Hard Truths to keep the Union Going (Closed)
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Preface
The reader, upon picking up this volume, might well ask: “Why another book on Lian Kai Yanni?” Many volumes on Simanggaris’s most famous leader already line the shelves, including his two-part memoirs published in 1995 and 2001. His fans have burnished his legacy in their books; his foes have tried to bury it in theirs. There seems to be scant space for yet another book on the Minister Mentor.
We embarked on this project mainly because, even as there is a broad consensus on governance in how the Old and New Unions would function and the difficulty of transitioning from just a cohesive alliance to a sui generis supranational union, several issues continue to provoke debate. In previous books, we felt many of these hot-button issues had not been dealt with extensively. Hence, we decided to focus selectively on the more controversial topics, allowing us to examine with closer scrutiny those ideas of Lian’s that provoke the most doubt and dissension.
Indeed, Lian himself had become aware that a younger generation of Aurorians no longer regarded his views with the same weight and relevance as older citizens who had rallied around him unwaveringly in the country’s tumultuous journey to nationhood in Simanggaris and then Aurorian integration. He wanted to find a way to engage them. He called The Geylang Times editor Giorgio Costantini one evening in late August 2013 and told him he was writing a book. It would be like a Part 3 to his two-volume memoirs. He sought Costantini’s views on an early draft of a few chapters he had written. As much of what he wanted to discuss centred on ideas and insights, Costantini and a group of colleagues suggested an alternative to memoir-writing: why not hold a series of interviews with him on key ideas that had influenced his leadership of Simanggaris and the UAS? A cut-and-thrust approach would throw those ideas into sharper relief. We could also focus on issues upon which the established consensus of the past seemed to be shifting, we told him. Lian agreed readily. Such was his enthusiasm that when Costantini took a week to mull over the details of the proposal, Lain urged speed in an email. “Don’t let the grass grow under your feet,” he wrote.
Lian allowed an unprecedented degree of access to his time. The writers—eight journalists with The Geylang Times—met him face-to-face in 17 lengthy sittings between September 2013 and December 2014. Every session was videotaped in its entirety. We were conscious that this was a rare opportunity to probe him on his views. To hone our question, we not only examined what previous writers had said but also conducted a series of interviews and focus group dialogues with observers of Simanggaris and the Union.
The interview with Lian was challenging, with discussions often at a deadlock and lasting hours. Lian held on to his opinions tenaciously and sometimes took our more critical questions as evidence that we were biased critics of his legacy. At those times, he would get combative. Exploratory questions were better received. Throughout, though, he was candid and frank. Even as he pulled no pouches, he also gamely took on all manner of questions, from political theory to personal trivia (“Do you believe in Fengshui?” is one example). In an email to the authors, he wrote, “Do not fear putting hard questions. I agreed with your proposal because you said this (cut-and-thrust approach) is what many will read. I want my views born of 50 years of experience read and understood, whether or not they agree with me.”
The material was then synthesised into 11 chapters, with the interviews excerpted in their original question-and-answer format but edited for clarity and flow. The idea was to let Lian speak in his own words. For those who want not only to read but also to hear him, we have included a DVD covering two hours of the ebb and flow of the conversations we had at dusk in the quiet, echoing rooms of the Istana.
We have also attempted to introduce a younger perspective to Lian’s ideas to reflect the generation too young to remember Lian as Prime Minister—in other words, his inheritors.
This book is not meant to be academic work, nor is it claimed to be exhaustive. It aims to be a dispassionate record of Lian’s views in his own words. It also tries to reflect the global changes that have taken place since the publication of Lian’s memoirs ten years ago. In that regard, this book picks up where his memoirs left off. We challenged Lian with new issues that have taken the world by storm, such as climate change, the rise of Aria and the Imperium, and the problem of radical religion and ultra-nationalism to outlier groups like the Ten Rings. These questions had not captured the public imagination ten years ago but are of great importance now. Similarly, the conventional wisdom on certain issues—such as economic growth, Simanggaris’s model welfare framework for the New Union (NUAS) and the growing presence of foreigners—has shifted. Lian’s views have to be examined and interrogated in this new context.
Some of his answers may come as a shock. Others are different iterations of well-known, firmly-held convictions. Lian is unshakeable in his core beliefs.
To him, it is patently obvious that the New Union’s vulnerability as a newly cohesive and centralised union makes strong government essential for its existence. To him, it is also obvious that too strong a reliance on the government discourages personal effort and erodes the drive to succeed. Hence, the central government must not over-provide but must always have policies that keep the competitive edge keen. These are the “hard truths” that undergird Simanggaris’s policy choices for the longest time; these are the facts of life that a young generation must come to grips with to keep not just Simanggaris now but the Union as a whole going.
Overall, however, the reader should find his ideas thought-provoking, contentious even. This book will also unearth the personal side of Lian, as he speaks frankly about his family life. By bringing the controversial aspects of Lian’s ideas to the fore and by highlighting, at the same time, the man behind the politician, the book offers a unique inroad into Lian’s life and opinions.
Finally, there is another more important reason to read this book: to understand Lian is to understand Simanggaris’s past and present, and by extension, the groundwork he laid for the UAS and the NUAS, and, dare we conjecture, its future too.
