Introduction
Simon Creak, Holly High and Oliver Tappe
Submitted to Routledge, March 14th, 2025.
What is Laos and Lao Studies?
Based on its title, it seems perfectly clear what this Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Laos is about: the country of Laos or, to use its formal name, the Lao People’s Democratic Republic (Lao PDR/LPDR). However, as should become clear in the course of this introduction and the multi-faceted chapters that follow, the book has more to offer than an overview of a nation-state and its people—the basic social, political and economic patterns within a clearly defined territory. Like any country, Laos is full of historical contingencies and socio-political ambiguities, from incipient questions of sovereignty and power to cultural diversity and economic tensions. Offering a variety of topics and voices, the book thus represents more than a simple country study. In approaching the questions of ‘What is Laos?’ or ‘What is Lao Studies?’ we embrace doubts, contradictions and heterogeneity, instead of forcing coherence and consensus.
In one common view, the modern state of Laos—and, thus, Lao Studies—resulted from colonialism and corresponding processes of colonial and post-colonial state-building (Evans 1999). Although this perspective downplays locally understood connections between French Laos and pre-colonial Lao-Tai cultural communities centred along the Ou and Mekong rivers (see ‘The Past’), it recognises the political and territorial novelty of French Laos. In other words, when France enclosed within newly delineated borders the territories on the left bank of the Mekong—much of which hitherto belonged to Bangkok’s realm—it shaped a new political-territorial entity. A strength of this view is that it emphasises the importance of colonialism in the era when the nation-state became the prominent mode of political organisation worldwide. A weakness is that it downplays indigenous Lao impulses in state formation and arguably gives too much agency to metropolitan powers in determining local affairs.
A counterpoint to this view of Lao history is the one propagated widely by the Lao PDR government, which—like its predecessor, the Kingdom of Laos—traces the country’s origin to the Lao Kingdom of Lan Xang and its founding king, Chao Fa Ngum. In this telling, Laos—or, more precisely, its antecedent kingdoms—reached its apogee in the 17th century and ever since then has been characterised by foreign encroachments and resistance struggles against them (see ‘The Past’). A strength of this view of Laos is that it locates lines of continuity from the past to the present, which the Lao have long found meaningful, and places the many conflicts and adversities faced by the country at the forefront of its historical identity. A weakness is that it risks downplaying the place of ethnic minorities in the country’s history and simplifying into a single, nationalist narrative what has in fact been a far more complex history—much or which took place prior to the age of nationalism.
The French colonial territory that became the independent Kingdom of Laos in 1953 was sparsely populated (in large part due to deliberate depopulations by Siam) and ethnically diverse, with the politically and economically dominant ethnic Lao comprising barely half of the population (see ‘The Past’ and ‘The People’). A larger proportion of the ethnic Lao inhabited the north-eastern (Isan) region of Siam than Laos (Wolfson-Ford 2024). These peculiar demographic aspects, along with Laos’s highland topography, cultural resilience and socio-political dynamics, have characterised the historical trajectory of Lao Studies until the present day.
Although this Handbook focuses on contemporary Laos, several chapters consider the historical patterns that have shaped modern Laos and its place in the region and world. Creak and Wolfson-Ford’s ‘The Past’ argues that military conflicts were instrumental in shaping Laos, yet the Lao retained considerable agency and autonomy as they drew on colonialism, anti-colonialism, nationalism and socialism to forge a modern nation. As well as outlining the population’s diverse ethnic composition, Vatthana Pholsena (‘The People’) demonstrates how the ‘multi-ethnic Lao people’—the LPDR’s characteristic rendering of the national citizenry—emerged historically and ideologically due to the demands of nationalism. Eschewing essentialised understandings of the country’s territoriality, Philip Hirsch’s ‘Places’ shows likewise that the national territory of Laos has been created both relationally and historically. John Holt (‘Lao Religious Culture’), besides outlining the ontologies of Buddhism and phi or spirit religion, surveys the history of state-sangha relations, including efforts by Lao rulers and states to suppress spirit worship. Norihiko Yamada (‘The Party’) introduces the history of the Lao People’s Revolutionary Party (LPRP), the country’s most important political institution, together with its organisational framework, governance mechanism and strategy for legitimation. Many other chapters provide related historical insights.
Since the French established the term ‘Laos’ for its colonial possessions between the Mekong and the Truong Son mountain range—in the sense of Land of the Lao, i.e. Lao people—there have been at least two distinct ways to understand what is meant by ‘Lao Studies’: research on the nation-state of Laos (and its antecedents) and that on the sub-group of the Tai-Kadai ethno-linguistic family that is also known as ‘Lao’ (see ‘The People’). Either way, Lao Studies has only recently begun to emerge as an institutionalised field, having hitherto formed part of Southeast Asian studies and other related disciplines. Lao Studies has also comprised part of broader regional studies such as Tai Studies (referring to the language) or even Thai Studies (referring to studies of Thailand), thus revealing notional regional hierarchies—political and academic—that tend, unsurprisingly, to offend Lao nationalist sensitivities.
