Elephant’s Leg


PIMPS, PROXIES AND PREPPIES – THE MOTLEY CREW VYING TO LEAD A NATION
 
Thailand’s general election takes place this Sunday. As a non-citizen, I can’t vote. When the election was announced, I thought that was a shame, since for the first time in my life I have an interest in politics. Back home in Britain, I did vote, but was fairly apathetic about it.

But as the election and its major players started to take shape, I started to think that even if I could vote, I would no longer be able to do so with conviction. That’s not because the campaigning has been so strong that it would be hard to pick which candidate would be best. Far from it. Now, it would be more a case of choosing the lesser evil.

With that in mind, let’s take a look at the major contenders – with “con” being the operative syllable.

DEMOCRAT PARTY – ABHISIT VEJJAJIVA

What happens when you judge a book by its cover? 92 people die.

Abhisit is the incumbent Prime Minister and head of the Democrat Party, which leads the coalition government installed by parliamentary vote in December 2008.

Young, photogenic, Oxford-educated and multilingual, Abhisit’s arrival as PM was largely hailed at the time. He was more charismatic than his immediate – and immediately forgettable – predecessor Somchai Wongsawat, more media-friendly than the cranky Samak Sundaravej, who came before Somchai, and stepped into office with a corruption-free reputation. The latter point was a feather in the cap of the Democrats’ supporters and/or the opponents of Thaksin Shinawatra, who at the time was only a few months into his self-imposed exile which followed a corruption conviction.

Abhisit was lauded as the first Thai premier to take office without any corruption stains on his copybook. But it speaks volumes  of the state of Thai politics that a country’s leader should be celebrated for something many nations would take as a prerequisite of leadership

Despite all the high-level international education, clean reputation and good looks, the evidence of Abhisit’s premiership all points to someone sorely lacking in ability to effectively govern a country and its people.

The biggest example of this, of course, is last year’s Red Shirt anti-government protests which ran for a protracted two months and culminated in the riots which saw iconic buildings across Bangkok torched and Thailand hitting the front pages and news bulletins of mass media worldwide for about the worst possible reasons one could imagine for a country which prides and promotes itself as a safe, friendly tourism destination.

Downtown Bangkok goes up in flames, May 19, 2010. (Photo by www.benowenbrowne.com)

And more important than that distressing imagery was the death toll – 92 people were confirmed killed in the protests (not counting those who remain “missing”), most of them civilians. For sure, most of those deaths could have been avoided. It doesn’t matter what your political stance is, nor does it matter what you think of the Red Shirts and their actions. That the Prime Minister bungled the handling of the crisis to such a degree that almost a hundred people were killed would have led to his resignation in almost any civilised country.

I’m not saying Abhisit was wrong to break up the protests. After all, parts of the city were being held to ransom and innocent people’s daily lives were being affected. But if he’d taken decisive action much earlier, the outcome wouldn’t have been nearly so bad. Sure, it would have been an unpopular move with some, but in trying not to upset people he came across as weak, emboldened the protesters, and ultimately presided over a disaster.

That he didn’t step down counts against him. That he has refused to apologise counts against him. His idiotic attempts to look like a common man on the campaign trail by planting rice in a tailored white shirt count against him. His buffoon of a deputy, Suthep Thaugsuban, with his comments that he “doesn’t trust foreigners” when rejecting a UN investigation into the protests and then saying the army didn’t kill anybody at the rallies but “the protesters ran in front of the bullets” counts against him, and the Democrat Party as a whole, big time.

PHEU THAI - YINGLUCK SHINAWATRA

What's in a name? POWER, if your surname is Shinawatra.

A lot of people will vote Democrat simply because they don’t like Thaksin Shinawatra. On the other hand, a lot of people will vote for Pheu Thai simply because they DO like him. He’s the most divisive figure in Thai politics. People either love him or hate him. He’s either Satan or a saviour. There’s no middle sentiment.

Unfortunately for the Democrats, those who love Thaksin make up the majority of the Thai population, which has been borne out by Thaksin-helmed parties winning by a landslide in the past two elections. But the fact he was deposed in a coup, and that his following proxy government was overthrown by the Yellow Shirts in 2008, shows that popular sentiment is hardly the decisive factor when it comes to choosing governments and leaders.

Unfortunately for Thaksin’s supporters, not only is he unable to become the next prime minister,  but he can’t even return to Thailand without being jailed. He fled the country in 2008, after which a two-year prison sentence was handed to him in absentia for corruption offences. If he returns, he will have to serve the jail term.

But that’s not to say he’s not involved in Thailand’s affairs. Far from it. Just look at the family name of prime ministerial candidate of the party he leads in all but official status. That’s right – Yingluck Shinawatra is Thaksin’s sister.

Now, I know nepotism is a big part of business and politics in Thailand, but this is ridiculous. Thaksin isn’t even trying to pretend Pheu Thai’s No.1 is there on merit or that he isn’t really the boss. Pheu Thai have said that if they form the next government, they will push for an amnesty for anyone convicted of political offences in the past five years. It’s clear who that refers to, although Yingluck has said the party is not about one person. Sorry, dear, but when you carry the Shinawatra name and are proposing a bill that will enable the most famous Shinawatra to plot a route back to power, I’m not buying that.

