Southeast Asia’s megacities, long viewed as symbols of progress, are facing crises ranging from floods and ecological damage to displacement and widening inequality. Scholars of contemporary urban politics often attribute these predicaments to rapid globalization that originated in the mid-1980s. Yet APARC Visiting Scholar Gavin Shatkin argues they must be understood in the context of the Cold War era, when urban development agendas were molded by authoritarian regimes exerting political and economic control in the name of anti-communism.

Shatkin, an urban planner specializing in the political economy of urbanization and urban policy and planning in Southeast Asia, is a professor of public policy and architecture at Northeastern University. He recently completed his residency at APARC as a Lee Kong Chian National University of Singapore-Stanford fellow on Southeast Asia. Before heading to Singapore for the second part of his fellowship, he presented research from his new book project, which examines how U.S.-supported authoritarian regimes in Indonesia, the Philippines, and Thailand shaped urban politics in three megalopolises —Jakarta, Bangkok, and Metro Manila — during the 1960s and 1970s, with consequences that reverberate today.

Political Violence as Foundation

Shatkin refers to the period from the mid-1960s to the mid-1970s as Southeast Asia's "hot Cold War." During that time, in tandem with the armed conflict in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia, political violence spread through Indonesia, the Philippines, and Thailand, as the three countries witnessed the emergence of authoritarian regimes that cemented their rule by manipulating laws and institutions and deploying targeted, often extreme violence justified as necessary to combat communism.

In Indonesia, a U.S.-backed 1965 military coup, directed particularly at the Communist Party of Indonesia, led to the massacre of 500,000 to one million people, heralding General Suharto's 32-year authoritarian rule.

In the Philippines, amid leftist demonstrations and a communist insurgency, President Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law in 1972, marking the beginning of a decade defined by his administration’s widespread human rights violations, throughout which the United States continued to provide foreign aid to the country, considering Marcos a steadfast anti-communist ally.

And in Thailand, the imposition of the 1958 military dictatorship to counter communist threats and the 1976 crackdown by Thai police and right-wing paramilitaries against leftist protesters were pivotal points in establishing a royalist-nationalist model that defined "Thainess" (khwam pen thai) through loyalty to the monarchy, aligned with military power as well as American military aid and counter-insurgency policy guidance.

According to Shatkin, these were not isolated incidents but defining episodes of political violence that cemented authoritative oligarchic control over urban development. The explosive urbanization in Southeast Asian cities that followed in the mid-1980s must be read through the lens of this earlier period, when authoritarian regimes sought to exploit urban transformation to entrench political and economic power.

Oligarchic Politics

The Suharto regime's approach to Jakarta as a source of profit exemplifies this dynamic. Shatkin explains how, between 1985 and 1998, Indonesia's National Land Agency distributed land permits for extensive urban development across the Jakarta metropolitan region to a small network of oligarchic conglomerates, such as the Salim Group. These crony corporations, allied with Suharto through family ties and political patronage, came to dominate Indonesia’s economy. Many of these same corporate interests continue to influence development agendas in Jakarta today, owning exclusive rights to purchase and develop permitted land.

The same pattern of successive waves of government expansion of metropolitan regions through infrastructure development and the distribution of land to selected major conglomerates has repeated itself in Manila and Bangkok, creating in-country profit centers for economic interests and what Shatkin calls “an archipelago of exclusive gated elite spaces” that reinforces spatial dichotomy and segregation as each of these megacities also experiences a housing crisis.

For example, Shatkin’s research in Metro Manila during the late 1990s and early 2000s revealed that approximately 40% of the population lived in dense informal settlements. A significant portion of these residents were employed in the nearby container port, yet their wages were insufficient to afford legal housing near their workplace. This discrepancy highlights a structural dilemma where low-wage workers are effectively compelled to occupy land illegally.

Environmental crises in the three urban giants are also entrenched in political and social structures rooted in oligarchic and authoritarian legacies of the Cold War era, argues Shatkin. Thus, increasingly devastating floods in Jakarta, Metro Manila, and Bangkok have less to do with sea level rise and far more with the rapid spread of impervious surfaces and the extraction of groundwater resulting from uncontrolled urban sprawl on converted watershed lands within a relatively weak regulatory environment. Moreover, flooding mitigation solutions, like Indonesia’s Great Garuda seawall project, have perpetuated the same pattern of land giveaways to major developers.

Lessons from Urban Social Movements

Crucially, Shatkin's research shows that Southeast Asian urban activists themselves frame their struggles through the lens of Cold War legacies. For example, when Jakarta residents along the Ciliwung River faced eviction for flood mitigation in 2015, they challenged the Jakarta administration and the Ciliwung-Cisadane Flood Control Office in court, arguing the eviction was based on a Cold War-era law drafted during counterinsurgency operations that had no place in democratic Indonesia. They partially won the case.