Against this background, the past two decades have seen significant efforts to organise and define Lao Studies as a distinct field of academic research and public engagement, particularly in the United States. This includes the International Conference on Lao Studies (ICLS), first held at Northern Illinois University in 2005 and conducted a further seven times since then (in the US, Thailand, Australia and Germany); the Center for Lao Studies (CLS), a California-based not-for-profit formed by scholars and diasporic Lao in 2006, which seeks to promote Lao academic and cultural activities, including the ICLS; and the open-access Journal of Lao Studies (JLS), established by the CLS in 2010. While largely an international and diasporic initiative—with little input from the LPDR itself—these endeavours have helped to make Laos and Lao Studies more visible outside the country itself.
Aiming to avoid an ethnic-Lao cultural and linguistic bias, the CLS, ICLS and JLS have adopted a broad and inclusive definition of Lao Studies encompassing studies of Laos, the Lao, the Lao diaspora and non-Lao ethnic groups from Laos (including those in the diaspora). This notion of Lao Studies encompasses all ethnic identities of Laos, in a similar sense to the LPDR’s notion of paxaxon lao banda phao (the ‘multi-ethnic Lao people’), while also recognising diverse diasporic communities. Still, contradictions remain that reflect the ambiguities of the Lao nation-state. We may observe a contrast, for example, between public commitments to ethnic diversity and trends towards Lao-Buddhist cultural hegemony (Goudineau 2012). At the National University of Laos, classical Lao language and literature classes receive more attention than ethnic minority languages. Another contradiction exists between studies of Laos within Laos and those outside the country. Studies on history, politics and economics by Laos-based scholars still receive little reception outside the country itself. Meanwhile, lingering sensitivities would appear to make a Laos-based ICLS unlikely in the foreseeable future.
Nevertheless, Lao studies has certainly emancipated itself from the limits of Tai/Thai Studies. With scholars paying particular attention to non-Lao-Tai-speaking cultural contexts, the field increasingly reflects and does justice to the ethnic complexity of Laos (see ‘The People’). Many recent book-length studies appearing in the field focus specifically on non-Lao-Tai populations (e.g., Bouté 2018, Petit 2020, Stolz 2021, Rowedder 2021, High 2022). And yet they still pay attention to socio-political dynamics within the Lao PDR that are marked, as in earlier periods, by the key tension between ideas of ‘civilised’ (sivilai) culture, national development and cultural ‘backwardness.’
Emerging from Laos’s rich ethno-linguistic diversity, many of this Handbook’s chapters revolve around contested themes of unity and difference, repetition and change. These are classic topics in the study of Southeast Asia. Nations in the region are linguistically, culturally and religiously diverse, yet seek to create and propagate a coherent sense of national unity (see ‘The People’). These nations also attempt to protect and promote strong domestic cultural traditions while embarking on ambitious development arcs. Laos is no different. In this volume, chapters on ethnicity and language (Pholsena, Badenoch, Enfield and Zuckerman), religion (Holt), livelihoods (Bouté), arts and crafts (Lissoir) and gender (Faming and Huijsmans)—among others—revolve around such themes of unity and difference.
In engaging such themes, some contributors use this Handbook develop notable new conceptual arguments and other original interpretations. Linguists Nick Enfield and Chip Zuckerman (‘Languages’) introduce the concept of ‘interoperability’ as a new way to understand diversity and translatability among languages in Laos. In her account of arts and crafts, anthropologist Marie-Pierre Lissoir (‘Weaving around the Model’) proposes ‘the model’ as a compelling theory for accounting for both the uniqueness of each cultural product, and yet the recognisability of these as indicative of larger ethnic styles or repertoires. Anthropologists Holly High and Penny Van Esterik (‘Food and Nutrition’) draw on observations gleaned from a wide range of sources to weave together a rare attempt at a comprehensive account of food in Laos, from weaning to concepts of power, showing the importance to food and health of local ingenuity and adaptability.
Other authors, exploring similar cultural dialectics, zoom in on relevant real-world examples, giving a valuable picture of life as lived in Laos today. Linguist and anthropologist Nathan Badenoch (‘Interethnic Relations’), deftly describing largely tension-free inter-ethnic relations in Laos, details real world examples of everyday realities of such relations among the ethnic Bit, Kim Mun and Sida with whom he works, giving a textured insight into how such relations unfold through language on the ground. Manynooch Faming and Roy Huijsmans provide vital explication of gender in Laos, illustrating not just how the word has been translated, but also how gender unfolds in real-world relationships (‘Gender’). Agricultural policy specialists Clemens Grünbühel and Oulavanh Sinsamphanh (‘Environmental Sustainability’) consider the potential for ecological diversity to serve as a source of community resilience. Exploring the possibilities of environmental sustainability in Laos, these authors zoom in on a particular case study, Meuang Feuang, as an example of how environmental change is experienced in one community.
