The yen was supposed to rebound this year. Analysts spoke about a clear path. Japan would lift rates. Capital would return. The currency would climb. It felt like one of those stories everyone agreed on because agreeing felt safe. But the agreement has thinned out. Banks are lowering their forecasts. The surge idea has lost its center. The Bank of Japan stayed cautious. Inflation did not rise fast enough to force sharp policy changes. The Federal Reserve held firm longer than expected. Global growth signals softened. Investors looked around and realized the backdrop was different from what they had imagined. So the narrative shifted. Not in one headline. In tone. Markets rarely move on numbers alone. They move on the strength of belief. A currency gains when enough people decide it is the direction to move in. Once belief weakens, momentum fades. You see it in the slower pace of commentary. In forecasts softened by language. Analysts are replacing strong calls with conditional ones. Confidence leaks before anyone names it. This matters inside Japan. A weaker yen gives exporters room. Overseas earnings look stronger when converted back. Importers take on higher costs. Consumers feel it through smaller, steady increases in goods. Trade flows adjust as purchasing power shifts. The effects are steady and uneven. No drama. Just the weight moving from one side of the table to the other. Here is the part that feels important. A currency outlook is not only about economics. It reflects how a country sees its timing. Japan is still in the middle of a careful transition. It is revising decades of policy at a deliberate pace. There is caution in each step. The world waits, watches, and prays in the uncertainty. The yen is reacting to that slow negotiation with a change. The original comeback story had energy because it sounded clean. Strong yen. Rising rates. Clear direction. The new story is quieter. Less certain. More honest. It asks for attention to detail rather than momentum. It asks for patience instead of prediction. I keep thinking about how often narratives shift like this in daily life. You think you know the arc. You repeat it to others. You believe it because it gives structure. Then reality moves by a few degrees. Not enough to shock you. Just enough to ask for a pause. The adjustment happens in silence. The story rewrites itself without anyone announcing it. The yen is in that pause. The narrative has not ended. It has loosened. Everyone is waiting to see what fills the space next.

You have most likely come across the phrase “AI is going to take over everything” in your everyday life. Let me tell you, that reality won’t happen for a long time because of its poor integration into our lives. It’s true that everyone is using ChatGPT or some form of AI technology for daily work or to aid daily decisions, but AI hardware is a different story. As The Financial Times  puts it: “The first wave of AI hardware…has flopped.” When I first came across this article, I was skeptical. Why would any AI integration into our lives fail? AI has already become an important aspect of how we work and learn. The truth is that the AI hardware sector is focusing on producing products for hype rather than functionality. Take Humane AI’s pin, for example. They promised to replace the smartphone. The entire product was based on attaching a pin to any shirt. The problem was that this device lacked the everyday functionality people depend on their phones for. It didn’t have features people consider basic, like email, and it required learning awkward new gestures. Overall, it felt like something that had to be forced into people’s lives rather than fitting in naturally. Simply put, people did not want to talk to their shirt, whether they were at home or in public. Okay, well, what if it’s pocket-sized? Wouldn’t that be more convenient and easier to use? We see the same issue with Rabbit R1’s pocket-sized companion. It seemed like it would be the convenient new AI product that would take off, but it was introduced before there was any clear reason for someone to need it. Another example is the new “AI companion friend,” Friend, sold as a $129 wearable necklace. People compared it to a Life Alert button, and it also failed to answer the key question: “How does this make my life easier?” This is where Apple did what these three products couldn’t: they marketed how their product solves real problems that real people experience in their daily lives. These companies focused on packaging, design, and publicity instead of functionality. They launched assuming their products would be successful simply because AI is now everywhere. However, while AI has not taken off in these hardware attempts, it is  growing in the hardware we use every day, because it’s needed in the physical world. This shows how generative AI works best when integrated into devices that already fit into our lives, like our phones. Looking back, we can see how we were flooded with products that promised to replace the phones we rely on, yet these products barely made it past their first shipments.

