Reflections: Yogyakarta, Indonesia — 13.Sept.2023

Thanks to support from the University of Washington’s Center for Southeast Asia and its Diasporas, I finally paid a visit to a place I have long read about and dreamed of: Yogyakarta!

UCR colleague Muhamad Ali and his lovely wife Dila helped me network via their family in Jogja who introduced me to the amazing Kemuning A. Adiputri, who worked with me for a few days as expert guide not only familiar with historic sites around Yogyakarta but actively involved with Stuppa Indonesia, a planning and development firm in Jogja, and the Center for Heritage Conservation (CHC) at Gadjah Mada University. Kemuning recently finished her M.Sc. in Historic Preservation from Columbia University, so I was not just lucky to have a great interpreter but really lucky to meet a future leader in Indonesia’s heritage conservation community!

My main purpose in the Jogja trip was relatively simple: to visit and experience firsthand sites I have long lectured on in my Early SE Asia survey course and to photograph them for a textbook I am writing for Cambridge Press titled An Environmental History of SE Asia. Besides visiting Jogja I made trips to the world’s largest Buddhist monument, Borubudur built in the 9th century CE, and the Hindu temples at Prambanan, also 9th century. We had the great good fortune to see Borubudur on a clear day with full views of the eight mountains surrounding the monument on all sides.

The artistry in the bas-relief carvings along the walls of both monuments is incredible. Here is a detail of three women standing in front of what looks to be a mango tree.

Both Borubudur and Prambanan are built from andesite, a blue-gray volcanic rock. This produced a striking, dark temple which absorbs more heat and which I imagine was likely painted when the temple was in use. Here’s a detail along an outer wall of a monkey with an ox and some mango trees in the background.

Here are some views at Prambanan.

My general interest in both public and scholarly research these days follows from an intro I wrote to a special issue with the Journal of SE Asian Studies three years ago: “The Greening of SE Asian History.” For so long, SE Asia’s history has been defined by issues of state formation and ethnonational heritage-making, what Ben Anderson provocatively termed the making of “imagined communities.” This “national idea” has been vital to different publics in Southeast Asia since the end of colonial rule and the start of decolonization in 1945, but with greater economic integration and global problems like climate change, I think we’re at a turning point for historians, what historian John Smail called an “historiographical crisis” — in SE Asia and the world — where the nation-state project and more recent post-structuralist debates in the academy are giving way to more “diasporic,” trans-regional and even “multi-species” projects exploring new identity-making projects and forging newer historical and analytical framings. SE Asia’s incredible and biodiverse natures, layered cultural landscapes, agro-ecologies – not to mention so many pockets of its endemic, minority or hybrid cultures – are still absent in anglophone histories of the region and marginal in the region’s national museums and vernacular literatures.

This isn’t unique to SE Asia, either — consider the visibility of African Americans or Native Americans in American history books or the decades-long struggles to build a National Museum of African American History on the National Mall – a monumental space largely built in the 19th century by the hands of free and enslaved African Americans.  But the times, they are a changin’… and that’s why I open my intro essay with these lines from Bob Dylan:

Hey, hey Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song

‘Bout a funny ol’ world that’s a-comin’ along

Seems sick and it’s hungry, it’s tired and it’s torn

It looks like it’s a-dyin’ and it’s hardly been born

(Bob Dylan, ‘Song to Woody’, recorded 20–22 Nov. 1961)

I think the newspapers and end-times people would have us believe we’re at the precipice of a world ending in chaos, but who are we to judge? 🙂 Scientists globally tell us we’re at least on the verge of a new, warmer world with all of the possibilities and problems that will pose. A sixth mass extinction, mass die-offs of coral, losing much of the world’s biomass of insects, possibly a plethora of micro-organisms and algae species we don’t even know yet.  We’re also in the midst of a mass extinction of thousands of endangered languages. But what about history, especially local history and the history of worlds past? Worlds with more biodiverse forests, more languages, and more natural wonders like the giant stinky flower, Rafflesia arnoldii

There are efforts in many parts of the world, in the face of climate change and recent social movements for more inclusive histories, inclusive of different peoples and natures, to articulate new valuations of nature/ecosystem services, and combined bio- and cultural diversity to effect a kind of green ethics. I discuss this in my intro to the special edition. These efforts at “greening history” are dispersed globally and draw from multiple groundings in different ethical and religious traditions. What particular natures or landscapes mean to the human communities that tend them are (and should be) as biodiverse as the diversity of life itself. That…in a (Canarium) nut shell is my general research aim in current and developing projects.

The Jogja trip was mostly for fun, photographing sites for teaching and my current book project, but through conversations with Kemuning and a chance trip to an orchid nursery halfway up Mt Merapi, I stumbled onto two related ideas/questions that might bear research fruit down the way.

Cultural- and Bio-diversity at Yogyakarta’s “Cosmological Axis”

Kemuning shared about one of her current projects – supporting heritage conservation in the historic, sacred center of Yogyakarta, including its famed keraton (royal palace) and the street running north from the palace to the central rail depot. Tourists know this 24-hour, busy shopping street as Malioboro Street, and it is adorned with ornate lamp posts and a mosaic of shopfronts from different eras.