In other chapters dealing with topics related to diversity, resilience and change, leading scholars condense their earlier ground-breaking work for Handbook readers. John Holt, for instance, reprises his seminal insights about the uncommon inter-relationship between spirit religion and Buddhism in Laos. The almost universal propitiation of spirits among the peoples of Laos, despite state efforts to suppress them, contributes to a common thread of understanding among Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike. In her chapter on ‘Social Relations,’ Rosalie Stolz considers kinship relations, spanning both the spirit and non-spirit worlds, and identifies commonalities and differences among Laos’s diverse population that often cut across ethnic groups. Stolz also shows slippage between social and state relations, or how the state is socialised.
Just as Laos’s cultural and linguistic diversity has attracted much attention from the international academic community, so has the country’s tragic history. The Second Indochina War made Laos, per capita, the most bombed country in the world (see ‘The Past’). The war continues to inform present-day political patterns such as the enduring power of the LPRP (see ‘The Party’) and relationships with neighbouring countries (see ‘Lao Foreign Relations,’ ‘The “Special” Laos-Vietnam Relationship’). With the communist revolution, around 10 percent of the population left Laos, creating a large global diaspora (this in addition to the already large Lao-speaking population in northeast Thailand) (see ‘Diaspora’). Recent trends that recognise cultural diversity and regional identity, for instance among Lao- and Khmer-speaking groups in Isan, have resulted in overlap between Thai/Tai Studies and Lao Studies, stimulating new dynamics and collaboration between research institutions in Laos and Thailand. If sometimes remaining a sub-field in larger area-based academic frameworks, Lao Studies remains an informative one given its unique historical and ethno-linguistic characteristics, and the insights it provides to broader regional studies.
What is left?
Given that the Handbook was timed, mindfully if not purposively, to appear in the year marking 50 years of the Lao PDR, it is perhaps not surprising that many authors reflected on the results of this past half-century. Given the controversy around the establishment and contemporary developments of the Lao PDR, it is also of little surprise that these reflections demonstrate a range of sometimes incompatible views. There are significant differences—even antagonisms—between the views suggested in the chapters that follow. These are important differences. As editors, we were aware of them when we commissioned the diversity of writers presented here, and these differences presented themselves again through the internal-but-blind review process. We chose not to impose a single viewpoint, but to allow each author to speak in their own voice. Rather than seeking a unity (a unity which in any case would be false) we sought to foster space for authors to articulate reasoned and evidenced arguments, without foreclosing any given view as a priori false based on our own preconceived professional or personal views on these topics.
Nevertheless, reviewing the chapters of the Handbook as a whole, we were struck that despite the diversity we intentionally commissioned, the chapters coalesced on a broadly progressive or ‘left’-leaning set of values. We hasten to add that this left-leaning tone is not explicit: most academic writing does not directly disclose the political sentiments of the author, aiming instead for a neutral, scientific tone. The chapters in this Handbook spend most of their time presenting narratives and analysing topics matter-of-factly and descriptively. Nevertheless, we venture to state that a progressive tilt becomes apparent on a close reading of the chapters that follow, particularly where the authors present an assessment or argument. Analysing the chapters as a snapshot of ‘what is left?’ provides valuable insights into the politics of contemporary knowledge production.
Of course, left and right politics are notoriously hard to define. We are reminded of Justice Potter Stewart’s comment on how he identifies obscenity: ‘I know it when I see it.’ Notwithstanding this difficulty—particularly in an era when progressive political forces have embraced neoliberalism, and cultural identities have often dislodged class and materialism as the basis of political identification—there have been credible recent attempts to define left and right politics. Below, we give three examples and identify the common ground between them as a means of developing a tentative framework for analysing the values expressed across the chapters of this Handbook.
Philosopher Noberto Bobbio defines the left as a political platform coalescing around equality. The fundamental assumption in left politics is that equality is desirable and largely a social question that can be advanced through social measures. The right, by contrast, views inequality as inevitable and as anyway largely desirable. Anthropologist David Graeber offers a slightly different explanation of the enduring dichotomy between left and right. According to him, the left’s underlying belief is an ontological one: that the ‘hidden truth of the world is that it is something that we make, and could just as easily make differently’ (2009, 514). For the right, by contrast, the ultimate hidden truth is an ugly one about human nature (2009, 510), particularly violence and self-interest, which are assumed to be laws much like the law of gravity. Linguist George Lakoff, meanwhile, suggests that left and right draw on underlying metaphors that reflect different value systems. The right deploys a ‘strict father’ morality that assumes society is harsh, unforgiving and competitive and therefore children/citizens/nations must learn to operate as self-sufficient, disciplined and independent entities. Progressives, by contrast, employ (or—Lakoff suggests—ought to employ) a ‘nurturant parent’ metaphor whereby interdependence is assumed to be a common and positive part of human nature, and therefore skills for functioning as part of relationships—such as sharing, helping and working for collective goals—are cultivated in children/citizens/nations.