You hear a lot of talk about “decoupling,” but what’s happening on the ground feels different. It’s not a break. It’s a reshuffle. Factories in Shenzhen aren’t empty. They’re just no longer the only centre of gravity. Companies are adding second and third bases across the region. You see assembly lines show up in Vietnam. Chip ­packaging plants open in Malaysia. Battery­ material projects grow in Indonesia. India pushes for more electronics production through local incentives. Everyone is moving, adjusting, watching one another. China is still the anchor. It has scale, ports, suppliers, and engineers. But Chinese firms are also setting up factories in Vietnam and Thailand to stay close to these shifts. They want to keep customers in the U.S. and Europe, without taking on all the tariff pressure. RCEP trade rules make it easier for them to send goods around the region with lower duties. So even the “China exit” flows still circle back to China’s influence. Indonesia is aggressive. By restricting raw nickel exports, it forces foreign firms to build processing capacity inside the country. This keeps more value and jobs at home. Some deals look messy, and not every project runs smooth, but the direction is clear. They want to shape the terms. Vietnam and the Philippines are racing to upgrade ports. If ships move faster, suppliers move faster. If suppliers move faster, investment follows. No one is sitting still. Governments, investors, and factory owners treat trade like a living thing. It responds to pressure, competition, and fear of being too dependent on one place. So they spread out. Not because they want to leave, but because they want room to breathe. You feel this most when you talk to people running small supplier shops. They tell you orders now come from three countries instead of one. More paperwork. More stress. But also more resilience. Asia trade isn’t breaking apart. It’s rearranging into a tighter web. And once you see the pattern, it feels less like conflict and more like everyone learning how to share risk.

Image from the Backscoop Due to their early start to trading, this laid the foundation for Singapore’s eventual rise as a global port long before Stamford Raffles stumbled upon the land. When Raffles established a British trading post in 1819, his introduction of a free port —where all trade was open to every nation without tariffs—cemented Singapore’s future as a commercial crossroads. The London Treaty of 1824 later formalized this arrangement, ending clashes between the Dutch and the British and dividing Southeast Asia into their spheres of influence: Singapore and Malacca under the British, most of Indonesia under the Dutch. But colonial governance in Singapore mirrored the extractive systems seen across the region. The island’s residents had limited political participation, minimal civil rights, and little autonomy. Trade thrived—but democracy did not. The British vision for Singapore was one of control, not empowerment. Yet, out of this extractive foundation grew a city where commerce shaped identity, and where symbols of colonial prestige became icons of global enterprise. If you’ve ever been to Singapore, you’ve probably walked past Raffles Hotel . Maybe you were on the way to City Hall, or someone pointed it out as “the place where the Singapore Sling was invented.”  Today, it stands as a landmark of Singaporean heritage and luxury. Ironically, the hotel that now bears Raffles’ name wasn’t founded by the British at all, but by four Armenian brothers , the Sarkies , who arrived in Southeast Asia in the 1880s. They saw opportunity in the colonial order Raffles had built—an order that prized prestige, trade, and cosmopolitanism—and turned it into a business empire that redefined hospitality across Asia.

Image from The Jakarta Post Indonesia was officially a traditional extractive colony from 1800 to 1942. However, from 1602 to 1799, the Dutch East India Company initially operated as a monopoly for spices, with its central hub located in Jakarta, Indonesia. It was just convenient that the Dutch decided to rule the Dutch East Indies as a formal colony. In the mid-18th century, the Dutch had effectively expanded their influence across Java and Sumatra. Their extractive colony built roads and railways in Java and Sumatra, not for Indonesians, but for plantations, which moved sugar, coffee, and rubber to European markets.  The Dutch colonial rule was characterized by racial and class segregation, as they were locked in underdevelopment. Indonesia became a Dutch colonial dependency, with all its political and economic control falling under Dutch rule. This fits into the dependency theory [8] where the world economy is a group within two groups: the core, rich industrialized countries including the U.S., Europe, and Japan, and on the other hand, the periphery, poorer, less developed countries, including former colonies in Asia, Africa, or Latin America. The periphery is “dependent” on the core as it exports raw materials, cheap labor, or simple goods, and imports expensive manufactured products, technology, and investment. This is what contributes to Indonesia’s persistent underdevelopment, seemingly locking the country into a constant cycle of political and economic instability.  The emergence of Dutch enclaves, a caste-like social hierarchy, and a well-developed Western-educated elite from the Netherlands, alongside large-scale areas of unskilled labor.  Moreover, some Dutch liberals thought that since the Netherlands felt they owed Indonesians an “honor of debt,” through the amount of money they made off of them, as said by Conrad Theodor van Deventer, a liberal Democratic member of the Parliament of the Netherlands. This belief resulted in the Ethical Policy, where financial assistance was given by the Netherlands to be devoted to bettering the health and education services, and provision of agricultural services in hopes to stimulate the growth of the economy. They planned to do this by improving education, increasing irrigation, and emigration from Java to less populated areas. On top of that, Indonesia had a strict laissez-faire policy, where it was known for its positive welfare system being funded by the metropolitan treasury. While all of this sounded good in theory, in reality, some saw this as a noble experiment to create a new class of elite within Indonesia. Others saw this as a hope for cultural immersion between Indonesian and Western cultures. In the end, neither achieved an increase in living standards nor created a revolution; however, it did provide agricultural improvements in areas of assistance and advice on