In a similar vein, Thailand's Red Shirt movement, representing working-class people from the northeast, deliberately protested on land owned by the Crown Property Bureau, using iconography that critiqued the military-monarchy-elite alliance forged during the Cold War.

An example from Manila is the 2001 mass protests by urban, low-income groups in defense of President Joseph Estrada, who was impeached for corruption. Their support can be interpreted as a reaction against “anti-poor” discourse that originated in the Ferdinand Marcos era. For the urban poor, Estrada represented a powerful counterweight to this legacy of elite disdain.

"We need to listen to these protest movements on the ground,” says Shatkin. They do not primarily critique globalization but rather contest entrenched oligarchy and state paternalism forged by Cold War political violence. Thus, an alternative framework for understanding debates in urban politics of Jakarta, Manila, and Bangkok is to view them not merely as capitals shaped by globalization but as Cold War frontline sites.

Beyond Southeast Asia

The implications of Shatkin’s theoretical framework extend beyond Jakarta, Metro Manila, and Bangkok, and even beyond Southeast Asia. It illuminates how periods of political upheaval create enduring social, economic, and environmental inequalities.

Moreover, these three urban giants, which produce outsized shares of their nations' GDP, rank among the world's largest cities. Their futures will not only affect Southeast Asia but also global urban development patterns. Shatkin's work suggests that this future cannot be charted without reckoning with the past.

Motivation & Contribution

The Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement has sparked a domestic and global reckoning about racial injustice, especially with respect to police brutality. BLM mass protests — in particular, the misperception that these protests tend to be violent — have polarized much of American society, spawning pro-police countermovements like Blue Lives Matter. How can we understand the sources of public support for or opposition to racial justice movements like BLM? 

One suggestion is to look at the tactics used by protesters themselves, with the implication that more “disruptive” or “radical” tactics — for example, blocking highways as opposed to holding silent vigils — are key in determining how the public perceives BLM. In “How Police Behavior Shapes Perceptions of Protests,” Jasmine English, Ariel White, and Laurel Eckhouse provide evidence for a different answer: police tactics — in particular, whether protests were met with a heavy police presence — better explain why onlookers have perceived BLM protests as violent. After presenting data on the determinants of different police responses to protests, the authors conduct a survey experiment to explore how the presence of police at BLM protests affects public perceptions. 

The article deepens our understanding of the police as political actors who shape how Americans think about social movements. These perceptions are not solely determined by what protesters do or how the media portray them, but by how police respond. Worryingly for racial justice advocates, this means that violent police repression may fail to engender public sympathy for protesters; indeed, the mere presence of police leads onlookers to believe that protests are violent. Conversely, violent protest tactics are unnecessary for the public to perceive protesters as violent. The policy implications of these findings are that heavy police deployments at protests should be clearly justified and documented, given their potential to shape public opinion. 

Data & Findings

The authors assemble a dataset from over 1,000 BLM protests that occurred between 2014 and 2017. This includes details on protest tactics, timing (i.e., whether it was before or after dark), and size, as well as police tactics, including whether police were present, made arrests, or deployed crowd-control measures. The reader learns that BLM protests varied considerably in terms of size and place. So too did police responses vary, even in the face of similar protest messages and tactics. Police were present at nearly ⅔ of BLM protests, while at least one arrest occurred, and crowd control measures were deployed around one-fifth of the time. More generally, police responses ranged from using military gear, police joining in and kneeling with demonstrators, pushing elderly people to the ground, and undercover officers pointing guns at protesters.
 

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Protest Locations in the Contiguous United States
Note: Point sizes are scaled by approximate protest size. 

The authors run a regression analysis where the three dependent variables (DVs) or outcomes of interest are police presence, arrests made, and crowd control. The following independent variables (IVs) are found to be statistically significant in affecting all three DVs: highway blockages, protests occurring after dark, disruptive tactics (e.g., protesters changing themselves to objects), and large protests (i.e., over 1000 participants). However, the low predictive value of these IVs (also known as their R²) means the authors must find another way to understand how protests, police responses, and mass perceptions are linked in a causal way.
 

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Table 1: Protest Characteristics and Police Response

Survey Experiment

The authors then conduct a survey experiment to test the following two hypotheses: H1: protests with a heavy police presence are more likely to be perceived by respondents as violent. H2: protests with a heavy police presence will yield less support for the overall movement from respondents. Over 2700 people participated in the experiment, which entailed respondents receiving two different “treatments”: one group read a “vignette” about a peaceful BLM protest, while the other read about a peaceful protest with a large police deployment. In other words, the only difference is whether police were present.
 

