This roundtable explores possible strategic shifts in the Indo-Pacific between now and 2024. Focusing on trade security, climate change disruptions and security cooperation, it aims to enhance the understanding of the regional goals of, and strategic relationships between, the key countries active in the region.

The workshop is part of a larger project funded by the Strategic Policy Division of the Australian Department of Defence. The project includes workshops in the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Japan, India and the Pacific Islands (Tonga).
 

Internet shutdowns in Asia have become frequent and persistent, an ominous sign of shrinking public space for debate and discourse. The shutdowns have become an irresistible option for governments of all stripes and ideological affiliations. Democratic India, Sri Lanka, Indonesia and the Philippines are prodigious offenders. So are Asia’s more repressive regimes, notably China.

In their defence, governments have offered real and imagined threats to national security as reasons for shutting down the pipes. It is useful to examine these claims as well as to objectively frame the issue. Are internet shutdowns in Asia legitimate and can be defended and explained as threats to national security? Or should we take a broader approach where international law, norms, values, rights and indeed economic stability could be invoked to curb this invidious practice?

Let’s start with the shutdown in Kashmir, where Indian authorities clamped down on internet access for a straight 165 days, described by rights group Access Now as the ‘longest shutdown ever in a democracy’. The Kashmir Chamber of Commerce and Industry estimates that the shutdown had huge economic costs, estimated at over £1.9 billion.

The economic cost of the continuing surveillance and shutdown in China’s Xinjiang province is likely to be higher. But India is a democracy and could be a role model, which is why the recent assertion of Communications and Information Technology Minister Ravishankar Prasad is worrying. He asserted in Parliament that the Indian citizen’s right to the internet was not a fundamental right. ‘While right of internet is important, security of the country is equally important…Can we deny (that) the internet is abused by terrorists…?’.

The minister’s primary defence of the shutdown – that the internet was being abused by terrorists and others to foment unrest – has some merit. Our starting point therefore is that big tech platforms should be doing a significantly better job in monitoring content and in removing material designed to provoke violence and hatred. This is the original sin and Asian governments are right to worry about messaging platforms, for example, becoming preferred channels for venom and hate speech.

To date, the big tech firms have made the right noises about monitoring and moderating content, but they have not gone far enough, providing governments with the excuse to routinely shut down access. To be blunt, self-regulation of the platforms is not working and tougher global regulation, enforcement and sanctions, possibly via the G20, would help.

At the same time, better policing of the platforms will not resolve the issue entirely because governments regard internet shutdowns as a useful way to restrict human rights and to consolidate political control and surveillance over citizens. The international community – including nation-states, NGOs and the private sector – needs to come together and embrace two overarching principles:

First, digital access is a fundamental human right and integrated into global declarations and norms.

Second, to protect fragmentation and Balkanization of the internet, the digital pipes which carry data across national boundaries should be embedded into international law as being part of the global commons (just like oceans are under maritime law). This would raise the bar on countries which frequently restrict digital access to their citizens.

Sensible though these recommendations might seem, it is obvious that many Asian governments would be loath to sign up to global declarations which would limit their policy options at home. There is an economic dimension to internet shutdowns, as the Kashmir case makes clear, which could be addressed by naming and shaming, just as the OECD’s Financial Action Task Force does for countries falling foul of money laundering regulations. Recommendations include:

• Digital access should be included in the UN’s Human Development Index.
• The World Bank’s closely followed Doing Business Index (DBI) should score countries favourably based on their commitment to offering unimpeded access to the internet. China and India watch the DBI rankings very closely and will be forced to pursue a more liberal approach if their rankings fall precipitously.
• Since internet shutdowns have a clear economic cost, particularly in payments and financial services, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) should make an annual determination of member countries (as part of its surveillance mandate) of the impact of shutdowns on economic activity and financial stability.

Finally, all Asian governments have declared a public commitment to drive financial inclusion by providing digital access and identity to the poor and vulnerable. This mandate is at odds with frequent internet disruptions. A small vendor in Kashmir, Xinjiang or elsewhere in the region has limited or no recourse when the pipes are shut down. Central banks in the region need to step in by offering some level of protection, just like deposit insurance coverage.

It is clear that many of these recommendations would be rejected outright by many Asian governments. They regard internet shutdowns as part of their policy toolkit to deal with external and internal threats to national security. In pursuing such a rigid approach, governments are wilfully curbing their citizens’ space for debate and ignoring a much broader issue of rights to digital access.