Each of these attempts to locate the underlying logics of right and left politics have merit, although a full description, assessment, critique and comparison of these is beyond the scope of this introduction. Leaving aside for now the apparent contradictions between them, some commonalities are evident and can assist in building a provisional answer to our question ‘what is left?’ Reading across these definitions, the left appears as a broad politics of compassion based on an underlying optimistic view of human nature. It assumes that where poor outcomes exist, these can potentially be addressed through better social action. Suffering is perceived not as an inevitable result of human nature or other natural laws, but as a contingent result of social conditions, and furthermore that these social conditions can be changed. Suffering is perceived not only in obvious examples (poverty or exploitation for instance) but also where there are inequalities between social groups, such as between men and women, rural and urban, or different ethnic groups. Difference is celebrated for the diversity it brings to society, but where difference translates into social inequality, this is perceived as a problem to be rectified through conscious social action. The key player in this is most typically the state, although it can also be other authorities such as household heads or employers.
Defined this way, we believe authors would not object to our view that a generally left-leaning politics is discernible across the chapters in this collection. Where authors express a preference rather than stating facts, it is generally in the way of support for social measures that advance equality, such as poverty reduction, environmental and social protections, democratic institutions, and public investment in education, health and welfare. No contributor to this collection endorses Laos’s rising inequality, or demands the state get tough on crime or women return to the home. This may indicate an oversight on the part of the editors, in that we may have tended to select broadly left-leaning authors. But we suspect that what it actually indicates is that, overall, the tone of Lao Studies is left leaning. The values of our field are generally found on the left.
Despite the wide variety of backgrounds among the authors, the writers contributing to this collection express a recurrent and shared concern about equality. Wilcox and Sinsamphanh (‘Adapting to Climate Change’), for instance, note with concern that climate change impacts vulnerable communities disproportionately. Kathryn Sweet (‘Health’) opens her chapter by quoting the common Lao saying that ‘The rich never go to prison, the poor never go to hospital.’ She adopts this as an apt critique of a social situation (inequality) which ought to be challenged. Despite prevailing health inequalities—often resulting from structural and historical challenges—equality in healthcare is also a key plank of Lao PDR health policy. Miles Kenney-Lazar (‘Land’), likewise, opens with a clear call for ‘the persistence of broad-based and relatively equitable access to land that had historically been the norm in the country’—despite his conclusion that land in Laos is today a source of inequality and conflict. Here, again, equality appears as a value shared by both the Lao PDR and the author, despite challenges in achieving it.
Juliet Lu and Cecile Friis (‘Cash Crops’) document the expansion of commodity crops in Laos, noting with concern the association of cash cropping with increased inequality between households. They note with approval the moves—however tentative—by the Lao state towards ‘Responsible Agricultural Investment’ aimed at slowing and better governing commercial agriculture. Jonathan Rigg (‘Poverty’), while highlighting the government’s remarkable progress in reducing income poverty over several decades, also raises concerns about deepening inequality in Laos—which is made more evident when measured more holistically—and argues that significantly more progress could have been made in this area.
Faming and Huijsmans note that gender equality is ‘mainstreamed in the political system’ of Laos but, at the same time, many barriers to gender equality persist. Pholsena writes that ‘the realisation of “unity on the basis of equality” across the “multi-ethnic Lao people” remains an uphill task,’ suggesting she endorses the Lao PDR’s goals of unity and equality among the various ethnicities of Laos. Her divergence from the government seems to be not so much its goals as its methods of going about attaining them. Pholsena approves of the literacy campaigns but criticises the ‘coercion’ used to requisition labour for national reconstruction directly after the war. The chapters generally express concern for welfare—of people, forests and waterways—and support compassionate, peaceful and democratic action.
