Back channel diplomacy is a strategic must in Asean — Phar Kim Beng

Malay Mail

19 hours ago

JULY 15 — In the highly fluid and dynamic diplomatic environment of Southeast Asia, back-channel diplomacy is not merely an option — it is a strategic necessity. While Asean may appear ritualistic and indecisive on the surface, beneath that calm exterior lies a quiet but firm will not to acquiesce. When issues are too politically combustible or diplomatically delicate to be addressed in formal settings, Asean turns to a different toolkit — one built on discretion, trust, and personal rapport.
This is not weakness. It is survival through subtlety.
The quiet refusal to accept the unacceptable
Asean is often criticized for being too slow, too soft, or too silent. But this criticism stems from a misreading of its behaviour. What looks like passivity is often a calculated refusal to escalate, provoke, or humiliate. Asean's silence in the face of provocation is not always surrender; it is sometimes the only viable way to keep lines of communication open when more forceful approaches would slam them shut.
This is where back-channel diplomacy comes into play. It allows Asean states to convey their discontent, concerns, or proposals discreetly. It enables dialogue when formal avenues are blocked. It also enables member states to preserve unity even when they disagree internally. The real work of diplomacy, in such moments, happens far from microphones and cameras.
Myanmar: The case for quiet tenacity
One of the most pressing examples is Myanmar. Since the 2021 military coup, Asean's formal mechanisms have struggled to engage the junta meaningfully. Public commitments have been ignored or undermined and attempts to dispatch envoys have met roadblocks. Yet the crisis continues to affect the credibility of the region — and the lives of millions.
In such a scenario, back-channel diplomacy is not just helpful — it is indispensable. Regional actors have engaged the regime not through loud pronouncements but through quiet visits, confidential dialogues, and the use of respected intermediaries. This includes religious leaders, retired generals, and former diplomats who, while not speaking officially, carry enough stature to be taken seriously.
These unofficial engagements are often the only way to negotiate humanitarian access, facilitate de-escalation, or push for incremental confidence-building. When no one else can talk, someone must still listen — and nudge.
The value of personal trust networks
What enables these efforts to function is not institutional power but personal trust. Southeast Asia has long operated on the strength of relationships: old classmates in government, retired military officers with transnational bonds, scholars who are quietly respected across borders. These relationships become the scaffolding upon which back-channel diplomacy is built.
They allow officials — active or retired — to float ideas informally, share warnings discreetly, and explore compromise without political cost. If a proposal fails, it vanishes with no public embarrassment. If it works, it can be elevated to the formal track with minimum friction.
This diplomatic informality is not a sign of disorganization. On the contrary, it reflects a high degree of regional maturity — an understanding that trust, not treaties, is often what prevents conflict.
Asean is often criticized for being too slow, too soft, or too silent. But this criticism stems from a misreading of its behaviour. What looks like passivity is often a calculated refusal to escalate, provoke, or humiliate. — Picture by Yusof Mat Isa
Back channel diplomacy in a region of shifting standards
Back-channel diplomacy becomes even more critical at a time when the return of great power competition is accompanied by a troubling duality: one standard for the powerful, and another for everyone else. When rules-based international order is selectively applied — or outright ignored — Asean cannot afford to rely solely on formal mechanisms that move too slowly for fast-unfolding crises. In the absence of credible enforcement of international norms, and with the law of the jungle gaining preponderance, Asean must quietly but consistently find ways to de-escalate tensions, protect its cohesion, and preserve regional autonomy.
One recent cautionary tale, however, reminds us that while back-channel diplomacy is necessary, it must also be conducted with care and supervision. The leaked phone call between then–Thai Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra and Cambodian Senate President Hun Sen, though unofficial in nature, inadvertently exposed the risks of personal, unstructured communications between senior officials. Yet despite the fallout, the issue at hand — the closure of transnational cybercrime hubs straddling the Thai Cambodian border — was and remains a legitimate diplomatic concern.
These cybercrime centres, reportedly targeted for shutdown by Chinese authorities, had grown into entrenched organized networks. When Thailand acted to close border crossings, organized criminal interests in Cambodia were affected, triggering both diplomatic unease and operational confusion. It is precisely in such moments — when sovereign decisions clash with transnational pressures — that Asean needs discreet dialogue, not diplomatic posturing.
Back-channel diplomacy must not occur in a vacuum. It requires structure, oversight, and credible interlocutors — what might be called policy sherpas — to navigate sensitive files before they escalate. Whether they operate through Track 1.5 dialogues, Track 2 consultations, or confidential political envoys, these sherpas can help test solutions, clear misunderstandings, and build pathways for official action. Asean needs more of them, not fewer.
Informality is Asean's quiet instrument of agency
In a region as politically diverse and historically fragmented as Southeast Asia, formal diplomacy is often constrained by divergent national interests. What can't be said officially still needs to be communicated. Back-channel diplomacy provides that space. It gives Asean the room to manoeuvre, to clarify misunderstandings, and to avoid unintended escalation.
This informal diplomacy also serves another critical function: it prevents external actors from monopolizing the regional narrative. In a world where external powers routinely seek to divide Asean for their own strategic ends, back-channel engagements among member states help ensure a minimum baseline of unity and coordination — even if it remains invisible to outsiders.
Rethinking what success looks like
Western observers often measure diplomatic success by visible breakthroughs: peace treaties, televised summits, signed declarations. But in Asean's context, success is sometimes best measured by what doesn't happen: crises that don't escalate, provocations that don't trigger retaliation, and situations that don't spiral out of control.
Back-channel diplomacy contributes directly to this kind of quiet stability. It prevents issues from hardening into stalemates. It allows countries to test each other's intentions without making irreversible moves. And it provides an escape route from the paralysis of unanimity when formal consensus is elusive.
Conclusion: The strength of stillness
Asean's style may be quiet, but it is not dormant. Its preference for back-channel diplomacy is neither accidental nor incidental. It is a reflection of the region's hard-won understanding of what works — and what doesn't — in a complex geopolitical theatre.
To mistake silence for inaction is to misread the language of diplomacy in Southeast Asia. Back-channel diplomacy is not a retreat. It is a recalibration. It is a way of navigating constraints, preserving unity, and preventing collapse without spectacle.
In the end, diplomacy is about outcomes, not optics. And in that quiet corner where official scripts cannot go, Asean's strength lies in its ability to whisper when the world expects it to shout.
* Phar Kim Beng is a professor of Asean Studies and Director of the Institute of Internationalization and Asean Studies at the International Islamic University of Malaysia
** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.