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Figure 2: News Article Vignette

H1 is measured by asking respondents how much they agree or disagree — on a five-point “Likert” scale ranging from “strongly disagree” to “strongly agree” — with statements such as “the event was violent” or “protesters had violent intentions.” Similarly, H2 is measured by how much respondents agree with statements such as “I’d consider becoming involved in the protest,” “I support the protesters,” or “I’d post something positive about the protests on social media.” 

The authors find positive support for H1 but null support for H2. In other words, respondents who receive the treatment about police presence are more likely to view the protesters as violent, but this does not translate into reduced support for the movement. Their explanation for the null finding is as follows: “support” is a more medium- or long-term attitude, shaped by repeated “exposure” to protests over time. As such, a single exposure — in the form of reading a vignette — is unlikely to shift respondents’ support. By contrast, “believing something is violent” may be more easily shaped by a single exposure. Finally, the authors present exploratory (i.e., non-preregistered) data showing that the effects for white respondents in H1 are higher.
 

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Figure 5: Effects of Heavy Police Presence on Violence Perception

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Figure 6: Effects of Police Presence on Support for BLM Protesters

Ultimately, the article shows how police behavior, more than protester tactics, can shape public perceptions of social justice movements like BLM. These findings invite a reevaluation of important mass movements across American history — such as the Civil Rights Movement — where police responses played a pivotal role. A heavy police presence at otherwise peaceful protests can distort how the American public perceives constitutionally protected behavior, potentially undermining the accuracy that is necessary for democratic participation.

*Research-in-Brief prepared by Adam Fefer.

Strategies for Release

Lilian Tintori, an internationally recognized human rights advocate and the wife of former political prisoner Leopoldo López (the 2022 Robert G. Wesson Lecturer in International Relations Theory and Practice at the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies), spoke candidly about her seven-year struggle to secure her husband’s release. “It is not easy,” she stated, “You become the voice of the political prisoner. You can’t talk, you have to scream in every crevice, every place, every moment you get.” 

Tintori argues that the most important aspect for release is a community of resilience, which is to provide mental health and emotional support to political prisoners’ families, as they cannot act as the voice if they feel broken themselves. At the heart of this strength, she argued, is love. In her efforts, she now distributes the Pathway to Freedom handbook, produced through her organization, the World Liberty Congress, to help families navigate the grueling road to release.

“Torture only occurs because the Maduro regime knows we are the majority,” Tintori clarified. Since the beginning of 2025, five political prisoners in Venezuela have died in custody. Tintori emphasized the importance of protecting the life of the person being detained — the human being behind the titles of activist, mayor, or opposition leader, beyond a simple number. To raise awareness about political prisoners alike, Tintori often employs the strategy of always mentioning “other political prisoners” after their loved ones’ names. This keeps the broader community of victims in public consciousness.

With international and local channels to plead for help closing, such as the EU or historically, the U.S., all three panelists stressed that silence is not an option for all communities — including academic spheres — and the broader public. Tintori testified that after public pressure, the regimes do pay attention and often send proof of life to suppress further outrage, hence helping to protect prisoners until their release.

Ways to Support A Political Prisoner 

Having been a political prisoner himself after co-founding the April 6th Youth Movement in Egypt, Waleed Shawky recounted what he believed carried him through his time behind bars — the cause he fought for. Upholding the values and vision that led to their arrest, he argued, can provide hope and dignity in the most inhumane conditions. “Being a victim is a choice as a prisoner, because you can choose to be a survivor,” Shawky asserted, “It is important to remind them of the bigger picture.” 

Echoing Tintori’s previous statements, Shawky praised the courage of the families, particularly women, who visit and support prisoners, often at great personal risk. He also warned against idolizing or victimizing political prisoners. “They’re human,” he emphasized. “Don’t cry in front of them. Be strong; they need your strength.”

Authoritarian Crackdowns and Resistance

Gulika Reddy highlighted the challenges advocates operating in authoritarian contexts face and how they navigate these challenges. She broke it down into three different categories: movements, organizations, and individuals.

• Movements are often delegitimized and co-opted. Reddy stressed the importance of engaging in grounded movement building, offering counter-narratives to sustain public trust, and fostering solidarity and collective action.

• At the organizational level, regimes may block formal registration, restrict funding, and launch physical or digital attacks — including office raids and data seizures. To survive these assaults, organizations can diversify financial models, invest in digital security, and cultivate collective care to mitigate burnout and trauma. Additionally, there is a need to adopt diverse theories of change in contexts where traditional human rights tactics prove ineffective.

• For individuals, threats include intimidation and retaliation, which can also extend to their loved ones. Reddy recommended conducting risk assessments and creating mitigation and response plans, including access to free legal aid and safe housing.

What we learned from our speakers is clear: authoritarianism thrives on silence, but freedom depends on our voices. For political prisoners around the world, solidarity, resilience, and an unwavering defense of human dignity are not just ideals; they are lifelines that can bring them home.