The name Malioboro is a bit of a mystery. Some say that it stuck after “Sir” Thomas Stamford Raffles’ ordered British forces to attack the palace in 1812 and loot its precious objects and documents. Malioboro could be the local pronunciation for the name Marlborough, as in the Duke of Marlborough (who was at the time George Spencer-Churchill, a famed collector of antiquities in the UK who was allegedly deeply in debt.) Or it might have referred to an earlier Marlborough who was a governor and the namesake for a British fort at Bengkulu in Sumatra. Or it might derive from a sankritic term, malya bhara, meaning bearing garlands. Just this year, The Cosmological Axis of Yogyakarta and its Historic Landmarks were listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

It now fits within a class or urban historic districts including the Georgetown District in Penang which I also visited on this trip (a separate Reflection blog will cover that).  As Georgetown-Penang’s Director Ang told me last week, one of the biggest challenges with maintaining an historic district and a buildings-focused approach is attracting new generations of visitors.  The bulk of visitors and community members to these districts are people over 40. No youth!

What some urban districts are doing, and Director Ang is at the forefront, is to place more focus on the living city, arts inside old buildings, new venues for creative expression, and adaptive reuse of old buildings. In New York, there are also efforts to focus on indigenous spaces, place names, plants, and other sites partially buried under concrete. Other conservation projects focus on re-opening creeks from old, concrete storm drains so as to allow migratory birds and other life to return. Seoul is famous for Cheonggyecheon Creek Project, and re-opening it allowed a new shopping district to form along the banks with native and historic trees planted. My hometown of Riverside is similarly planting xeriscape and native sage-scrub in revitalized historic areas with recently restored Japanese American homes, its bid to advance its “arts and culture” mission.

Thinking about these issues in Jogja, two things I noticed immediately were the incredible kampong (alleyway neighborhoods) running off the main streets and the city’s immense banyan trees which are described beautifully by John Ryan in his new work The Mind of Plants!

Here are some shots of one Kampong near the city center at its Tugu Yogya monument:

What’s clear from the many architectural styles, the signs, the placement of art personal and communal with plants and other decor … is that this kampong is well organized by community leadership with strong collective participation in neighborhood life! This is rare in many historic districts where working class people are forced out by high rents and tourist industries and  tourists move in. Just blocks off the tourist corridor on Malioboro Street local neighborhoods are still full of everyday, working-people life with beautifully decorated murals around a thriving elementary school, meaning young people, too. That’s a good sign!

Compare this with other historic districts like downtown Amsterdam and you do not see this to the same degree. The streets and pristine historic buildings there are mostly air bnb’s and homes for the global wealthy or inhabited by elderly people who inherited or bought flats in them long ago when they cost normal prices. New York City just passed an ordinance eliminating 67% of its airbnb’s in an effort to hold on to fast-shrinking, “permanent inhabitant” communities.

In Vietnam where I have worked off and on for thirty years, similar waves of vernacular erasure have taken place as the country’s economy, especially in its old cities, has boomed. Over the years I watched as national and city governments moved quickly to erase all forms of outdated transport like cyclos, graffiti, and “slums.” Old cities like Saigon mushroomed into megacities with a dozen new districts after a long, postwar-induced sleep. Saigon used to be full of scenes like this:

But now, Vietnamese in the urban core who are well off and generally older–average age notching up into the 30s—they have lost this part of the urban fabric of everyday life. They think with nostalgia to the cyclos (pedicabs), the food carts, noodle sellers, and stilt houses from their childhood in the city center.

Bookshops now carry models kids can make of bicycle repair stands, stilt houses, cyclos and noodle shops! But the streets are mostly empty of them.

Malioboro still has plenty of examples of vernacular everyday life and I hope preservationists can find ways to include it along with repurposed mid-century “national” buildings, Javanese traditional construction, etc. as things “develop.”

Back to nature in the city, I am amazed by Jogja’s incredible beringin or banyans.

I think Jogja National Museum’s banyan (nighttime pic) should win the blue ribbon, but there are so many to choose from.

Banyans are planted at sites of worship or reverence, and a quick glance at them shows that the tree is not just a single plant organism but a microcosm! Many other life forms live among it including this swallow (Artamus leucorynchus) and so many epiphytes!

(Image courtesy of Wiki Commons and JJ Harrison)

And here is where I imagined some future effort to present the natural heritage in the urban forest might center around banyans, perhaps even some combined presentation of banyans and some of Java’s most famous epiphytes, its native orchids! The city’s banyans might provide unique sites for education about multi-species plant communities. They could even host orchids in outdoor exhibit spaces. A quick run through Singapore’s Changi airport and it’s commercial-garden “The Jewel” should be enough to convince funders there’s a market for orchid gardens and orchid interpretive sites in heavily trafficked, commercial areas .

Along Malioboro Street, orchids are already part of the urban garden, present on many alleys and front porches.

Clearly people and neighborhood governments love banyans and orchids! Examining their multi-species communities, surveying native and cultivated, imported life, thinking of them as sites for digital or mixed media interpretation would make for a wonderful exhibit. Trees like banyans as urban sites for interpretation can be fixed with digital or QR codes and tied to urban heritage projects.

Orchids attract high-rolling sponsors, too, and hybrid cultivars (like tulips and roses) might be named after VIPs. Recently the Netherlands Queen Maxima visited Gadjah Mada University to attend the announcement of a newly cultivated variety of Mt Merapi’s celebrated species, Vanda tricolor such that it was named Vanda tricolor “Queen Maxima.” If royals are into orchids, there seems a ready source for investment into interpretation.

My hometown, Riverside CA, used an app for school kids and amateur birders to photo and geotag pics to a naturalist website showing sightings of birds. Unfortunately, plants cannot fly, so geotagging them opens up the same problems it does for ancient remains:  poachers! Anyway, there are ways to safeguard locations and still present digital images for a sort of citizen science. And Vanda tricolor is but one of hundreds of Mt. Merapi area species – the one most cultivated by commercial nurseries.

