This chapter provides a practitioner’s point of view on diplomatic images. The author is positioned to give a unique perspective as a freelance photographer who is currently based in Singapore, which has recently become a significant city-state for major global diplomatic events. Through his first-hand experiences of covering high-profile international diplomatic events, such as the 2018 Trump-Kim Summit held in Singapore, the author takes us backstage and demonstrates how famous diplomatic images are produced to represent the affective register of the moment. In so doing, the chapter illuminates the situational context of the photographer in taking diplomatic images, offering insight into the editorial process in which diplomatic images are produced by the media.

Why should we take visual sources more seriously in our study of global diplomacy? The innovative approach presented in this volume involves using a wide range of visual sources, such as photographs, paintings, films, and material culture, to reveal how these sources can help to illuminate symbolic aspects of diplomacy that textual sources alone may not be able to do. Visual sources can reveal hidden stories and, importantly, help to de-centre the prevailing preconceptions about the nature of global diplomacy and its power dynamics. The unravelling of symbolisms can add cultural depth to the staging of global diplomacy. The approach introduces a host of diplomatic actors often neglected by scholars, including Southeast Asian leaders, female personalities, and crowds of onlookers. Each chapter, which includes examples of intra-Asia diplomacy as well as Asian diplomacy with Western societies, demonstrates the critical role played by visual sources to the field of diplomatic culture.

Diplomatic images are not mere visual archives of past encounters; they are complicit in how the past is framed, memorialized, and reproduced in the service of contemporary raison d’état. This chapter is about one such instance of complicity. It tracks the afterlife of an image of five ministers from Cold War Southeast Asia – all male, in Western business suits, and bespectacled – signing the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) into existence in Bangkok in 1967. More than any other, this image has been reproduced and disseminated to symbolize ASEAN: from book covers and commemorative stamps to television reports and even a commissioned painting. This image gives contemporary ASEAN a satisfying origin myth – of five ‘founding fathers’ forging diplomatic reconciliation in the aftermath of militarized inter-state conflict in a region marked as exceptionally diverse along racial, religious, cultural, and linguistic registers. But the image – and the props and performance it captures – contains within it the seeds of an alternative reading that puts this origin myth to lie. The chapter argues that far from embodying such exceptional and heroic diversity, the image tells us what was profoundly (and problematically) similar among these diplomatic performers than what the contemporary discourse on ASEAN reveals.

On 23 July 1980, Vietnamese pilot Phạm Tuân became the first Asian and the first citizen of a developing nation to fly in space when he participated in the Soyuz 37 mission to the Salyut space station. This elaborately staged, hugely expensive piece of cosmic theatre underlined Eastern bloc mastery of the technologies of space flight at the same time it emphasized international cooperation, social and racial inclusiveness, and engagement with the developing world. As much as Phạm Tuân’s flight formed part of the Eastern bloc’s global diplomatic strategies, it was also central to a vision of the new Socialist Republic of Vietnam as part of a revolutionary vanguard, defeating the forces of capitalism and imperialism and progressing towards a modern, industrialized, and prosperous future under the leadership of the Communist party. This chapter explores how representations of Phạm Tuân ’s historic space flight drew from conventional Soviet representations of cosmonauts and space flight, but also reflected particular Vietnamese cultures and contexts. The result sheds light on the important, but often overlooked cultural dimension of state power in late socialist Vietnam, and highlights not just the limits but also the potential to create a coherent, shared vision of the nation.

Britain remained the world’s superpower in 1931, so how did it lose its Empire, become dependent upon the USA and reimagine itself as a European nation by 1976 and how did Briton’s respond?

This chapter canvasses coalitions for and against pluralism that emerged with the foundation of the Republic of Turkey. It shows that while the early nation-builders pursued a unitary, ethno-nationalist project, Kemalism also entailed an “embedded liberalism” inherited from late Ottoman modernization, including resources for eventual democratization. Throughout the twentieth century, political actors sought to mobilize these resources toward pluralizing the political system across a series of critical junctures (e.g., the 1920s’ cultural revolution; the 1950 transition to multiparty democracy; successive coups in 1960, 1971, and 1980; and a 1997 “postmodern coup.”) Across these junctures, the chapter argues, there were only two pronounced periods of secularist/Islamist cleavages. More often, conflict was driven by significant, cross-camp cooperation and intra-camp rivalry. Tracing when and why pluralizing and anti-pluralist alignments succeeded or failed, the chapter captures a key dynamic: the installation of an ethno(-religious nationalist project – the Turkish-Islamic Synthesis (TIS) – as national project, even as ideas and actors invested in pluralization continued to mobilize.

During the war, American industries depended on a steady stream of Chinese hog bristles, tungsten and tin ore, alongside a whole host of other raw materials. This chapter focuses on how demand for these products prompted the US government to forge new connections to Chinese businessmen and government agencies. These connections served as the foundation for lucrative postwar trans-Pacific business networks between American and Chinese that enriched Chinese and American businessmen alike and continued throughout the 1940s. The Chinese case served as the blueprint for an idealized postwar economic order that, envisioned by Wilsonian liberals in the US government, was anchored by free trade, private business, and the circulation of American dollars.