Armed with a hammer, it is tempting for governments to regard the internet as a nail. The international community and citizens’ groups have an obligation to make such hammering very expensive.

The outbreak of communal violence in Delhi this week is the worst in India’s capital for decades. It both reflects and will reinforce India’s polarization.

That polarization is between the view that India represents homogeneity, grounded on the fact that its citizens are overwhelmingly (around four-fifths) Hindu (the view of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party [BJP] of Narendra Modi), and the alternative that India represents diversity – its population includes hundreds of millions of non-Hindus and speakers of dozens if not hundreds of different languages.

India’s polarization is reflected in the reaction to the three days of violence in northeast Delhi, which left hundreds injured and, at the time of writing, 34 dead. The government and its supporters portray the protesters as almost exclusively Muslim fifth-columnists, their actions facilitated by Islamist extremists or Pakistan or even the opposition Congress Party.

The alternative view is that violence has been initiated by state-supported thugs, with the police turning a blind eye. In this view the protesters reflect a broader spectrum of Indian society, with a shared aversion to communalism and a commitment to India’s secular ideals.

Delhi recently held a state election, and while the BJP lost, some of the rhetoric used by its politicians was vitriolic. One compared protesters to rapists and murderers. Another led his supporters in chants of ‘shoot the nation's traitors’, referring to the protestors.

In such an environment, in which Hindu vigilantes feel empowered and India’s Muslims feel defenceless, Delhi’s worst communal violence for decades erupted.

Some have drawn parallels between events in Delhi with the violence in Gujarat in 2002 when at least 1,000 people – the majority Muslim – were killed. There, the accusation against Modi, then chief minister of the state, was that the state turned a blind eye to violence.

In general, past outbreaks of communal violence in India have been dampened by the rapid imposition of a curfew and deployment of substantial security forces to enforce it. Such an approach was notably absent in both Gujarat and, thus far, Delhi.

The BJP, emboldened

The violence takes place in the wake of two controversial actions the BJP has taken since its re-election in 2019.

First, the BJP-led government revoked the special status of the state of Jammu and Kashmir. To the BJP, the special status accorded to Jammu and Kashmir, India’s only Muslim-majority state, was simply the most egregious example of their long-held view that other parties pandered to the Muslim community.

While the move gained some international criticism, the general response in India to the crackdown that followed – including the restriction of internet access and arrest of a number of politicians – was muted.

Then, the government put forward the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA).

In 2013, a year before the BJP’s first term in office, India’s Supreme Court ordered that the National Register of Citizens (NRC) be updated in the northeast Indian state of Assam.

Migration from what is now Bangladesh has been a contentious issue in northeast India region since colonial times and was the cause of widespread agitation, and conflict, in the region from the late 1970s.

While militancy continued thereafter, tension was partly resolved by the 1985 Assam Accord, which stated that people who had moved into Assam after 1971 (after the creation of Bangladesh) should be deported. However, this provision was not acted upon until the 2013 order.

In August 2019, the final NRC was published. Just under 2 million people were found to be non-citizens. A substantial proportion of these, however, appear to have been Hindus, a dilemma for the BJP.

To solve this, the government put forward the CAA, under which Hindus (along with followers of several other religions) could become Indian citizens. Muslims, however, were excluded. The BJP argued that the act was a generous gesture to illegal immigrants who faced persecution in neighbouring countries, and not a discriminatory gesture.

Unlike moves in Kashmir, the CAA sparked nationwide protests across India. While Assam is something of a special case, concern over the possible nationwide rollout of the CAA caused alarm. The government has recently been ambiguous over its intentions, though had earlier directed states to establish at least one detention centre.

The economy, creaking

That this is all taking place during an economic slowdown provides additional cause for concern. Many of India’s long-running internal conflicts subsided in recent years as the economy grew rapidly. But for the past year and a half, growth has slowed each quarter, to just 4.5% year on year.

The common assumption has been that India needs to grow at 8% to stand still, given the need to create millions of jobs. Unemployment currently stands at a 45-year high. Among 20 to 24-year olds, unemployment stands at 37%. India’s demographic dividend is being wasted.

For now, India seems trapped in a self-created vicious circle. The more it focuses on social and religious division, the more its economy will suffer. And while its economy worsens, the need to double-down on division as a distraction for its underemployed young men will intensify.