Merapi Orchids

Holding the banyans idea for a sec, let me explain how I stumbled on orchids as one focus for preservation here. Our Day 2 tour to Borobudur was delayed by requirements for timed entry, so we took a detour to Pak Musimin’s orchid conservation nursery on the southern slope of Mt Merapi.

This is a conservation center propagating and re-establishing orchids in Merapi’s forests. Pak Musimin explained how native orchid habitats are under threat from forestry, natural destruction from eruptions and orchid-poaching. For twenty years, he and his wife have worked with Yogya orchid conservation groups to adopt orchids and then, when mature, re-establish them in forest habitats. They even developed a program for city people to adopt them and, once mature, return them to re-establish in the forest.

Mindblowingly cool!!!!! The idea of bringing in an urban community of orchid adopters which builds immediate and deep ties between cityfolk and a specific species and site in the forest. This, I think, is a brilliant strategy for promoting sustainable biodiversity conservation in the city.

On Malioboro Street one could incorporate biodiversity into historic preservation programs. I think the banyans and their human communities might serve as interesting sites for interpretation about native orchids , especially the globally popular (Mt Merapi native) Vanda tricolor.

Species from Southeast Asia Grown by Judy Carney

(image courtesy of Judy Carney)

Perhaps kampong communities connected with banyan trees could participate in orchid adoption, even naming them, and build interpretive panels for visitors on orchid-banyan tours. Protected banyans inside private grounds like mosques and historic sites might try establishing Vanda tricolor — assuming the plant can adapt to these urban trees.

Why are orchids important to history?? Culturally they have been important in Asia for more than 2000 years. There are orchids are found carved in stone at Borubudur and Prambanan, two 9th century monuments. The cut flowers keep for a long time, and they were used by traditional dancers, and the plants are biologically incredible. The can reproduce sexually (seed) and asexually (dividing at roots), they attract bats, birds, bees, other insects, even flies, as pollinators. And they symbolize healthy rhizomal, mycorrhizal communities. There is so much research right now in the roles of fungal communities in rehabilitating forests…and cities! Along with algae and other micro life forms.

So the symbol of Yogya’s official plant on Yogya’s historic banyans…it could serve as an important focal point for studying both the city’s and surrounding area’s multispecies community of life.

One of my favorite anthropological theorists for her multispecies approach is Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing who was trained as a specialist of Indonesia and wrote award-winning books like In the Realm of the Diamond Queen and Friction detailing field experiences in Kalimantan with Dayak peoples and connecting them to more global flows of people and natural products, commerce. I think her work might help to theoretically inform a preservationist project aroung Jogja and Merapi, especially her more recent books including The Mushroom at the End of the World and her collaborative, open-access work Feral Atlas.

Orchids are not only a huge business all over Asia and the Pacific (esp. Hawaii) but their native range matches well with the arc of Indo-Pacific countries connected to the historic Austronesian migration. All across the region stretching from Madagascar to Easter Island are orchid hotspots.

Hawaii’s orchid business is so developed that nurseries sell tourists flowers already packed and certified “clean” to pass border and customs requirements. Like tulips in Holland, they are ready for carry-on!

Perhaps there is an angle with orchids to connect the diverse island peoples and island ecologies where orchids originate, like Merapi’s pockets of diversity high up the slopes, in between lava stone and lahar. There should be possibilities for Yogya-area nurseries to profit from the export of its indigenous biodiversity.

I gather from academic papers in English that Gadjah Mada University’s plant scientists are leaders in the study of Merapi’s orchids, and I imagine there are plenty of experts who could help design orchid conservation, adoption, conservation and sales. I of course have none, just a regional historian’s eye for comparisons and metaphors–perhaps a resource for global or trans-regional comparisons.  But to collaborate on such a project would be a delight!!!!

A newcomer’s fascination with Yogya! 🙂

I’m returning to Riverside for a busy quarter of teaching, including a trial course on modern se asian history through the lens of historic plants — teak, abaca, rubber, pepper, sugar, etc. But next spring I will start a long-planned Fulbright Fellowship at Universiti Sains Malaysia, so possibly from there I can explore this orchid idea…along with a mangrove one, and no doubt others.

Terimah kasi!!!!

I owe my deepest thanks to the friends and family in Yogya who shared their time and their Yogya lives with me. Thanks to Dila’s parents and sisters for a delightful Saturday night dinner with amazing sweet treats.

Yogya people have an incredible sense for sweet and varied desserts!!!! Dila’s sister scored a new top hit –  a dish with melon, lime, ice and coconut!!!! Me and my extra kilo thank you!

Thanks to driver Yusuf and his niece and interpreter Eggy who joined me for a hilariously fun trip to explore the southern coast of Java, its historic sites and national parks. They also shared about their life in a kampong on the edge of Yogya, about his experiences working in West Java’s steel mills, her experience going to college, working in call centers, and their work in the kampong preserving rich artistic traditions, also on raising kids, hoping for marriage, and many other things — sometimes hilariously mis/translated by Google Translate!

Through my colleague and dear friend, former Fulbright Visiting Prof at Riverside, Baskara Wardaya SJ, I was able to visit his community and learn about his research including a wonderful new book titled Awan Merah (Red Cloud) — that includes his observations from extensive travels in America, including a recent stay in Riverside!

Finally, sincere thanks to Kemuning Adiputri for taking time from her professional work, friends and family for two days of intense touring, long car rides and answering hours of my nonstop questions, helping me learn from local experts and being perfectly brilliant! I felt not that I was talking with a recent graduate but a colleague with decades of observations and life experiences. Best wishes to your family, many thanks, and I look forward to meeting in the future!