irrigation techniques within pre-existing wet-rice technology in Java. Within the education sector, little came out of it, where there was a bigger opportunity for those in the primary to tertiary classes to get access to education. By the end of the 1930s, only a limited group of high school graduates had been produced, with the literacy rate being over 6%. The handful of high school graduates ended up being the only positive aspect that emerged from the Ethical Policy, despite its limitations in educational achievement. The end result was the production of a small, educated elite capable of experiencing their own frustrations with societal issues that had lost their traditional moorings, increasing local grievances. Beyond education, Dutch colonialism brought deeper changes to the social structure of Indonesia. Traditional adat village structures, which were once cohesive and self-governing, began to be truncated under the pressures of new schooling, contract labor, and new Western ideologies. Urbanization pulled Indonesians away from the usual communal belief, leaving many of them caught between modernity and tradition. Some found themselves belonging in brotherhood groups of bandit gangs. In contrast, others turned to new organizations like scouting, which—ironically introduced by the Dutch— became a space for Indonesian youths to embrace their newfound identity. These small changes to the old social order is what created room for a new form of identity as Indonesians, laying the foundation for social movements and protests in the 1920-1930s. More awareness about issues due to the increase in educated people increased the amount of local grievances about the country.   Local grievances led to numerous pre-nationalist movements that revolved around specific discontents, including economic discrimination under colonial rule, social discrimination, and a heightened recognition of how much the Dutch pervaded their daily lives. With the emergence of a new elite, their education outpaced their employment opportunities, as they were westernized yet tied to their traditional peripheral society, which held them back. Around the time of the 1930s, the Youth Pledge was already established. The pledge allowed organizations to declare that they were united as one motherland, one nation, and one language (Bahasa Indonesia), symbolizing a shared national identity. This had led to the emergence of youth movements and unions, including Sarekat Islam, the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI), and Budi Utomo. Out of Indonesia’s four movements, the liberal, Western-oriented group, and the left side of the Islamic movement are essentially comprised of the educated elite from towns. Due to the absence of single-party discipline, it was often seen that people would belong to more than one organization, as nationalism was expressed through different tactics and beliefs. By this time, all the youth groups, also referred to as “Boy Scout groups,” began promoting unity across the island's ethnic groups. Scouts were given the privilege to teach children a way to think of themselves as Indonesians, not just Javanese, Sundanese, etc.. The Dutch didn’t like the idea of this, nevertheless, and limited political activity because of the fear of nationalism. What this did was only make leaders—including Sukarno, who was the face of Indonesia’s independence movement, Hatta, an expert in economics and law, and Sjahrir, one of the quintessential Western-educated nationalists behind democratic ideals—to keep nationalism alive underground, out of the authorities' knowledge.  Following the underground nationalist scheme, during WWII from 1942 to 1945, Japan defeated the Dutch and occupied Indonesia [9] . Japan banned scouting and replaced the youth groups with their own youth movements, Keibodan and Seinendan, to train the growing, premature Indonesian youths for war. Young Indonesian adolescents received military training and organization from trained Indonesian leaders, and this instead led to the organization of independence fighters. Indonesian leaders taught in Bahasa Indonesia, which further promoted the language. Overall, the Japanese gave Indonesians more space to grow their own identity compared to the Dutch.  That’s when, by the end of World War II, Indonesia’s path to independence could not be stopped. When Japan surrendered in August 1945, Sukarno and Hatta seized the moment to proclaim Indonesia's independence in Jakarta on August 17. This was a bold move as the Dutch intended to reclaim their colony and returned with military force, sparking a four-year revolution that tested the unity of the new nation. What held Indonesia to victory was not just strong political leadership but a sense of identity that had been forged through the many decades of colonial repression, social change, and shared struggle under the Japanese occupation. Farmers, students, and former youth scouts turned soldiers fought side by side, and the message of Merdeka! —freedom—resonated across the islands. Although the Dutch finally recognized Indonesia’s sovereignty in 1949, the new republic inherited weak institutions, deep inequalities, and infrastructure built only for extraction. Independence brought pride and unity, but also the immense challenge of creating a nation from the ruins of colonial dependency. Following independence in 1961, the youth nationalist groups united to form a single force, officially known as Gerakan Pramuka Indonesia. Once colonial rule ended, Indonesians became more open to using Western knowledge and technology, as they could now choose it on their own terms instead of having it imposed on them. They weren’t a fan of the abat-village society and wanted education to go towards the Western urban culture in order to create “a substantial middle class”. This movement often ended up imitating Western culture n the surface instead of truly adapting the deeper principles behind it. Their overall theme would be “political freedom means social emancipation”. However, the left-wing vision in Indonesia centered on dismantling entrenched hierarchies, pushing for social justice, greater economic equality, and ultimately a society free of rigid class divisions. They argued that revolution was incomplete until Indonesians were freed of these “constraints”. Indonesians had hoped for dramatic improvements, but the intensity of political passion led people to treat their ideas as absolute truths, making compromise and practical politics impossible. With such weak and poor infrastructures and institutions, corruption and political instability persisted post-nationalism.