Red Shirt protesters

But in the bigger picture, it’s not necessary to hide this ambition. As said, most Thaksin supporters will vote Pheu Thai anyway, and his staunchest supporters will absolutely vote Pheu Thai if the stated policy is to bring him back, so an overt strategy along those lines won’t hurt. On the other hand, Thaksin’s opponents won’t vote Pheu Thai no matter what, due to the party’s association with him, so there’s nothing to lose with them by stating a “bring Thaksin home” agenda.

What bothers me, though, is not Thaksin or the goal of bringing him back. Of course he’s corrupt and of course his actions as a politician have been self-serving, but he’s far from alone in those two considerations and his actions have made a tangible difference to a lot of people. He was also elected – twice, and by a large majority – in fair polls. So him being the figurehead of the Pheu Thai campaign is fine.

But large numbers of Thaksin’s support base fought – and I mean literally fought – for him last year, with the Red Shirts pushing for elections (Abhisit was voted in the parliament, not the public, after Thaksin’s previous political incarnation, the People Power Party, was dissolved). Dozens of them died and hundreds were injured. Ostensibly they did so in the name of democracy, but Thaksin formed the spine of the movement. You could say, without melodrama, that many of the Red Shirts who were killed died for him, or at least for what he represented. So for Thaksin to then put his sister – a formidable businesswomen, no doubt, but utterly inexperienced in politics – in the Pheu Thai driving seat instead of the real politicians who fronted the Red Shirt campaign is tantamount to a kick in the balls for those who risked – and gave – their lives in last year’s pro-Thaksin rallies.

RAK PRATHET THAI - CHUWIT KAMOLVISIT

Whaddup dawg?

So, one candidate is incapable but heads the Democrat Party because he looks good and speaks well. Another has zero political experience but is in Pheu Thai’s top spot because of nepotism. What else can we add to the mix that so far includes superficiality and cronyism? How about hypocrisy?

I know just the man…

Chuwit’s election posters are the most eye-catching, after the Yellow Shirt animals (we’ll come to that next). He’s the guy frowning, scowling, growling and otherwise exasperating all over town. His fans like him because he’s a straight-talker and he’s not afraid to put the odd nose out of joint. His big ticket is that he wants to eradicate corruption, both in business and politics. Corruption makes Chuwit angry, and there’s a lot of corruption in Thailand, so there are a lot of posters around Thailand of Chuwit looking angry.

In fact, there are only two things that make Chuwit smile – dogs and women.

Dogs? Well, apparently so, according to his posters. Chuwit doesn’t even smile when there’s a baby in his arms. Most politicians on the campaign trail kiss babies. Chuwit holds them and scowls. But he’s quite happy to shake hands with a dog, and can be seen smiling while doing so in the one poster which is incongruous with his “I hate the world” character. The point of that poster is that, just like a dog, he offers loyalty.

There’s something else Chuwit can offer you which dogs are also famous for: casual sex.

This is also why women are the only other thing which can make him smile. Chuwit, you see, is a pimp. Or at least he used to be. He still has a “managerial interest” in certain “entertainment establishments”. They are advertised as massage parlours, but everyone knows what kind of “massage” is on offer, and Chuwit doesn’t deny this. He used to, but then eventually he confessed when he decided to launch his campaign against corruption. He had to confess because he went public with the amounts of bribes he would pay – and who he would pay them to – in order for his businesses to remain free of police inspection. But in 2003 he was arrested anyway, so he blew the whistle on the police officers who had taken his bribes.

In other words, he is fighting corruption because corruption didn’t work for him. If he’d never been arrested, then corruption would still be getting the thumbs up from Chuwit Kamolvisit.

PEOPLE’S ALLIANCE FOR DEMOCRACY – VOTE NO

The best way to appeal to "wise" voters is to use cartoonish imagery.

Don’t like the man who presided over 92 deaths? Don’t like the man who thumbed his nose at the 92 victims by appointing his sister to lead his party? Don’t like the massage parlour baron who’s laughably fighting corruption? Then why note “Vote No”, as the Yellow Shirts are imploring you?

The yellow posters of various animals in suits encouraging the no-vote are designed to evoke the negative qualities of politicians. There’s the lizard (slippery), buffalo (stupid), dog (aggressive), monkey (selfish), and so on.

But the no-vote is a bit different to abstaining or spoiling your ballot. The Thai ballot paper has a box to ”Vote No”, the equivalent of “none of the above”, and this will be recorded as an actual vote and the percentage of no-votes an official election statistic.

However, this won’t affect the final result. Even if the overall majority votes no, the next government will still be based on the total votes for candidates. So what is the point of this campaign, you might ask.

Back in 2008, when the Yellow Shirts rallied to overthrow the Samak administration – and succeeded – they answered questions as to why they were protesting against a democratically elected government by saying democracy itself was flawed. They did not believe the “one vote for one person” system worked. They said that having Thaksin or Thaksin-aligned politicians in government was proof of this, because if people were using their vote wisely, this wouldn’t happen.