To all Yogya friends: I look forward to when you will visit me in California!  You have a friend in Riverside, and if baseball season is happening, plan on a trip to Dodger Stadium’s Top Deck! 🙂 Like here with Ali, Dila, Tam, Linh and their kids!

Mangrove and Megacity: The Watery Origins of Ho Chi Minh City

I’m getting prepped for a talk in two weeks called Mangrove and Megacity, part of a new (since 2019) phase of research looking at historical urban shorelines in Southeast Asia with a first focus on my old, favorite city: Thành Phố Hồ Chí Minh. I was first here as a volunteer English teacher in 1993! I had no idea then that, almost 30 years later, I’d still be exploring it’s amazing streets and especially the thousands of incredible restaurants. In 2019, a climate action group of scientists called Climate Central, published this piece to draw attention to cities around the world that are especially vulnerable to the effects of sea level rise from climate change. Here’s what one of their cool, predictive web tools showed for Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon) and the Mekong Delta:

Basically, pink means “bad” – underwater – and you can just make out where the city sits in this. As might be expected, local Vietnamese experts and an official government news outlet, VN Express, responded that the report was overly gloom and doom. So there is some tension between official and local views and foreign and diasporic views; but suffice it to say that WATER is on many people’s minds, even more than in the past (which has always been a lot). There are even stories and this 2014 Vietnamese film by Vietnamese-American director Nguyễn Võ Nghiêm Minh that features a noir-future Saigon where all of the pink zone has basically turned to ocean and, in a nod to author Chang Rae Lee’s On Such a Full Sea, the everyday farmers and cityfolk are now displaced and working in floating, factory farms controlled by one, giant corporation. I’m always ready for MORE Vietnamese science fiction, but this one’s a nice down payment:

I’m working backward in time, to better explore the history of this “wet city” and it’s coastal periphery, and I had fun georeferencing this 1820 “planimetric” map that a royal cartographer made for the Vietnamese emperor, showing the kingdom’s new, southern citadel, Gia Định (Q1, HCMC – downtown Saigon), and about 5km away the ethnic-Chinese trading area known now as Chợ Lớn. What was especially fun in georeferencing the map to a satellite image was really for the first time seeing the original web of tidal creeks, canals and river meanders connecting across the gridded streets of the modern city. A future tour of the city will take me to these waterways, roughly half of which are open and a quarter of which have been “restored” in terms of reducing waste effluents and clearing dwellings from their embankments.

After the Fall – Lessons from Vietnam – a Q&A with UCR Media

UCR’s newsroom did an interview with me today on the comparisons between the fall of Kabul and the fall of Saigon. That interview is visible here.

Two things jumped out to me in the process. First, when the reporter scrolled through images of Kabul’s airport, I was briefly transported to the old days in front of HCM City’s Tan Son Nhat Airport in the mid-1990s before the government built a new terminal. The old Saigon (SGN) airport terminal, the terminal that was shot up in 1975 and then lightly repaired afterwards, was to me like a ghost space. I could almost hear the military traffic on the tarmac, and I imagined the crowds of people rushing the gates before a barrage of North Vietnamese rockets closed the runways.

Photo by Dennis Jarvis

HCM City’s new international terminal has been in operation since 2007, but passengers on domestic flights still pass through the old airport.

Why do I wax on about airports? I think partly it has to do with the covid lockdown, but also airports symbolize the possibilities for real, global connectivity. For years when I landed at Tan Son Nhat, I was thronged by a crowd of relatives and taxi drivers, literally hundreds of people, even at 2am in the morning, waiting beyond the airport’s barriers to meet their overseas relatives. The ability to cross that threshold and FLY in or out of Vietnam was highly prized. Now Vietnamese people fly all over, so the “magic” of the airport space has faded just like ghost stories and ghosts in villages now blazing at night with electric lights.

Seeing pictures of Kabul Airport this week reminded me of those early (not always so good) days.

The second thing that jumped out during the interview was the reporter’s last question. “Did we lose the war in Vietnam?” That one threw me for a loop. I think anyone who knows about the American evacuation can surmise that we definitely lost something. Pushing helicopters off the deck of an aircraft carrier or permanently disabling them is a pretty good sign that a military in tactical terms has lost control. I was tempted to use that lame Neville Chamberlain quote about there being no winners in war, but instead I just thought about what “winning” means in such conflicts? The United States definitely did not succeed in its objectives of nation-building in either South Vietnam or Afghanistan; I think everyone agrees on that. But historians over the last fifty years have nevertheless produced piles of books in response to this question. Perhaps one of the most interesting is a 2012 book about “the winners” in Vietnam, a book that has yet to appear in English and isn’t available in Vietnam, Bên Thắng Quốc (The Winning Side) by Huy Đức. It has naturally drawn a lot of criticism from Vietnam-based writers, but at least it highlights the challenges that immediately face the “winners” once the old regime’s flags are lowered and the last American aircraft leaves. That’s what the Q&A is about.

Base Closures, Redux…

The New York Times last Thursday reported on the closure of Bagram Airbase, the center of the U.S. military’s operations in Afghanistan; and similar to base closures in Vietnam, they did it quickly and without consultation. Even the Afghan military forces guarding the base had no idea until the perimeter lighting went dark, a few hours after the last American personnel left under cover of night. Aside from some eyewitness reports, we may not know much about the process for twenty or thirty years before the U.S. government makes military records available.

