A Marshall Plan for Southeast Asia

Part of this ignorance stems from complacency. Southeast Asia's 250 million Muslims are mostly moderate and economically productive—especially when compared to their Arab peers. Democratically elected governments rule Malaysia and Indonesia. With varying degrees of success, both countries have adopted an export-led model of development that has more in common with manufacturing powerhouses such as South Korea and Taiwan than with oil-dependent economies like Iran, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. In food, dress and language, Muslim minorities in Singapore, Thailand and the Philippines have traditionally been closer to their non-Muslim compatriots than to Syrians, Egyptians and Lebanese.

But the region has hardly been impervious to the radicals' siren call. Two of the 9/11 hijackers planned their attacks in Malaysia. In 2002, Indonesia's al Qaeda affiliate, Jemaah Islamiyah, killed 202 people in Bali. An insurgency in southern Thailand has claimed more than 4,000 lives over the past six years and brought a culture of death threats and beheadings to a land more famous for its beaches and gracious hospitality. The Philippines, a Catholic-majority country, continues to grapple with Muslim separatists in Mindanao. Eight years ago, even tiny Singapore, orderly as a Swiss bank, barely pre-empted a plot to attack the United States, British and Israeli embassies.

Nonetheless, to their credit, the authors recognize that the problem facing the region is "more one of rising Islamic fundamentalism and less a massive terrorist threat." They contend that Southeast Asia's Muslims are beginning to abandon their own easy-going cultures—shot through with animist, Hindu and Buddhist influences—by turning "increasingly to the Middle East to reaffirm their identity." Social relations between Muslims and non-Muslims have become more strained, religiously bearded men and headscarved women more common, and Arabic forms of greeting now compete with those in the local language.

On the face of it, this trend looks benign. But in the long run, there's the potential for a cascading effect. Proliferating orthodox madrassas (Islamic boarding schools), rising local demands for Shariah law, and pullulating conspiracy theories about American and Jewish plots to destroy Islam have more potential to mar American relations with a traditionally friendly part of the world than the occasional bombing or botched plot. As in Pakistan, ruling elites may continue to reluctantly co-operate with America while the population turns increasingly sour on American values.

Messrs. Bond and Simon traveled extensively for "The Next Front." Off and on over a period of several years—though for the most part in 2006—they crisscrossed Southeast Asia, visiting two countries with Muslim majorities (Indonesia and Malaysia), and three others (the Philippines, Thailand and Singapore) that house restive Muslim minorities. They met presidents and businessmen, analysts and ideologues, jihadists and military commanders. The reader is introduced to Singapore's "minister mentor" Lee Kuan Yew, the Philippines' President Gloria Arroyo, Malaysian leader Najib Razak and Surin Pitsuwan, the secretary general of the 10-member Association of Southeast Asian Nations. Only rarely do these interviews produce new insights, but they are nonetheless valuable as a barometer of influential opinion on an often fraught issue.

Unfortunately, while Messrs. Bond and Simons correctly diagnose the disease—fundamentalism rather than terrorism—their suggested cure is somewhat half-baked. Envisioning a kind of tropical Marshall Plan, they propose a massive commitment of American experts and advisors to eradicate poverty in the region. As they put it, "Americans in sandals and sneakers today will eliminate the need for Americans in combat boots tomorrow." The authors suggest an expanded Peace Corps, an army of volunteer teachers, and technical and economic advice from skilled American retirees. The emphasis, they say, ought to be on agriculture, industry, finance and small-business development.

But poverty, as any Indian, Vietnamese or Cambodian will tell you, is hardly a Muslim monopoly. In fact, jihadists—from Khalid Sheikh Mohammed to Mohamed Atta to Malaysia's Noordin Mohammad Top—are drawn disproportionately from the ranks of the relatively well-educated and well-off. Many attended universities in the U.S., Britain or Western Europe. The trouble in Islam today has less to do with access to Western skills than with the rejection of Western values. In the end, Muslim communities in Southeast Asia need not merely job creation and agricultural and industrial expertise, but—much more urgently—help nurturing a culture of human rights, a respect for all faiths, and the belief in man's power to shape his own destiny that radical Islam denies.

Mr. Dhume, a columnist for WSJ.com, is the author of "My Friend the Fanatic: Travels with a Radical Islamist" (Skyhorse, 2009).