This collection can be read, then, as a group of generally left-leaning scholars commenting on key topics in what can also be considered a left-leaning country. Lao PDR is, after all, one of the few actually existing examples we have of a country run along Marxist-Leninist lines. Party and state discourses are replete with messages emphasising the values of unity and equality. Nevertheless, contributors to this volume differ in their representation and understanding of the Lao political system. Some follow the LPRP itself in describing the country as ‘socialist’ (e.g. High et al, Kenney-Lazar, Baird) while some point to historical variations in Lao socialism, including fluctuations in ideological intensity (Creak and Wolfson-Ford). Others, given the LPRP’s introduction of market principles soon after the 1975 revolution, disagree with the notion that Laos is socialist: Paul David Lutz (‘Media’) calls Laos ‘nominally’ socialist while Supitcha Punya (‘Development and Legitimacy’), citing terminology used by Lao officials, suggests Laos ‘finds itself at the crossroads between socialism and capitalism.’ Yamada (‘The Party’), meanwhile, argues ‘socialism’ has lost its ‘concrete meaning’ and is now a long-term ‘ultimate goal’ and ‘ideal,’ not ‘an achievable national goal in the medium term.’
This range of views raises an interesting question: how do left-leaning scholars react when a real-world Marxist-Leninist state presents itself? This real-world entity, like any real-world entity, differs markedly from ideal archetypes. Such divergence has long attracted criticism, particularly from Marxists themselves. Losurdo notes that European philosophers, especially avowed ‘Marxists’—such as Theodore Adorno, Max Horkheimer, Herbert Marcuse, Antonio Negri, Alain Badiou and Slavoj Zizek—have discounted every actually existing Marxist-Leninist state as irrelevant for real Marxism. In 1968, while the United States was bombarding Laos, Horkheimer chose not to decry US imperialism but denounce ‘totalitarianism’ in China and the Soviet Union. In the same year, Herbert Marcuse came up with the idea of ‘Eastern totalitarianism’ to describe the Asian socialist states, a concept that directly replays orientalist assumptions that nothing but despotism comes from the east (Losurdo 2024, 130-137). As Losurdo notes, it often seems leftists in the West support leftist anti-colonial rebellions and revolutions ever so long as they don’t win (2024, 83).
When they do win, revolutionary movements face the worldly challenges of building and running a state that often take them far from any initial idealistic aims. Real-world socialist states, for instance, have struggled to retain their hard-won independence in the face of a largely hostile global environment, not to mention foreign-supported counter-revolutionary forces (see ‘Lao Foreign Policy,’ ‘Diaspora’). As opposed to the vaunted ‘withering away of the state,’ nationalism and statecraft have been important in real-world socialism because real-world socialism has often been characterised by anti-colonial struggles. Laos has expressed this in part in its acute drive for national economic development since the 1975 revolution (Creak and Barney 2022). This imperative is understandable if we consider that neo-colonialism in the late 20th and early 21st centuries presented largely in the form of economic domination rather than outright political control (although this, too, appears to be changing).
The drive to develop risks inequality, environmental degradation, and foreign debt, as documented extensively in the chapters on natural resources and the economy. In his scene-setting chapter on ‘Places,’ Hirsch highlights the key tension between development and dispossession that characterises the LPDR’s resource extractivism. Chapters on specific natural resource sectors reveal the complexity of these dilemmas. While noting the government’s commitment to enhancing land access, Kenney-Lazar (‘Land’) concludes that commodification has made land a source of conflict and inequality. Diana Suhardiman (‘Water and Hydropower’) documents the promises and limits of people’s participation in water management in Laos, fleshing this description out with details of the Pak Beng hydropower project in Laos. Juliet Lu and Cecile Friis (‘Cash Crops’) provide a comprehensive survey of cash cropping, zooming in on Ban Huay Man as a real-world example of the complex texture of any given case. Hilary Smith and Somvang Phimmavong (‘Forests and Forestry’) identify structural factors, including state desires for modernisation, individual aspirations and global capital, that curtail the progressive intentions of policy agendas.
The debate between differing definitions of democracy has been fundamental to Laos’s contemporary history. During the Lao civil war between 1945 and 1975 there was an efflorescence of democratic thinking in Laos, with Marxist-Leninists, rightists and neutralists each seemingly committed to democracy, but with different (even antagonistic) definitions of it (see ‘The Past’). Lao socialism is underpinned by democratic centralism (see ‘Decision Making’). This mode of decision making should include extensive consultation in the lead up to a decision being adopted, and in that sense be ‘democratic’ (even in the absence of multiple political parties). Once a decision is made, no further disagreement is permitted. Under democratic centralism, unity is the end goal of decision-making. Some authors in this collection argue that developmental policies have resulted in the dispossession of traditional landowners and land-users, suggesting that the LPRP’s emphasis on unity effectively limits accountability (‘Places,’ ‘Land’). In this way, debates about what really counts as ‘democracy’ and a left-leaning politics continue to the present day in Lao studies, often lending passion and animation to what could otherwise be dry academic accounts.