This chapter looks at the ways how, from 1948 onwards, the meaning of the trials changed in light of the broader Cold War context internationally and intensifying criticism domestically. Administratively, the trials were coming to an end. They had, from the perspective of the public authorities, succeeded in their original purposes of securing inner peace and stability during the early months following the liberation. Yet, from 1948 onwards, they became acutely relevant in light of the new political threats and challenges the Norwegian state faced, at the same time as the authorities sought to defend their legacy in light of mounting criticism from some sentenced collaborators and public intellectuals. This chapter therefore argues that the final stages of the trials assumed a renewed demonstrative dimension as the government sought to reassert its administrative and interpretative authority over the trials in a changed political context.

Chapter 5 analyzes the evolving security structures in East Asia since the end of World War II. What counts as security for the countries in the region and beyond, and the policy choices made accordingly, have made East Asian security the way it is today. Evolution shapes every component of international security, specifically the nation, the nature of politics, and epistemology. Conventional security theories such as the security dilemma and alliance apply to East Asia partly because Western practice and theory have become parts of East Asian practice and theoretical thinking. At the same time, East Asia had a much longer history, and was not a blank canvas for outside influence. The mixture of the old and new explains why East Asian security concepts and practices seem partly familiar and partly strange, which is characteristic of East Asian international relations.

Initially neutral in the Second World War, Iran was drawn into the conflict due to its strategic location and economic importance, particularly its oil resources. After the German attack on the Soviet Union, Iran’s position south of the Soviet borders became crucial for supporting the eastern front. Consequently, British, and Soviet forces occupied Iran in August 1941, transforming it into the ‘Bridge of Victory.’ This geopolitical significance post-war laid the groundwork for the Cold War. The narrative then shifts to explore Iran’s role during and after the war, focusing on the Iranian oil industry. It delves into the working and living conditions of the oil workers, the organisation of labour, the rise of political radicalism, and the involvement of political parties. A detailed analysis of the bloodiest labour conflict in 1946 highlights the long-term impact of labour radicalism on the social lives of workers and probes the persistence of these radical movements. By connecting Iran’s wartime role to post-war developments, the analysis illuminates the profound effects of global conflicts on local industries and social structures.

Delving into ‘Development Sociology,’ the 1960s are labelled as the ‘Development Decade’ in United Nations parlance, a period recognised for its widespread economic and political reforms globally, particularly in the Global South. During this transformative period, a critical linguistic shift occurred: societies once labelled ‘underdeveloped’ were now referred to as ‘developing countries,’ a designation symbolising their potential to surmount longstanding economic stagnation and poverty. The driving forces behind this development were the developmental states, which, through authoritarian and swift modernisation efforts, aimed to ascend to the ranks of developed nations. Iran exemplified such nations, where a surge in oil revenues, significantly bolstered by OPEC, laid the foundation for rapid, albeit uneven, economic growth. This growth catalysed profound transformations in the working and living conditions of workers, particularly evident in Iran’s oil industry. Reflecting on this period, the examination of the daily lives of these workers reveals how the uneven pace of development markedly influenced their existence, offering insights into the intricate interplay between national development strategies and their palpable effects on the labour force amid global economic shifts.

This chapter introduces readers to the origins, conduct, and termination of the Third Indochina War. Marshaling old and new Vietnamese, Cambodian, Chinese, Soviet, American, and ASEAN sources, as well as the most recent secondary literature, the chapter takes an international history perspective, focusing on the simultaneous decision-making of all sides directly or indirectly involved in the conflict. It adopts a chronological approach following the life-cycle of the conflict by first locating the origins of both wars from the inter-connected perspectives of the three main protagonists – Vietnam, Cambodia, and China. Following that, the chapter describes the conduct of both wars and their eventual resolution. This involved, apart from the three main protagonists, the Soviet Union, the United States (and its allies). Although these countries were not directly involved in the fighting, they played a significant role in both prolonging the war and bringing about its end.

This chapter situates the communist victory in the Second Indochina War in the broader context of Third World revolution during the 1970s. It argues that 1975 represented a high-water mark of secular revolutionary activity in the global Cold War, and that the following years witnessed the retreat of left-wing revolutionary politics in the Global South. The period that followed saw the rise of a new model of political organization among Third World revolutionaries that largely abandoned secular progressive ideologies in favor of appeals to ethnic and sectarian identities as the basis of armed revolution. If Vietnamese communist fighters represented the archetype of Third World Revolutionaries in the long 1960s, the Afghan Mujahideen would come to symbolize the revolutionaries of the 1980s.

This chapter is focused on the “Secret War” in Laos, which began after the Second Geneva Accords of 1962 were signed, reaffirming Laos’ official neutrality, and ending with the signing of the Vientiane Agreement in 1973, which was designed to lay the groundwork for national reconciliation through establishing a coalition government. However, it instead eventually led to the communist Pathet Lao takeover of the country in mid 1975, and from then little-known but persistent armed conflict between communist forces and anti-communist insurgents continued after 1975. The overall goal of this chapter is to summarize the important circumstances associated with the war in Laos, something that has apparently not been done before. The war in Laos represents a tragedy for Laos and its people, regardless of what side of the political divide one was on. Those from all sides shed blood, and large numbers were displaced due to military conflict and aerial bombardment. The Secret War in Laos stretched for eleven years, between 1962 and 1973, but, as should be clear from this chapter, conflict actually raged, on and off, and to varying degrees in different parts of the country, for over fifty years, beginning in 1945.