Image from Ken Suzuki, Nikkei Asia As Taiwan steps up its defense spending and industries brace for shifting global trade policies, a quieter struggle is emerging among the island’s younger generation. Many are entering a job market reshaped by security concerns, automation, and the lingering effects of global economic uncertainty. Image taken on Oct. 10 where Lai Ching-te, the Taiwanese President, delivers his National Day speech President Lai Ching-te’s government has pledged to expand national defense budgets to more than 3 percent of GDP next year, rising to 5 percent by 2030. The plan includes developing advanced systems such as the “T-Dome” air defense network and strengthening local defense industries. While the investment aims to safeguard Taiwan’s sovereignty and technological edge, it also diverts public funds away from social and labor programs that young people depend on. According to Taiwan’s Directorate-General of Budget, Accounting and Statistics, youth unemployment in August stood at 10.8 percent, roughly triple the national rate. Economists say the combination of rising defense expenditures, U.S. tariff pressures, and slowing export demand is making it harder for small and medium-sized enterprises — long the backbone of Taiwan’s economy — to hire new graduates. “The technology sector remains strong, but outside of semiconductors, job growth has been uneven,” said Lin Ming-hua, an economist at National Taiwan University. “Firms are hesitant to expand payrolls because they expect higher operating costs and uncertain global demand.” Taiwan’s manufacturing and export-driven economy has historically offered steady employment in electronics, machine tools, and maritime logistics. But a surge in automation and digitization has displaced many mid-skill roles. Meanwhile, the rise of artificial intelligence has encouraged employers to prioritize technical expertise, leaving non-STEM graduates struggling to compete. To address these pressures, the government has announced a 93 billion New Taiwan dollar (about US$3 billion) support package for industries and workers affected by U.S. tariffs. Lai has also pledged tens of billions of dollars annually to help small firms adopt AI technologies, hoping to modernize traditional sectors and generate new employment opportunities. Despite these efforts, many young Taiwanese remain uneasy. “It feels like the world is changing faster than we can adapt,” said 25-year-old marketing graduate Chen Yi-lin, who has been freelancing since her contract position ended in June. “I see my friends working in delivery, design, or online tutoring because they cannot find stable jobs. Everyone is just trying to survive.” Analysts say Taiwan’s youth are caught between two transitions — one economic and one geopolitical. On the one hand, the island’s dependence on exports to both China and the United States leaves its industries vulnerable to trade shifts and diplomatic tensions. On the other, China’s military posturing across the Taiwan Strait has made national defense an unavoidable budget priority. “The pressure to prepare for potential conflict has long-term social costs,” said Chou Wei-ling, a sociologist at Academia Sinica. “Younger people face not only higher living costs and job insecurity but also anxiety about the future. The sense of normalcy that once defined Taiwan’s growth years is fading.” Still, some see opportunity in the challenge. A new generation of startups is emerging in cybersecurity, AI defense systems, and local manufacturing, driven by government incentives and a growing demand for technological independence. Taiwan’s stock market, despite occasional volatility, has remained resilient, reflecting investor confidence in the island’s innovation capacity. Yet as both Beijing and Washington exert pressure on Taiwan — one through military threats, the other through economic realignments — the island’s young professionals are left to navigate an increasingly uncertain future. For many, the question is no longer only about employment, but about identity and resilience. “I think our generation has learned to adapt,” Chen said. “We grew up with earthquakes, pandemics, and constant news about China. Maybe this is just another storm we will have to weather.”