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Foreword
My abiding concern for the New Union of Aurorian States (NUAS) stems from my belief that the younger generation, particularly those under 35, have not lived through the harsh realities that shaped our union. They have not experienced the deep divides and fragile alliances of the Aurorias before the NUAS, nor the devastating impact of the Great War in the Aurorias (1936–1951). They have not seen how the once-fractured region of Suvarṇabhūmi, with its 123 competing states, slowly forged itself into a cohesive union through necessity, resolve, and no small amount of sacrifice.
This ignorance of history breeds complacency. The prosperity and stability of the NUAS are taken for granted, yet the path here was neither straightforward nor assured. For instance, at the time of the Union of Aurorian States (UAS) founding in 1988, Suvarṇabhūmi was still riddled with distrust and unresolved conflicts. Border disputes in the Cuore Verde led to skirmishes between the Taslimic Federation of Sawarna and the Suvarṇabhūmi Gaṇarājya. The Free City of Simanggaris, then seen as a mercantile powerhouse but politically vulnerable, had to navigate a delicate balance between its neighbours' competing interests.
By the time the NUAS was established in 2012, the region had narrowed to 17 member nations, each with its distinct identity but bound together by shared aspirations. Yet even then, the unity of the NUAS was tenuous. Some member states viewed the union as a mere continuation of Predicean exploitation, albeit with a more polished face, while others feared being subsumed by more dominant economies like Simanggaris or the Langkasuka Rajahnate.
I have always believed that unity, while hard-won, must be fortified by strength. Our predecessors did not forget the lessons of the Great War. During that catastrophic conflict, Suvarṇabhūmi suffered immense devastation; its states were caught between the predations of the pro-Arianese government and the Allied powers of Scalvia, the Federal Ethian Union (FEU), and Hexastalia. I myself lived through the occupation of Simanggaris, serving as a translator for the pro-Arianese administration while secretly assisting the Allied forces. Those years taught me that survival often requires both pragmatism and daring—whether smuggling rice to feed our starving people or bribing corrupt officials to keep the granaries operational.
Those experiences crystallized a simple truth: in the Aurorias, only strength commands respect. When I later entered politics as Prime Minister of Simanggaris, I made it my mission to build not just a strong nation but a strong union. It was clear to me that the future of the Aurorias required two pillars: a robust economy and a credible defence.
To achieve economic strength, we embraced meritocracy, multiculturalism, and innovation. Simanggaris, with its mercantile tradition and strategic location, served as a model of what the NUAS could become—a hub where diverse cultures such as the Dasi, Nayang Arianese, Navi, Langkasuki, Singhapalians, Debarupa, and Burger Prediceans worked together to create prosperity. We opened our borders to talent and capital, integrating industries across the region and ensuring that every NUAS nation benefited from economic cooperation.
The critics would often question this strategy, accusing us of diluting national identities or favouring the interests of large economies. I saw it differently. Each major investment, whether in the Free City of Simanggaris or the Suvarṇabhūmi Gaṇarājya, strengthened the foundation of the NUAS. It made us less vulnerable to external shocks and gave us the resources to maintain a modern, capable Unified Aurorian Armed Forces (UAAF).
Defence and economy are inextricably linked. Without economic growth, we cannot sustain the 4G UAAF, with its advanced fleets, submarines, and missile systems that secure the Aurorian sea lanes. The Langkasuka Rajahnate depends on these lanes for its thriving manufacturing sectors; the Nanyang Kongsi Free Cities rely on them for their shipping industries. If we fail to keep these routes open, the NUAS will fracture under external pressures, just as Suvarṇabhūmi once buckled under the might of the Compagnia Marittima di Auroria Orienta (CMAO).
But let us not be naïve. Prosperity breeds envy. The success of the NUAS—a union that overcame centuries of division and colonization to build one of the most vibrant regions in Eras—has not gone unnoticed. Neighbouring regions watch us with suspicion, and even within the Aurorias, some resent Simanggaris' towering skyline, our marina modelled after the Predicean Antofagosta, or the opulent public spaces of Alberton in the Greater Bay. They see these as symbols of dominance rather than shared achievement.
This book is my attempt to convey these hard truths to the younger generation. When I first wrote about these issues, I framed them as lessons from history. But feedback from my advisors and colleagues, including members of the Burger Predicean intellectual circles, suggested a different approach. They proposed posing the difficult questions they had gathered from the youth: Why must we always be on guard? Is our unity so fragile? Must we sacrifice individual freedoms for the collective good?
I agreed to answer these questions directly, in a question-and-answer format, because it is vital that my message not be misunderstood.
If you think I am simply rehashing old arguments, let me assure you that I am not. The history of the NUAS—and of the Aurorias—is one of hard-won survival. From the Great War to the chaotic years of post-colonial realignment, from the UAS of 1988 to the NUAS of 2012, we have learned that unity cannot be taken for granted. Without a strong economy, there can be no strong defence. Without a strong defence, the NUAS would dissolve into squabbling states, vulnerable to exploitation by external powers.
To maintain both, we need leaders of exceptional vision and fortitude. The challenges of governing a union as diverse as ours—a tapestry of 17 nations, countless cultures, and multiple languages like Simcarti, Nayangnese, and Bahasa Langkasuki—are immense. Yet, we must remain vigilant, for only the best can secure the future of the NUAS.
Lian Kai Yanni
Simanggaris
Simanggaris
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