtegaal, 'Rijden op een Hollandse
Tijger. De Noordkust van Java en de V.O.C. 1680-1743', Ph.D. thesis,
Utrecht University, 1988, examines the relations between the centre and
the coast and the way political relationships in Java were affected by the
growing Dutch presence.
Eastern Indonesia
The secondary sources for eastern Indonesia are limited. Leonard Y.
Andaya, The Heritage of Arung Palakka: A History of Southwest Sulawesi
(Celebes) in the Seventeenth Century, The Hague, 1981, brings together
material relating to Bugis-Makassar history and its implications for the rest
of the region. James Fox, Harvest of the Palm. Ecological Change in Eastern
Indonesia, Cambridge, Mass., 1977, is an anthropological study focusing on

Roti and Savu, but makes frequent use of VOC sources, as does another
anthropologist, Ch.F. van Fraassen, 'Ternate, de Molukken en de Indones-
ische Archipel', Ph.D. thesis, University of Leiden, 1987. An interesting
Portuguese account by Antonio Galvao dating from the mid-sixteenth
century has been translated by Hubert Th. M. Jacobs as A Treatise on the
Moluccas (c. 1544), Rome: Jesuit Historical Institute, 1971. Willard Hanna,
Indonesian Banda. Colonialism and its Aftermath in the Nutmeg Islands,
Philadelphia: Institute for the Study of Human Issues, 1978, is a readable
account of the Dutch assumption of control in Banda, while Gerrit Knaap,
'Kruidnagelen en Christenen. De Verenigde Oost Indische Compagnie en
de Bevolking van Ambon 1656-1696', Ph.D. thesis, Utrecht University,
1985, examines the way in which the Dutch governed Ambon.

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CHAPTER

THE POLITICAL LANDSCAPE

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European commentators. Marco Polo saw north Sumatra as a place where

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Map 7.1 Mainland Southeast Asia, 1500-1800.

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Map 7.2 Island Southeast Asia, 1500-1800.

old ceremony was still practised at Ba Phnom in Cambodia whereby a

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not easily be inherited or transferred. The typical Southeast Asian 'kingdom'

SOUTHEAST ASIA DURING THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

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increased traffic, and a desire for greater participation in seaborne trade

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of Ayutthaya would undergo the 'most severe trials' to acquire as many

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The implications of this statement are well illustrated in an examination

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reluctant vassals. In a climate where military organization was receiving

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exceptional was the extension of his overlordship hundreds of kilometres

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increasing reliance on force in order to maintain what were in essence

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THE CYCLE OF FRAGMENTATION AND UNITY

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off by opposing armies to be sold as slaves in distant lands or to increase

How monstrous are the great rats

» Chandler, History of Cambodia, 86.

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the VOC governor-general, Jan Pieterszoon Coen, forcibly seized control

THE CENTRES OF POWER IN THE

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more sedentary, they are much easier to tie to a central authority. In

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A RENEWAL OF THE MOVEMENT TOWARDS

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They began to make cannon . . .

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KINGSHIP AND CENTRALIZATION IN THE

The death of these lords, killed by their king, points to a continuing

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« Chandler, A History of Cambodia, 82.

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