The best historical sources we have to study the impacts of base closures are in Vietnam where there are copious records and we have almost fifty years of post-war peace in Vietnam to study the legacies of the conflict. I recently wrote a piece for the Vietnam Veterans of America’s magazine, VVA Veteran, titled “After the Bases Closed” that draws on these declassified documents and field studies to consider the afterlives of old bases. Briefly here are some lessons learned:

Always a Messy Divorce – The Army’s Real Estate Lawyers

In 1972 when the U.S. Army closed one of its largest bases near Huế called Camp Eagle, it evacuated 15,000 troops, all of their gear, and basically anything not bolted down in about three weeks. The Army’s estate lawyers, the Real Property Division of the Inspector General’s office, itemized every plywood hut, flamethrower and truck that was either to be carted off or left behind. It estimated approximate values for everything left behind as an “improvement” to the land. Military contractors, companies like AECOM and KBR that operated power plants, water treatment centers and other services on the bases removed their privately owned centers with no obligations to keep these “guts” of the base working post-handover.

So what happened? Publicly in 1972, a brief (daylight) ceremony with military bands playing songs was followed by generals exchanging handshakes and the South Vietnamese flag raising up over the base. Privately, South Vietnam’s military commanders were hopping mad! They were given a base without electricity, water, or perimeter lighting. Instead of supporting local operations, it was a tactical liability, a giant footprint of indefensible hills ten kilometers south of Huế. And fitting for a messy divorce, there was a huge bill to be settled. Those U.S. Army lawyers itemized the real estate on the base in order to charge the Saigon regime a bill for these “improvements” to the land. The bill for Camp Eagle topped 4 million dollars! South Vietnam’s generals got so mad they held a press conference to publicize it.

Of course we don’t know the still-classified events surrounding the closure of bases like Bagram AFB in Afghanistan, but news of the lights going out, looting and talk of foreign loans to cover “improvements” suggest some striking parallels. As with South Vietnam, the U.S. relationship to the government in Kabul is a highly unequal one; so at least for the Afghan allies we might expect they’ll see the closures as a messy divorce.

Toxic Waste – No Charge…Yet

Against the balance sheet of improvements, one might expect the U.S. military’s lawyers to also itemize liabilities or damages to the land, things like landfills leaching toxic waste or buried caches of unexploded ordnance. In Vietnam, any volatile materials that could not be repurposed were pushed into ravines and covered with dirt. This included lead-based paints, solvents and caches of 55-gallon drums containing CS (2-chlorobenzylidene malononitrile), the highly caustic powder base used to produce tear gas. Granted there were far fewer U.S. military regulations then for disposal of these materials. The EPA was formed in 1970 and remediation of toxic waste sites did not figure in to estimates of land value. However, one has to hope that today at least the U.S. military has managed to at least estimate the costs for cleaning up burn pits, spent uranium and fire retardants and other chemicals. In Vietnam, local governments must contend with multi-million dollar bills to clean up such hazards; and in many cases cash-strapped districts must opt for a more affordable option. Leaving toxics in the ground and capping sites with asphalt.

A Possible Bright Side – Footprints for an Industrial Future

Generally, the postwar cleanup of American bases in Vietnam was an extremely painful and expensive undertaking. Vietnamese sources are still silent on the numbers of youth volunteers who lost limbs or lives salvaging metal from unexploded bombs and abandoned vehicles. In the short term, for roughly twenty years after the war’s end, most old bases were eyesores, and air bases like Danang Tan Son Nhat carried on as airports but running a tiny fraction of traffic and the former U.S. military cantonment surviving on as a concrete ghost town of revetments and hangars. Until very recent airport expansions demolished these structures, passengers on taxiing aircraft glimpsed the airport’s wartime history as a center for U.S. operations.

Now more than forty years later, Vietnam has emerged as an industrial powerhouse in Southeast Asia. The legacy of closed bases, even Camp Eagle, is changing rapidly. Since the ruling Communist Party reconfirmed it’s commitment to “market-oriented Socialism” in 2000, local leaders have quietly turned the closed bases into centers for industrial parks, air cargo terminals and new urban quarters. Former American bases are the backbone of southern Vietnam’s booming manufacturing industry. After the last fifty years of military and state ownership, the base footprints are free of contesting land claims, and long-abandoned base street grids come complete with utility easements. In some cases, American contractors that initially installed equipment submitted bids for new jobs since they possessed unique expertise. I once met a veteran on a flight into Saigon who worked on airport beacons during the war and in 2000 represented Motorola in that company’s bid to outfit Saigon’s new airport with radio equipment.

If Vietnam is any gauge for Afghanistan and if Kabul falls like Saigon, admittedly two big if’s, we should expect a long period of radio silence as a new regime takes hold and seeks to erase any vestige of American presence. We might expect the messiest of divorces with Afghanistan’s government and long-simmering claims coming from the postwar government if Kabul falls. It might take a decade or more before we know the extent of toxic and other wastes left behind as well as their long-term effects on Afghan and American veterans.

But perhaps, if we take a longer view, the experience in Vietnam suggests a possibility for postwar development, especially around the larger American bases. Despite deeply opposed ideologies between the United States and Vietnam, communist leaders did their homework on the infrastructure they were to inherit after capturing Saigon. Pham Xuan An, a communist super spy who famously worked at the Time magazine bureau and reported up to the day of Saigon’s fall, once told me years later that just before Saigon’s imminent collapse, he learned that the US Agency for International Development sent a truckload of plans and documents outlining future projects like hydropower dams and land reclamation schemes to the Presidential Palace so that conquering troops could preserve this work. Today, many of these plans, for better or worse, have been realized.

If the American experience with postwar Vietnam has taught us anything, it is to expect the unexpected and that with time and reconciliation, hopefully years but probably decades, even the worst of enemies can become friends or, at least, partners in peace.