Questions of Power, Politics and Policy
Reading this Handbook shows that there is no consensus in the global left about Laos’s leftist credentials. Even within the writing of individual scholars, there is often no single standpoint on how to assess the achievements and shortcomings of the Lao PDR. One reason for this diversity is the variety of disciplinary approaches and norms employed by the Handbook’s authors. Some of the chapters assembled here employ terms associated with regime-type analysis, which can appear openly critical of the Lao PDR. Such scholars tend to call the Lao PDR ‘the regime,’ the Lao People’s Revolutionary Party ‘the ruling party’ and the state ‘authoritarian.’ In his chapter on ‘The Party,’ for example, which condenses his earlier article on party reforms (Yamada 2018), Norihiko Yamada cites the ‘conventional wisdom in comparative politics’ that the primary goal of a ‘one-party dictatorship is to ensure the longevity of the regime.’ Because he defines the Lao PDR as such a dictatorship, Yamada subordinates the expressed goals of the Lao PDR—such as equality, independence and unity—to this externally imposed one. Aurel Croissant and Carmen Wintergerst, in their valuable account of the Lao military—including its historical evolution, multiple roles and structural relationship to the LPRP—similarly describe Laos as a ‘communist autocracy,’ ‘authoritarian regime’ and as a ‘non-democracy.’
These terms have simple descriptive meanings in comparative politics; ‘authoritarian,’ for example, is typically defined as the absence of ‘free and fair elections’—i.e. liberal or multi-party democracy (though see Glasius 2018). Yet, it is notable that these terms are exonyms rather than endonyms. This can have the effect of categorising Lao institutions against an external normative standard (i.e. liberal democracy), which in turn can imply a moral judgement or deficiency. Conversely, these are not the terms that Lao political institutions employ to describe themselves. In fact, the specialist terminology of comparative politics can carry quite different meanings in Laos itself. ‘Authoritarian’ when it appears in Lao political magazines is often used to denote the likely end point of multi-party democracy. Such articles argue that under multi-party democracy, political parties represent specific class interests. Elections lead to the domination of one party’s or class’s interests over those of all others. The dominant party uses its time in power to cement its interests, over time seizing entrenched control where one class dominates. This is ‘authoritarianism’ in a LPRP view, and precisely what the Lao revolution continues to fight against.
Another fundamental political concept used widely in this Handbook is ‘legitimacy.’ Although this concept provides an alternative to regime-type analysis—since all political cultures need to consider legitimacy—focusing on state efforts to secure popular consent to govern can overshadow expressed policy intentions, such as serving the population, pursuing laudable aims or attaining Marxist-Leninist goals. For instance, Soulatha Sayalath (‘Lao Foreign Policy’) describes the ‘omnidirectional’ foreign policy of Laos, whereby peace and co-operation is pursued with all nations, as a strategy for buttressing legitimacy upon the withdrawal of Soviet support in the 1980s—not simply (as he also shows) as a desirable foreign policy platform at a time of global change. Supitcha Punya (‘Development and Legitimacy’) argues that ‘party-led development’ under the LPRP has been key to buttressing regime legitimacy since the economic reforms. Relatedly, Yamada (‘The Party’) argues that the intensification of socialist ideology during times of crisis suggests the strategic aim of reinforcing legitimacy at moments of political uncertainty and vulnerability.
Yet these and other scholars can also be conciliatory towards the Lao PDR. Many authors point out the complexity of decision-making processes, which belie simple categorisation as authoritarian or democratic. Paul David Lutz (‘Media’), for instance, while providing a dispassionate description of the core features of media in Laos today, also ventures an argument against those who imagine that the state exercises absolute control over media. He depicts a more complex reality where media, while always serving the ‘transformative agenda and rule’ of the LPRP, is surprisingly responsive as well as repressive. Smith and Phimmavong (‘Forests and Forestry’), likewise, acknowledge the Lao state’s very real commitments to sometimes conflicting developmentalist goals, goals which they speak of not simply as claims to legitimacy but as legitimate aspirations. They conclude that ‘finding nuanced ways to balance the realisation of the diverse values of forests with Laos’s increasing social and environmental commitments is challenging.’
Holly High, Souphinh Vongphachanh, Vilaythieng Sisouvong, and Souliyong Thammavong (‘Decision Making’) take seriously the Lao PDR’s commitment to democratic centralism as a political philosophy that underpins observable techniques of decision making, tracing out how it manifests in day-to-day settings such as consultation meetings and strategy formation. They do not dismiss the Lao PDR’s claims to be a democracy as mere propaganda or empty rhetoric but investigate how democracy is defined in this context and how it operates to provide accountability in observable real-life situations. By moving beyond the narrow, normative test of ‘free and fair elections,’ the presence of such mechanisms highlights features of Lao democracy that challenge the country’s categorisation as ‘authoritarian.’ As in any political system, these mechanisms do not always function as intended. In another context, Diana Suhardiman (‘Water’) attends to the complex array of individual negotiations with hydropower resettlement schemes. She concludes that inequities in these schemes result from deficiencies in transparency and administrative support for collective action in negotiation—not from ‘authoritarianism’ or nefarious plots or schemes.