Image from Xendit Today, we’re diving into the world of fintech. When I first heard the term, it reminded me of a shark—because of the “fin” in fintech.  Long story short, fintech stands for financial technology , a concept that has become deeply integrated into our daily lives, especially in Singapore. For local Singaporeans, you’re probably most familiar with payment methods like PayWave  (also known as Apple Pay), credit cards, or PayNow . For my international readers, you might use apps like Venmo  or PayPal . In essence, financial technology leverages digital tools to provide convenient access to financial services, eliminating the need to visit a physical bank. Following this quick introduction to fintech, let’s explore an Indonesian fintech company: Xendit . The company made its first investment in Payex  in early 2023, a payment gateway that simplifies transactions in Malaysia. Beyond that, Xendit is one of Southeast Asia’s most recognized payment infrastructure providers, collaborating with major brands such as Shopee  and Lazada , which are key players in Asia’s e-commerce scene. Xendit offers these companies over 100 popular online payment methods that are fast, reliable, and widely accepted. This success helped the company raise $300 million in a Series D round  in 2022, which it strategically invested in DragonPay , a local payment gateway in the Philippines, and Bank Sahabat Sampoerna , a local bank in Indonesia. Xendit has rapidly expanded its Malaysian footprint, onboarding over 4,500  local businesses and processing more than MYR 5 billion (US $1.1 billion)  in payment volume since 2023. Following its acquisition of Payex, the company will operate under Payex’s existing local license, now rebranded as Xendit Malaysia , with both entities sharing the same domain. Looking ahead, Xendit plans to strengthen its teams, explore strategic partnerships, and launch educational initiatives to accelerate digital payment adoption across Malaysia. This expansion marks a significant milestone in Xendit’s journey to strengthen its role in Southeast Asia’s digital payments landscape, with global implications for fintech competition and investment. By operating under Payex’s local license and demonstrating strong growth in Malaysia, Xendit is positioning itself as a key regional payments hub, boosting investor confidence and influencing valuations of similar fintech firms worldwide. However, this growth also brings challenges: navigating Malaysia’s evolving regulatory environment, integrating Payex’s systems, and maintaining profitability amid fierce competition from global players like Stripe  and Adyen . Additionally, currency risks, cybersecurity threats, and compliance requirements could test Xendit’s ability to scale sustainably. Overall, while this move reinforces Southeast Asia’s emergence as a fintech powerhouse, it also highlights the complexities of expanding in a fragmented and tightly regulated market.

In recent months, gold prices have experienced a notable surge throughout Asia, with Tokyo emerging as a primary hub for this precious metal. This rally is not a localized event; it creates significant effects across Southeast Asia, influencing economies, consumer choices, and government strategies. As global uncertainty intensifies, driven largely by inflation concerns and currency fluctuations, investors are turning to gold as a reliable safe haven. This blog post explores the underlying factors fueling rising gold prices and their broader implications for the region. Global Market Drivers The increase in gold prices stems from several key drivers in the global market. Chief among them are rising inflation fears. As central banks battle against escalating prices, many investors are looking to gold as a safeguard against inflation. For instance, in 2023, inflation rates in many countries reached unprecedented levels, prompting a renewed interest in gold. Additionally, the weakening of currencies, particularly the Japanese yen, has heightened the appeal of gold for Japanese investors. When the yen depreciates, purchasing power declines, making gold a more attractive buy. This trend is evident as the yen has lost around 15% of its value against the U.S. dollar over the past year. Finally, the demand for safe-haven assets has increased due to geopolitical tensions and economic uncertainty. For example, during recent global crises, like the pandemic and conflicts abroad, investors often turn to gold, which has consistently been seen as a stable store of value. Regional Responses As gold prices keep climbing, nations in Southeast Asia are responding in diverse ways. In Thailand, for instance, the government is contemplating a gold trading tax to stabilize its economy. This potential policy is a strategic move to manage the fallout from rising gold prices and associated currency fluctuations. In contrast, India's festive season brings a spike in gold demand, as buying gold jewelry is a time-honored tradition. Reports indicate that during the 2023 Diwali festival alone, gold sales jumped by 20% compared to the previous year, underscoring the cultural significance that fuels ongoing demand, even in the face of rising prices. On the other hand, China’s market is showing signs of cooling. Consumers are becoming more cautious, leading to a decline in gold purchases. Recent surveys have indicated that about 30% of Chinese consumers are delaying purchases due to inflated gold prices, which could affect overall demand significantly. Business and Consumer Impact The surge in gold prices places substantial pressure on jewelry retailers across Southeast Asia. With increasing costs, many retailers must navigate challenges in maintaining profit margins while keeping prices appealing to consumers. As a response, some businesses are reconsidering their pricing models and inventory practices. Reports show that in Malaysia, retail jewelry sales are expected to drop by 15% this year as a result of higher gold prices. Moreover, the interest in digital gold is rising as a more accessible form of investment. Fintech platforms enable consumers to invest