Student Blogs and the Pandemic

One very nice discovery during the pandemic has been finding new ways for students to work collaboratively with each other in their writing and research by using blogs. Years ago I experimented with blogs. They’re not a new thing! For instance, I used it on a study abroad program to Hue, Vietnam as a way for students who were traveling, away from libraries and dorms, to log their writing and share with friends back home.

But this winter term, there’s not really the same motivation. It’s not like we’re traveling to magical lands, meeting amazing, new people, eating wonderful, new foods! 🙂 But still, students want CONNECTION. And perhaps they are taking their digital connection a little more seriously since it is all they have. Last term, I dove down the rabbit hole of a discord server with my 500-student History 20, but discord lacks any real lasting structure, just an endless chat and it tends to foster gamer-style chats, little more.

But blogs, and especially commenting and asking students to CITE each others blogs in their papers, this WORKS! I’m teaching an Early SE Asian History course this term, and students are asked to write blogs on a prearranged list of topics:

They bring in and cite sources, and then other students writing about Angkor, Pagan, Dai Viet etc. are asked to cite other students’ blogs in developing their take-home essays. And they are required to cite their peers’ blogs and add comments on each one they use. Here’s a sample, student comments on David Baltierra’s blog on the cosmology of Angkor Wat:

By requiring students to build their own arguments from other students’ research, I managed to build in some legit peer review, I think! And I for one really like the public nature of this writing. I tell students that I can refer to their writing in rec letters, and I do, and I think it helps (good writers, good students) on their post-baccalaureate applications. I mean, it’s not a thesis, but for many students at Riverside applying to Cal States for their teacher credentials, it’s something.

Finding Historical Imagery – A Quick Approach

Friends have asked me about process in finding historical imagery about a site. Especially for studying historic changes in shorelines, land use, and other features, it’s very useful to look for mid-20th century imagery and maps. While North American and European countries offer up extensive online tools for downloading digital orthoquads, topos, etc., it’s much more difficult in formerly colonized parts of the Global South! Thus researchers have to rely, when possible, on imagery produced either by colonial powers or, esp. in Asia before 1945, by the U.S. military. This demo explores imagery for one study site, Waigeo Island off the northwest coast of West Papua (Irian Jaya).

The first place to go, especially if you want to compare features over large areas, is the incredible collection of declassified, American spy satellite photographs with the top-secret Corona or Keyhole Program. USGS maintains a searchable index on its Earth Explorer platform.

Corona Images of Waigeo

I did some research and the results were no good – all those stereo images, but everything’s covered in clouds! Those were the breaks before infrared scanners. Spies thwarted by clouds!

Searching your site on this platform requires selecting a polygon and then selecting “data sets”. Here you can see the polygon around Waigeo and then the “footprints” of resulting “keyhole” photos, stereo pairs, medium res, on November 13, 1966. The “F” and “A” in each photograph’s code means “fore” and “aft” cameras. If these images were not blanked out by clouds, then one could download these and assemble 3-d pairs. The little thumbnail of each image shows that these frames are totally white, so no use.

Also, the little icon of the red circle with a slash means the frame isn’t already digitized and downloadable. This means, if the frame was clear and gorgeous, you’d have to click the little shopping cart and BUY it at $30/frame. IF these were clear frames, then you’d be spending $360 to get 12 frames for building stereo pairs of the whole island for Nov 13, 1966.

Sadly, at least for us, it was a cloudy day on Waigeo on Nov 13th, 1966 so whatever was happening that day on the ground is lost.

But this isn’t it. For this region, I know that the final year of Allied military campaigns in the “southwest pacific theater” brought bomber squadrons to Papua, so I’m going to shift gears and look for Army Air Force images.

Researching WW2 historic imagery requires a little bit of knowledge about the ways state governments and militaries organized their air photography…but with a little bit of luck…and some good old fashioned word  searches…we might find some imagery.

US Army Air Force Photography

The historic collection of American air photos, including original celluloid roles of 9-“ wide film, is catalogued in Record Group 373 – Defense Intelligence Agency. Yep, you need to go down the rabbit hole of mid-20th century American military spying! (cue the music!)

During WW2 the operation was analogue but highly sophisticated, and in the 1950s it mushroomed into a huge effort to spy on everyone and photograph the entire Earth! One org, the National Photographic Interpretation Center, NPIC, launched under Kennedy in 1961 had an army of photogrammetrists, photo interpreters, and “intel” people pouring over photos like these and the Corona ones to document what everyone else was doing. Since the 1980s, most everything moved to digital scanners in space, think Landsat and secret military satellites. So these collections – film-based, archived – are really special, a 1930s-1970s time capsule compared to the flood of digital information since.

I first googled “army air force photography papua” and my first link turned me here, to this unexpected source at Library of Congress:

What I get from this is that the Army was busy studying key airfields on the northern coast of Papua, they even drew up pretty topographic maps (derived from air photos) in the Army Corps of Engineers standard way (also interesting, this history of Army Corps styles and conventions, line widths, symbols).

Nothing specific to Waigeo but some nice descriptive material about an aerodrome just to the southeast of it. So, a trip to Wikipedia, for more…

A military historian might then look at units assigned here, just to get a sense of the level of activity. Militaries are the ultimate Anthropocene organizations! Studying them is like studying industrial tree plantations or oil and gas pipeline projects. They have what’s called an “Order of Battle” that is a tree-like structure of their organization, and at the larger “trunk” levels, each unit has historians collecting photographs, writing up reports, etc. So they can be useful windows into stuff like SPECIES, esp. fish and trees, in 1944. Here I find a LOT of units:

So, now I want to check out military history records for more descriptive information. The Center for Military History and Defense Technical Information Center (dtic.mil, we love acronyms!) contain MANY useful histories of these units and military air reconnaisance, for ex. Piercing the Fog:

Chapter 5 is an account of that “southwest pacific” area, 1942-45, so worth a read. I’m only familiar with the Ch 6 accounts given that the B29’s were also bombing Vietnam in 1944. Also cool, “Japanese air intelligence.”