Several chapters express optimism about the future of the Lao PDR. Grünbühel and Oulavanh (‘Sustainable Green Growth’), for instance, end on a hopeful note that Laos could become the ‘green lungs of Asia.’ Kazuo Fukuda (‘Constitutional and Legal Reform’), reports that the steps towards creating a ‘rule-of-law state’ have been tangible and positive. Badenoch (‘Interethnic Relations’) comments that overall, ethnic relations are remarkably cohesive in Laos. Given that Laos is even more ethnically diverse on some measures than either Myanmar or Thailand (where inter-ethnic conflict has for decades caused immense suffering), it is remarkable that inter-ethnic strife is not only rare in Laos, but that a kind of friendly interaction is typical (as also described in the chapters ‘People’ and ‘Languages’).
Some authors, after giving a generally positive review of recent developments in Laos, still end on a dismal note. Fukuda, although acknowledging the significance of recent ‘positive developments’ in legal and constitutional reforms, reflects that these embody a ‘pragmatist approach that the Party has taken with initiatives and reforms that are not necessarily in line with its communist ideology.’ Sweet (‘Health’), although outlining the Lao PDR’s important achievements in improving health outcomes and even eradicating yaws, and noting its commitment to equality in health access, nevertheless ends with a repeated caution that this goal is difficult to achieve, and health gains may be reversed. Kenney-Lazar (‘Land’), despite noting the government’s commitment to land access, laments that land has recently been reallocated from peasants to capitalists. In short, mixed feelings arise from a sympathy with many of the professed goals of the Lao PDR alongside trepidation about what has occurred on the ground.
The chapters in this volume operate within a field of political tension, shaped by the legacies of colonialism, civil war, communist revolution and contested nation-building. As the preceding discussion illustrates, these tensions have long spilled into the academic domain, and they continue to do so. This frame of political contestation applies more to some chapters and themes than others. Many chapters resist categorisation due to their complex policy orientation or because they relate to an area of depoliticised technical knowledge. Such chapters, several of which represent ground-breaking surveys of understudied topics, illustrate the great deepening and diversification of Lao Studies since the turn of the century.
Several chapters examine the complex changes to the economy, particularly since the consolidation of market reforms, highlighting both achievements and challenges. In an invaluable overview, Sithanonxay Suvannaphakdy (‘Economy’) surveys improvements to aggregate and per capita GDP, life expectancy and the poverty headcount rate, and examines the reforms and sectoral shifts that have underpinned this progress. He also examines the complex factors—long-term and short-term, internal and external—behind the inflation, currency and debt crises that have struck Laos since the COVID-19 pandemic. Zooming into the individual level, Vanina Bouté’s ‘Livelihoods,’ informed by many years of fieldwork in the highlands of Laos, considers how these changes have affected people’s livelihoods and subsistence strategies. While agricultural activity remains widespread, younger people seek education and alternatives. With opportunities limited, especially in the desirable civil service, this search often leads to migration—both within Laos and to Thailand.
Suvannaphakdy highlights the mixed ledger of Laos’s environmental health. This variation reminds us of the complex policy issues surrounding the natural resources sectors, discussed earlier, which have driven Laos’s rising economic fortunes while also presenting difficult socio-environmental dilemmas. This field will only continue to grow in importance, as anthropologist Phil Wilcox and Oulavanh Sinsamphanh (‘Adapting to Climate Change’) stress in their pioneering foray into climate change in Laos—a topic of considerable interest given the increasing frequency of extreme weather events. Although Laos is not a major contributor to changing climatic conditions, its reliance on agriculture, particularly for employment, makes it highly vulnerable to the impacts of climate change. Adaptation presents a pressing challenge, a sobering contrast to Grünbühel and Sinsamphanh’s more optimistic tone (‘Environmental Sustainability’).
Other chapters drill more deeply into specific economic sectors. Vilavong and Keola (‘Foreign Trade and Investment’) highlight the importance of Laos’s expanding trade and investment relations since the 1990s, particularly with neighbouring countries (China, Thailand and Vietnam), while highlighting the need to diversify its trade partnerships and the sectors foreign investment is concentrated in. These authors also highlight the impressive impact of the Laos-China Railway (LCR) on Lao trade, despite widespread fears at its high cost. Focusing on the logistics sector, Ruth Bannomyong (‘Regional Connectivity’), an experienced scholar of Laos’s regional engagement, demonstrates the pressing need for domestic institutional reforms for the country to benefit from infrastructural advances like the LCR. Andrea Haefner (‘International Development Cooperation’) examines the enduring importance of overseas development assistance (ODA) to Laos’s economy, alongside different institutional mechanisms for managing ODA and the increasing proportion that is derived from south-south cooperation.