in gold easily through mobile apps, eliminating barriers associated with physical storage. Studies show that more than 40% of millennials prefer investing in digital gold, highlighting a significant shift in how younger consumers view this asset. Governments in the region are also contemplating new regulations in light of the gold price surge. As Thailand debates taxes on gold trading, other nations may look to implement similar policies to mitigate economic impacts. These regulatory measures will play a crucial role in shaping the future landscape of gold trading in Southeast Asia. Evolving Cultural Dynamics The influence of rising gold prices extends beyond the economy and into cultural norms across Southeast Asia. In countries like Thailand and Indonesia, gold symbolizes wealth and status. As prices climb, consumer attitudes and purchasing behaviors are shifting. In Indonesia, for example, the jewelry market is preparing for increased costs, which may alter traditional buying habits. Consumers might choose to buy smaller jewelry pieces or invest in alternative commodities as gold becomes pricier. This shift could change how gold is perceived culturally, especially in a society where it has long represented prosperity and celebration. Future Outlook The recent surge in gold prices across Asia is a complex issue driven by global uncertainty, currency fluctuations, and changing consumer sentiments. With Tokyo as a new hotspot for gold investment, the effects ripple across Southeast Asia, prompting nations to adapt policies and regulations accordingly. From Thailand's proposed gold trading tax to the evolving jewelry retail landscape, the ramifications of rising gold prices are far-reaching. As consumers modify their buying habits and governments respond to economic challenges, it is clear that this gold rush is more than just a price increase; it involves significant shifts in economies, cultures, and business practices in the region. Looking ahead, it will be intriguing to observe how these trends unfold and what new challenges and opportunities emerge in the realm of gold investment. The ongoing gold rush in Asia is just beginning, and its impact will resonate well into the future.

Image from X For my readers who are around the same age as I am, during the pandemic, we probably didn't and still don’t know what the economy was like or the economic trends that the pandemic changed in the world. And don’t act like you do, because as kids, we were doing everything BUT focusing on those class Zoom lessons: secretly calling our other friends on the other side, playing video games, or just sleeping. As we played around with our lives, seemingly without a care in the world, the real estate housing market reached an all-time high in demand. The high demand for houses was due to the “record-low interest rates, government stimulus, and the rise of remote work,” according to The Economic Times . The shortage resulted from the supply of houses not being able to keep up with the record-high surge in demand for homes. With the supply not keeping up, house prices led to a 40% spike within 2 years. Eventually, the high demand cooled down as more people had to head back into the office. Workplaces had reduced the number of remote workdays, given that COVID-19 was becoming the new flu. Times have changed since the pandemic, where in this case, the U.S. housing market is currently witnessing the largest gap between American citizens, foreign buyers like the Chinese, and overall house sellers. With “508,715 more home sellers than buyers,” according to Redfin, a real estate brokerage, the Chinese had made an 83% jump in shares from $7.5 billion last year (The Economic Times). And these Chinese homebuyers aren’t just buying houses; 70% of them are actually paying in cash. “Anyone paying in cash—whether domestic or international—is at a clear advantage right now," said by Joel Berner, a senior economist, as he's telling the Fox about the fact that they can bypass the upsetting looking mortgage rates that are scaring away traditional buyers. What makes the present a time to be seen as an investment? Well, to many Chinese homebuyers, homes are seen as a long-term investment for their visas, potentially granting them a path to permanent residency in the U.S., or as a place for their children to live while studying abroad in the near future. Buying a house seems more of a logical trade-off rather than renting, as renting involves extra hassle and costs, as there are some additional legal requirements for overseas tenants, said Su Miao, another real estate broker at Compass ( Nikkei Asia ). Although the diversity amongst markets is nice, logistically the surge in home demand by foreign investors had shut Americans with average incomes out of the housing market “by high property values and mortgage rates (Nikkei Asia). In order to counteract this, in some states like Texas, is starting to enforce their law that says “individuals from designated countries without permanent residency or other U.S. affiliation cannot own residential or commercial properties for nonresidential purposes, nor can they lease such properties for more than one year,” according to Greenberg Traurig, a law firm. While this seems plausible, I actually argue that international demand could always reroute to less restricted areas that prioritise lucrative gains. As goes with everything, the stricter the parent is, the more the children will find a way to work around it and do more crazy teenage things. The stricter the school's Wi-Fi is, the more students will use their own data or VPN to sneakily go on prohibited websites or apps. You get the gist. At the end of the day, the housing markets and the overall economy aren’t so black-and-white; they’re just as unpredictable as our teenage antics—something bad happens, whether the law gets stricter or a new negative outburst happens, people scatter around and reroute to buying more or fewer houses. The U.S. housing market is ultimately a game of cats and dogs, as a house isn’t just a roof over your head; it’s more about leverage and opportunity.