I took a side detour and was curious to find more recent USGS-related mapping, using space photography to study retreating Papuan glaciers. Not related to Waigeo, but fun and it draws on those 1942-45 AAF photos.

One pic from loc.gov searching turned up this view of Sansapor, too:

And besides Japan and the US, Aussies were snapping pictures of Papua from the air, but I guess the eastern (British) side:

Moving on to the US National Archives, they have really upgraded their digital offerings. Nice explanations on their “Unwritten Record” blog about their photographic collections, esp. foreign imagery collections that MIGHT include captured Japanese materials post surrender in 1945:

Now for diving into this record group – 373 – Defense Intelligence Agency. That’s the place to call up specific photo series for Army Air Force over Papua. We need to know overlay indexes and  1-degree-square and the NW corner to get to the right place.

At first, I wasn’t sure if it was NW or SW corner, so here:

Clicking on the overlay index, nope, too far north.

The first page for each index should be a 1-degree MAP, but this degree square lacks one, and I think I got the system wrong, so trying 00S130E (south of the equator), I get Waigeo:

Bingo! There’s Waigeo! So now the trick is to figure out if the American military ordered up any pictures on the island. To use it in this digital form, it helps to put a sticky on the screen of the area of interest, say a village on that inlet, and then scroll through each one. Sounds complicated, but when you try it you quickly get the hang of it.

Here’s the index map for 00S130E (south of the equator and 130 degrees east of Greenwich). I’ve highlighted a rectangle (imagine pasting a sticky on your computer screen).

Here’s the index map with “sticky”:

Now here’s a page of an air photo reconnaissance mission, clicking the next frame but keeping my sticky:

This tells me I have a HIT! Probably 25 photographs shot over my study site. We struck gold! However, look at the rest of the island, mostly empty. So it really is hit or miss whether you can find historic imagery completely covering a large study site. Let’s look at the collar info for some more details – if we were requesting this can of photo-negative film, we’d need it the OP(eration) Number.

Besices giving an OP number, penciled in later, the info here tells us that the view was partly cloudy, so beware. Also the date and some other info. Upon requesting the film you may find other issues, too, like the can cannot be found. And upon request, readers have to wait several days for the can to be physically retrieved from a salt mine near St. Louis, flown on a daily flight to Ft. Meade (NSA) and then driven to College Park and the NARA reading room. (For a brief overview of this amazing process, see my piece here.)

Also interesting (to me) is that this index was created in 1957, supporting a global mapping effort during the Cold War.

From here, the search for imagery requires physically going to NARA in College Park and requesting rolls of film (or hiring a very expensive research contractor).

Besides imagery, of course there are historic maps that can also be very useful especially for all of the details mapmakers inscribe as they convert air photographs into simplified information.

Perry Casteñeda Map Library

US military maps, too, can be very informative! One possible source for historic maps of your study area is the Perry Casteñeda collection at University of Texas. Here’s the index page for Indonesia:

With map-research, I think it is always best to start with smaller scale maps, 1:250-000 for ex:

Then, select the one, and if you are uncertain, “Click here for Index Map”. And you get a page like this:

From there, we can find Waigeo up in the northwest corner. And highlighted grid squares mean they exist in this collection.

Isn’t it a beaut! No topography for Waigeo, but TOPONYMS!!!

Here’s Waigeo:

And always read the collars! For map nerds, it’s mildly interesting that the map is based on a polyconic projection. Works better for equatorial locations. But the real info is what sources the mapmakers used.

I haven’t really scratched the surface of Dutch cartography, but I am fairly certain Dutch archives, museums and libraries have made their historical collections of places like West Papua fairly EASY to search.

I hope this tutorial can help you get started in researching imagery for your site!

Map Data: 1960 Security – Upland District

I had a nice skype interview with a grad seminar at my alma mater yesterday, UW in Seattle, and one student very rightly asked me when I was going to upload the map data I’d promised in my book to readers. The answer, friends, is NOW. I am renting some space on this server, 100GB, and I intend to USE IT! I’ll start with an archival map from the Vietnamese National Archives in HCM City from the records of the Cabinet of the First Republic of Vietnam (Đệ Nhất Cộng Hoa or Đ1CH in my notes in the book). The following image is super-cool as an example of American and CIA-inspired choropleth mapping used to describe communist-friendly areas in Southeast Asia. The use of pie charts, for example, with pink for “pinkoes” or “communist sympathizers” and the yellow for Republic of Vietnam loyalists (their flag was yellow with red stripes).

The map georeferenced, overlaying satellite imagery.

Here’s a link to the full-rez, georeferenced (for ArcGIS) FILE. Source info: File 17331, Record Group ĐICH, Vietnam National Archives Center No. 2.

Before I go further, let me just apologize outright to my geographer and GIS friends for providing no metadata on this. Please sympathize, I’m not an agency supplying data but an historian offering up usable files for the few.

Now, what’s cool about this map, especially when overlaying current satellite imagery, is how what was once a jungle clearing, bull-dozed grids of housing blocks and “enemy bases” has grown in the postwar era into a full-fledged town and district called Nam Đồng!

This illustrates a very important point about the communist nation-building effort, that not only were they establishing key strategic nodes in highland areas, but they were continuing a centuries-old program of “cultivating” these highland spaces. This term (giao hóa) suggests a particularly Vietnamese (and Chinese) style of interacting with highland groups. Bringing in highlanders to trade, providing literacy (in Vietnamese), integrating them into an expanding – topological – network of “the state”.

