THE ELEMENT OF SURPRISE

KIM DAE JUNG

It was challenge enough to get into the Blue House. Then, thrust into the deep end of the Crisis, President Kim Dae Jung might have wondered if he was being asked to walk on water. Yet he persuaded South Korea's militant labor unions not to block the closure of non-viable companies despite widespread layoffs. Kim, 73, also retains the backing of institutions such as the IMF, even if economic reform has inched along. This month, he chivvied the big five chaebol into agreeing to downsize - crucial for their survival. Sticking resolutely to his Sunshine Policy, Kim has helped keep Pyongyang engaged rather than allow it to veer off into attack mode. Not least, he can claim a diplomatic triumph in Seoul-Tokyo relations. Among the breakthroughs: Japan's written apology for its excesses in the Korean peninsula (in contrast to the lack of one to China). Plus, this new warmth may translate into new yen investment. As a leadership style, dogged persistence doesn't exactly fire the imagination. Still, as Kim learned through decades in the political wilderness, it can pay off.

PRINCE JEFRI BOLKIAH

By any measure, it was Prince Jefri Bolkiah's annus horribilis. Already sacked as finance minister, the Brunei royal began the year embroiled in a lawsuit over business projects, which dredged up salacious testimony about a harem. Then elder brother and Brunei's absolute ruler, Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah, felt compelled to act on allegations that Jefri, 44, had misappropriated public funds. Worse, Jefri is blamed for a financial crisis unprecedented in the oil-rich nation. The penalties so far: seizure of assets which led to the collapse of his flagship company, Amedeo, and his removal as the head of Brunei's investment arm. Could it be, as Jefri claims, a plot by radical Islamists to bring down the monarchy? The black-sheep prince has since sought to patch up strained family ties. His return to the fold, though, might depend on whether the country's finances remain in the black.

DONALD TSANG

Great upheavals bring up unlikely heroes. When the dust settles on Asia's turmoil, Donald Tsang might just be one. After being pushed around by hedge funds and banks, Hong Kong's financial secretary retaliated in late August. Betting that local officials would raise interest rates to defend the territory's U.S. dollar peg, speculators creamed off profits by attacking the Hong Kong currency while taking short positions on securities. Tsang, 54, jumped into the market - armed with $15 billion. Much to the surprise of economists and fund managers who argued that such intervention would shatter confidence, the gutsy move worked. There has been no major attack on the Hong Kong dollar since, and interest rates have dropped. The Hang Seng is up 55% from its August low, reaping a small windfall for the government. Initially condemning the move as being anti-free market, financial experts have begun to come round to the idea. Among the converts: global equities strategist Barton Biggs. Tsang has since taken his message to the world: rein in the hot money which has inflicted such havoc globally. And the world has been listening.

PAK SE RI

Being mobbed is par for Pak Se Ri's course nowadays. U.S. journalists covering her trip back to South Korea last month found what Pak Power meant. They received discounts at every store they entered just for being part of her entourage. The golfer is now "the daughter of all Korea." Excessive adulation? Maybe, but Pak is the hottest woman in professional golf in two decades. And she's just 21. Besides, Pak represents hope and inspiration for Koreans mired in economic gloom. An unknown earlier this year, she began to attract attention when she won the McDonald's LPGA Championship. Her megastar status was sealed when she took the U.S. Women's Open - the youngest champion in the tournament's 53-year history. Comparisons are constantly drawn to that other golfing prodigy, Tiger Woods. Despite the hype, Pak remains focused on her game. It's "just practice, sleep, eat, practice." Next year the self-effacing Korean has set her sights on being "the best golfer in the world." Look out, Tiger.

PRABOWO SUBIANTO

In the shadow play of Indonesian politics, actors are seldom as they appear to be. None has a murkier part than Lt.-Gen. Prabowo Subianto. An ambitious man said to have an eye on the presidency, he remained a player even as the violent clamor for change shook the iron grip his father-in-law, Suharto, had on the country. That vanished as the smoke over Jakarta cleared in May. Prabowo, 46, emerged in an even darker role - one linking him to a wave of anti-Chinese savagery and to student killings that sparked the violent riots ahead of Suharto's downfall. Though he admitted to "misinterpreting orders" over the abduction and torture of activists earlier this year, a military investigation gave him an honorable discharge in August. Prabowo's name continues to crop up as Indonesia seeks answers to past and recent atrocities. The general may yet face a court-martial.

TARRIN NIMMANHAEMINDA

He disdains the politicking that so often attends cabinet positions. So it is a tribute to his skills as economic manager that Tarrin Nimmanhaeminda has Thai premier Chuan Leekpai's firm support. The Harvard-educated finance minister has not shrunk from pressing on with crucial, if sometimes unpopular, measures to re-engineer the debt-ridden finance sector - beginning with the closure of 56 companies. A former banker, Tarrin, 53, has helped shore up the battered baht, bring down interest rates and push banks to make adequate provision for non-performing loans. Deputy PM Supachai Panitchpakdi may have grabbed more of the limelight recently because of his candidacy for the post of WTO chief. But it is Tarrin who has become the face of Thai recovery at home and abroad. Though criticized as being a mite too aloof, the minister is a highly articulate salesman for his country. "A class act," according to one foreign admirer. Powerful interests are ranged against Thailand's reform program, but having Tarrin on board will give it a lot more currency.

AUNG SAN SUU KYI

They were drives to nowhere. Yet for all that, Aung San Suu Kyi achieved what she set out to do: keeping the cause of Myanmar democracy alive. First in a car, then in a van, she set out to visit leaders of her National League for Democracy (NLD) outside Yangon. Forced to a standstill, she lived in the vehicles for days, daring soldiers to move her. Her July standoff, shrewdly timed just as ASEAN ministers met in Manila, turned the heat on the junta which denied the NLD's sweeping electoral victory in 1990. Keeping up the pressure, she set the military a new deadline to convene a parliament based on that mandate. A subsequent official media campaign to discredit the Nobel laureate as a "menace to the nation" only undermined Yangon's claims to political dialogue. Another year of curtailed freedom has not dimmed the profile of Myanmar's most recognized figure.