Image from Jakarta Globe With a busy diplomatic schedule ahead, Japan faces a significant challenge this year: a new prime ministerial election following Shigeru Ishiba’s resignation. Ishiba announced that he would step aside for a new leader from the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP). Why is this a problem for Japan? Because almost everything—work on the fiscal 2026 budget proposal and tax reform bill, foreign policy decisions, and more—will pause until the election concludes. At present, Japan’s economy shows wages rising, but inflation has failed to keep pace. In response, Ishiba stated at a news conference that before a successor takes office, he would craft a new economic policy to balance inflation and U.S. tariffs, emphasizing that more needs to be done to support wage growth. Image from Bloomberg Meanwhile, during the July upper house campaign, the LDP has seized on the wage growth and inflation debate to pledge more cash payments and relief for soaring prices. Funding such measures requires passing a supplementary budget for fiscal 2025 in an extraordinary parliamentary session. But with no majority in either house, the LDP-led coalition faces a political minefield in trying to pass its spending package. The leadership transition heightens concerns of government inaction at a time when Japan’s diplomatic calendar is particularly crowded: the ASEAN summit in Malaysia in October, the APEC summit in South Korea, and the G20 summit in South Africa in November. Former U.S. President Donald Trump is also expected to attend the APEC summit, though a visit to Japan seems unlikely, as Washington would struggle to coordinate such a trip without stable leadership in Tokyo. Another major diplomatic challenge looming this year is the renegotiation of Japan’s cost-sharing agreement with the United States for hosting U.S. forces. The current deal expires in March 2027, and the two countries must agree on how the expenses will be divided going forward—a negotiation that touches both financial sensitivities and the broader U.S.–Japan security relationship. Domestically, concerns of political paralysis coincide with signs of economic weakness. Both overseas visitor spending and consumer discretionary spending have slowed in recent months—a surprise, given that inbound tourism had been one of the strongest drivers of growth earlier this year. This points to stagnation—very little to no economic growth. According to preliminary statistics from the Japan Tourism Agency, “Nights spent at domestic lodging facilities such as hotels and inns dropped 1.4% in July from a year earlier.” Demand declined among both foreign visitors and domestic customers: after turning negative in February for the first time since November 2021, bouncing back in April and May, it fell again in June (Nikkei Asia). One factor weighing on tourist spending is the stronger yen compared with last year. Image from the Edge Singapore Economists warn that these trends may persist. Toru Suehiro, Chief Economist at Daiwa Securities, observed, “Since few tourists visit Japan two or three times in a short span, there is a sense that inbound demand has already run its course and appears to have peaked… Demand is expected to remain weak for the time being.” He also noted that with the rise of dual-income households, the line between necessities and discretionary spending is shifting. Dining out, for instance, is no longer easily categorized as discretionary, while travel remains a prime example of spending that consumers cut back on first when prices rise.

Image from Brookings Institution Politics in Thailand has never been short on drama. From the coups of the past to the courtrooms of today, the country seems to have a knack for turning governance into a theatre of power struggles. And this week, the curtain fell hard on Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra. On September 29th, the People’s Party, Thailand’s largest political bloc with 143 seats—nearly 30% of the lower house of parliament that chooses the prime minister—made its move. They demanded a general election within four months, arguing that Paetongtarn had mishandled delicate relations with Cambodia and, by extension, the national interest. At the heart of the storm is a single phone call. Not a high-level diplomatic negotiation, not a trade agreement, but a private conversation between Paetongtarn and Hun Sen, Cambodia’s former prime minister and now Senate president. Hun Sen isn’t just any foreign politician; he’s a longtime ally of Paetongtarn’s father, Thaksin Shinawatra, whose shadow looms large over Thai politics. When the call leaked, what might have been brushed off elsewhere became, in Thailand, a scandal. Paetongtarn’s critics argued that she had chosen personal ties over the nation’s pride. The Constitutional Court agreed, declaring that she had committed a cultural offence and prioritized her own agenda over the people she was elected to serve. By Friday, the ruling was handed down: Paetongtarn was out. The People’s Party framed its push not just as punishment for one phone call but as a necessary step toward economic reform. For them, Paetongtarn’s removal is an opportunity to reset the country’s priorities. It’s also a classic political maneuver: use the language of reform to mask a raw power struggle. With momentum on their side, the People’s Party has been quick to position itself as the vehicle of change, the antidote to what they paint as the Shinawatra family’s endless cycle of controversy. Meanwhile, the country is technically