By contrast, the Diệm government, especially his brother Cẩn’s shadowy government ruling the central region, took a more brutalist approach to these highland areas that communists had been “cultivating” since 1947.

So, enjoy the map! Download the file, play with it, and let me know if it says anything more to you.


More info:

Here’s what I write about this map and how it fit into RVN nation-building in 1960, from Footprints of War, pp. 124-5:

“The new military rulers in the uplands of the province introduced new political maps with light and dark pink shadings that conveyed their singular purpose of counterinsurgency. Dark pink described areas that were deeply contested while light pink suggested fading support. While such maps fed into national military planning for the RVN, they also informed American military allies who had for years been drawing up similar maps in neighboring Laos and Thailand. The military authors of this map used dark pink shading to indicate areas still largely under the communists’ control. They used a lighter shade of pink to indicate lighter opposition in the hills west of Hoà Mỹ and southwest of another evacuated area, Khê Trái.

As a cartographic projection of the ARVN’s ambitions in 1960 for mopping up these bases of communist support, the map presented communist-controlled regions in symbolic terms most familiar to American counterinsurgency experts at the time. Small pie charts in each highlands commune showed, via darker shaded sections, the approximate percentage of people who were “Việt Cộng in the region,” still a majority across the hills. Lighter pink shading indicated areas with diminished support, and colored or empty circles indicated villages that supported a particular side or had been abandoned, respectively.

Excerpts of the map showing the map’s deep pink areas, the hills around Nam Đồng and the A Sầu Valley, bear closer inspection, for they show how ecological and political boundaries coincided, often separating ARVN posts from communist base areas by only a few kilometers. Reconstituted self-defense units and communist cells, pushed almost to annihilation during several years of unrelenting police sweeps, extended their political and communications networks to the very tips of streams and tributaries on the highest slopes. ARVN troops could not easily penetrate the dense forests without support from Katus and highland groups while communist partisans retained the older practice of navigating by rivers and mountain ridges with help from native highlanders.”

Published in Vietnamese!

This morning, a friend in Hanoi emailed me a picture of my first book, Quagmire, translated into Vietnamese: Đầm Lầy by David Biggs. I was taken by surprise because my American publisher informed me that they were negotiating to sell translation rights and then … nothing. One and a half years later, voila!

Even funnier than the ease with which this happened, is that the online seller doesn’t ship books outside Vietnam so I can’t even buy a copy!

Back to the Mekong Delta

I had the pleasure of co-leading a group of graduate students to the Mekong Delta after having not been in the region for a good seven years. (My second book is focused on the central coast of Vietnam.) It was fun to revisit old sites and see old friends while traveling with the group. Below are some favorite shots from the trip.

Vinh Te Canal. View looking west from Chau Doc.

I love the above picture for the layers of activity and occupation. Houses on stilts back up into the canal while int he foreground a man fishes from a “ghe tam ban” or three plank canoe. In the distance, a barge approaches us. The water is reddish brown and opaque, almost milky with the fine silt washing down from the Mekong.

Chau Giang Mosque.

The group visited the Cham muslim community’s central mosque. During the visit, one of the imams received our group, and I learned something new.

Imam explaining the mosque and community history.

He corrected me on the history of *his* community and ancestors. They were not Chams who migrated west to the region in the 1700s and later converted to Islam but instead Malays who migrated north and east from Terengganu in Malaysia through Cambodia in the 1700s and finally settled here. Because Cham and Malay are distantly related, Austronesian languages, the Viet chroniclers and imperial officials in the area simply classified them as Cham. The post-1975 Socialist Republic of Vietnam likewise recognizes this community as a Cham ethnic group. One of the students, Nurrhoman from Bandung, Indonesia, communicated some basic phrases with the imam in Malay/Bahasa.

Group at Miếu Bà Chưa Xứ.

We visited a number of important spiritual sites in the region, including this temple dedicated to the Lady of the Realm, a goddess spirit followed especially by ethnic-Chinese inhabitants at a site that, in ancient times (before 6th century CE) was most likely a temple to Siva or Visnu. Allegedly those who pray to the Lady for good fortune who receive it must return to make offerings of thanks. The money from this return traffic then goes to various charities.

Prof. John Agbonifo and Martina van den Haak at Khmer temple, Oc Eo.

One great aspect of the trip was sharing the teaching with two fantastic scholars, John Agbonifo of Osun State in Nigeria and Debjani Bhattacharyya at Drexel University, and the author of the newly published Empire and Ecology in the Mekong Delta. It is a fascinating read!

Prof. Debjani w/ a local official in Can Tho, myself and the group.

We ended our delta trip in Can Tho with several meetings in this booming city. I left it in 2011 at 500,000 people, and now the city has tripled in area with a population of 1.5 million! My favorite meeting there was with an old friend, Ms. Huynh Le, who visited the group and spoke about life in this boomtown.

Huynh Le at her language school.

The trip ended in HCM City on Friday and students gave presentations on Saturday. Thanks to Ms. Hoang for the cute little souvenir! Pictured in the background is “Team Non Lá (Conical Hat)”.

Team Conical Hat

I leave you with a shot from old Saigon, the back of it’s main open air market. I like this shot for the many layers visible here. In the foreground the butcher stalls and flower stands of Ben Thanh. In the background are old facades from the French colonial and post-colonial eras. Then in the way back are the towering spires of recently completed skyscrapers. Farewell until next time, Vietnam!

Ben Thanh Market, Saigon