As these chapters stress, Laos’s changing economy is closely connected to its foreign relations. Soulatha Sayalath (‘Lao Foreign Policy’) summarises the LPRP’s foreign policy shifts since 1975 and especially 1986, when it adopted its omnidirectional policy opening the country to all foreign partners. This decisive shift, which led to the normalisation of relations with China, Thailand and the United States, were driven by domestic imperatives. Ian Baird (‘Diaspora’) charts the creation of Laos’s large diasporic communities, particularly among the Lao and Hmong ethnic groups, and their extensive involvement in the anti-LPDR resistance movements based in Thailand and China prior to relations with those countries being normalised. Martin Rathie and Oliver Tappe (‘The “Special’ Laos-Vietnam Relationship’) explore the historical trajectory of the single foreign relationship that has spanned the entire history of the Lao communist movement—the ‘special relationship’ with Vietnam—and show how this has shaped Laos’s history since the 1930s. Apart from shedding light on Laos itself, then, the Handbook contributes to broader understandings of the region, offering fresh insights into mainland Southeast Asian studies and relations with both China and the US.
What is next?
The Handbook brings together a multitude of disciplines and authors from or based in at least 12 countries (including Lao PDR, Thailand, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Australia, the United States, Japan, Indonesia, Singapore, Canada and Hong Kong), making this a truly global collection. The result, we believe, is a rich and varied Handbook that demonstrates the diversity and breadth of the study of Laos today. None of us as editors agree with all the sentiments expressed in this volume. We do agree, however, that forums like this Handbook—forums which facilitate expression of a diversity of sentiments on key topics—are vital for the study of Laos as a field of rational and reasoned debate. A Handbook is not a forum for staged debates, but we are pleased that we have succeeded in showing here some of the diversity of voices in Lao Studies today, a diversity which itself is a sign of a healthily non-homogenous academic field.
Finally, and in lieu of a conclusion, we offer reflections on avenues for future research on Laos that emerged from the chapters assembled in this handbook. First and foremost, in creating this collection we felt an opening up. Even if contributors did not agree with one another, they were agreeable to listening to one another. Some of the rawness of the war and post-war years has faded (as Baird also notes in his chapter on ‘Diaspora’). Eyes are turned very much towards the future. Even so, debates about how to best describe politics in Laos remain unresolved. Most authors offer both kudos for the achievements made by the Lao PDR alongside a good dose of criticism. One future avenue for research on Laos is greater attention to the evaluative language applied in the scholarship of Laos. Badenoch in this volume shows language is not neutral when he gives an example of an autonym employed in an inter-ethnic encounter instead of an exonym. Likewise, when we speak about Laos, we do more than convey facts. Through our choice of words and topics, we also convey fears, fantasies and fictions. Attending to such choices is a valuable possible future direction for research.
Secondly, it is clear that equating Lao studies with ‘The authoritative universal voice—usually white male subjectivity masquerading as non-racial, non-gendered objectivity’ (Crenshaw 1989, 154) is definitively a thing of the past. The authors in this volume speak from a variety of standpoints and perspectives, and this trend is likely to continue. There is ample room for more diversity in Lao studies in coming years. As editors pursuing a diversity of contributors, we found that some perspectives remain especially marginalised. Queer, nonbinary and disability perspectives on Laos remain hard to find and likely provide fertile grounds for future research. Also, greater inclusion of authors hailing from a wider variety of national backgrounds, such as BRICs countries, is a promising future direction for the field.
Third, as discussed earlier in this introduction, the chapters in this volume demonstrate the contextual richness of Laos for studying themes of unity and difference, repetition and change—classic topics in the study of Southeast Asia. Perhaps some of the methods used in this Handbook (both established and new) for thinking about these themes, which have emerged from the study of the cultures and ethnicities in the region, can be applied in the future to new challenges (like climate change) along with persistent ones (like inequality)? If we can be permitted to dream for a moment, our hope is that Lao Studies might produce concepts and insights that not only advance understandings of this particular country, but also contribute novel concepts useful for facing the core challenges of our times.
We hope that the collection will be received as a milestone in the study of Laos. It marks a moment of time—50 years since the establishment of the Lao PDR—when the study of Laos is rich and vibrant. We imagine that many readers may dip into this Handbook to read chapters on topics of particular or pressing interest to them, perhaps as a launching point for wider investigation. In this sense, this Handbook is intended as something of a reference book, a port of first call for scholars new to the field or wishing to understand how certain topics are approached by specialist scholars of Laos. But other readers, we hope, will approach the Handbook as a whole, as we did. For those readers, we hope also that the Handbook will stand as a valuable snapshot of the current state of the field, which might provide a reference point for similar volumes—and snapshots—in decades to come.
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