still under the control of the incumbent ruling coalition, a patchwork of parties that teamed up to govern together. But the cracks are already showing. By law, parliament must convene within a week to choose a successor. The Pheu Thai Party, Paetongtarn’s own base, wants desperately to hold on. Yet the very coalition it leads is starting to splinter. The Kla Tham Party, with its 26 seats, was conspicuously absent from a recent meeting. For a coalition that needs every headcount, this silence speaks volumes. On the other side, the People’s Party has absorbed Bhumjaithai into its bloc. But here’s the twist: they’re not doing it to form a traditional coalition. Instead, they’re deliberately holding off on unifying, using the alliance as leverage to demand fresh elections and deeper reforms. It’s a tactical gamble—one that could either catapult them into lasting power or leave the country in yet another round of political paralysis. Thailand has been here before. Leaders rise, only to be toppled by the very institutions meant to protect democracy. Court rulings and coalition defections are as much a part of Thai politics as campaign rallies. And yet, each time it happens, the stakes feel higher. This latest episode raises uncomfortable questions: How much of Thailand’s political destiny is shaped by voters, and how much by courts and coalitions behind closed doors? Can a country chart a stable economic future when its leadership is perpetually on trial—literally and figuratively? Paetongtarn Shinawatra being ousted is more than the fall of a young, high-profile prime minister. It’s a reminder that in Thailand, politics is never just about policies. It’s about personalities, power blocs, and the perception of loyalty—whether to the people, the military, or the nation itself. For now, the ruling coalition clings to power, the People’s Party rallies for reform, and parliament prepares for its next act. But if there’s one thing Thai politics guarantees, it’s this: the drama isn’t over. In fact, it may have only just begun.

Image from MUVI Everybody’s favorite streaming platform is Netflix. Quite literally, everybody’s. Where do you go to watch a new popular movie or TV show? Definitely Netflix. At times, people even go to the lengths of activating their VPN when certain content isn’t available in their country — all this extra convenience just for the sake of streaming on Netflix. I mean, Netflix is known for its easy-to-navigate software, ad-free streaming, etc. It has always been the best streaming platform, dominating the market throughout the 20th century. However, until recently, people have been complaining about how most of their popular old shows and movies have been taken out, and that they need to get better. There have always been complaints, but people never imagined another streaming platform could be like Netflix. Right? I mean, we would expect another streaming platform like Amazon or Disney+ to take over, but have you ever thought a streaming platform from China would take over? Well, in the Southeast Asia streaming market, it seems like Tencent and iQiyi are climbing up the ranks despite being each other’s top rivals. U.S. Netflix and other U.S. streaming platforms like Amazon Prime all entered the Southeast Asia market in 2016. Throughout the market, they continued to expand globally, including taking a 60% share of Singapore’s market (French research company, Dataxis). But Chinese companies like Tencent and iQiyi are rapidly catching up to these U.S. streaming companies. In Thailand, they hold about 40% of the market, while U.S. companies only have 30%. Their key strategy is to promote their ad-supported free viewing of premium content, similar to what Netflix provides, but without being annoying like an “illegal website.” These Chinese streaming platform companies aim to further dominate the Southeast Asia market, a region they are already rapidly overtaking. In addition to their ad-supported free viewing content, they also have low monthly subscription fees equivalent to only a few dollars. Their platforms, on average, have around 36 million monthly subscribers within the Southeast Asia market. To achieve their goals of expanding and dominating even further, they plan to create more original content within Asia, including Thailand, Indonesia, and other countries. In Thailand, iQiyi is already pushing 9,000 titles, with over 60% of them being Chinese productions. Moreover, Yang Xiaowei, iQiyi’s co-managing director of iQiyi's Thailand subsidiary, mentions that they’re planning to focus more on popular genres, such as boy-love and girl-love drama shows. They also plan to “invest up to 50 million baht ($1.54 million) per production, and release four to six titles per year," said Yang (Nikkei Asia). Additionally, they plan to expand their content in Indonesia. In June of this year, they partnered with Indonesia’s largest mobile carrier, Telkomsel, to jointly produce these six titles they’re planning to release. They’re working with local studios and plan to heavily promote their new content to Telkomsel’s roughly 170 million subscribers. Along with Tencent’s growth in many other segments, like music, it seems the popularity of Chinese goods and services — from household appliances to AI-driven electric cars, and even their renowned character Labubu — is growing throughout Southeast Asia. If Chinese streaming services continue to expand, as seen with Tencent's rise to become the new Spotify with even better numbers, Chinese brands could gain even greater sway in the region than we thought.