Distastefully, they proposed a merit-based voting system, in that the value of a vote was based on someone’s class, level of education and place of residence. If you were middle class or above, educated to degree level and urban-based, preferably in Bangkok, you’d get a full vote, whereas your opinion would be deemed less valuable the further away from those attributes you were. If you were a rural member of the working classes who hadn’t gone beyond high school, your vote would be least important. Which was all very convenient, considering that demographic makes up the majority in Thailand, and that the majority voted for Thaksin.

So the logic now is that if enough people vote no, the Yellow Shirts’ stance that the current political system is flawed will be validated. They would not win any seats, but they could point to the results and say that the public agrees with them, and therefore it’s time to overhaul the current form of democracy.

Just one problem with that, though. By pushing this stance through the existing “one person, one vote” system, the Yellows can’t win. If they fail to encourage enough no-votes, then they can’t push for electoral reform as a result. But if the campaign does attract significant support, then isn’t that result flawed by their  very own definition of what’s wrong with the voting system? You can’t say the voters aren’t intelligent enough to vote wisely, and then change your mind if the vote falls the way you want it to. Although that is exactly what I expect they would do…



THE THAI SMILE: LOST IN BANGKOK, FOUND IN KO SICHANG

Ko Sichang offers Thai countryside atmosphere and attitudes by the sea

Thailand’s image needs all the help it can get right now. Last month’s dramatic footage of bomb sites and gun fights across Bangkok played out internationally and many countries have yet to lift their travel warnings to the erstwhile Land of Smiles.

For sure, confidence has been rocked, and even beyond the photos of war on the streets, the reputation of Thai people as gentle, benevolent Buddhists has been tarnished by displays of downright ugly behaviour during such fractious times.

Whether the protesters promising – and almost succeeding – to turn Bangkok into a “sea of fire”, or their opponents cheering and swearing as the death toll neared a hundred, there was precious little positive humanity on display.

I reported on what happened as the army dispersed the Red Shirts last month and, as the situation has calmed, have wondered what I should write about next. I wanted to find something positive to say because, for all the bad news, there are still a lot of good reasons to be here.

But, with the deaths and the gunshots and the smoke still so fresh in the memory, and the vicious verbal invective – likely to, and perhaps designed to, widen the social divisions even further – still being spouted from both sides, what could I say to help restore some dignity to this scarred nation?

Well, travel remains a true pleasure in Thailand, and you’re never far away from tranquil countryside, rich historical sites, pretty coasts or fun smaller cities. Even when the Bangkok crisis peaked on May 19, with dozens of buildings set ablaze and an 8pm curfew locking down the capital, it only took a couple of hours’ drive to Hua Hin and a few days of safety, calm and natural beauty.

Another, less famous, seaside escape within reach of Bangkok is Ko Sichang. I visited there last weekend with my girlfriend, Waew, and it was here that we were reminded of the inherently good nature of Thai people, away from politically volatile Bangkok and the money-hungry types of the famous resort towns.

I had visited Ko Sichang once before, over a year ago, and loved its unspoilt, rural atmosphere. True, the primarily rocky island only has one beach of note, and that is average in Thai terms (although clean and safe), but it is the look and feel of Ko Sichang which encouraged me to return.

Local kids play in the harbour

The majority of shops and businesses here are family-run, independent affairs. There are no chain hotels, no fast-food joints, no condominiums, no go-go bars, and only one 7-Eleven. It may be too sleepy for some, but sometimes you want a quiet retreat. The houses are old-fashioned and colourful. The people are relaxed. The barnacle-clad port creaks both with age and character and children leap from its heights into the aquamarine depths all day long. Wild goats roam the island, chewing between the rocks, unperturbed by the occasional passing vehicle.

A drive of an hour or so south-east of Bangkok, towards Pattaya, brings you to the town of Sri Racha, from where you catch a boat to Ko Sichang. The ferry ride takes 40 or 50 minutes but is not particularly attractive. Sri Racha is a major industrial town and this, combined with its proximity to Pattaya, makes it a major shipping lane, so the ride to Ko Sichang goes past innumerable rusting old cargo vessels.

However, on disembarkation at the island, its charms become immediately evident. I’d recommend doing as I did and hiring a motorbike if there is only one or two of you. There are tuk-tuks available for transport between port, beach, town and hotels, but no one spot on Ko Sichang is big or developed enough to be worth spending the majority of your time, so riding around and finding your own little places of interest is the order of the day.

Riding off on our newly-commandeered motorbike, we proceeded through narrow streets crammed with shaded old shophouses, into the town area which one could best describe as “Isaan-on-sea”, up the hill which forms the centre of the island, and down towards the opposite coast which is more picturesque and hosts the sole significant beach.

Approaching the beach at Ao Atsadang, a sweeping view of the Gulf of Thailand, unspoilt by the ships and urban landscape facing the other side, is afforded, and as you drive along with barely another vehicle in sight, swathes of greenery uninterrupted by buildings, and the occasional impassive goat, it’s hard to conceive the major urban centres of Bangkok and Pattaya are so close by.

A word of warning: while Ko Sichang is small, and relatively undiscovered, consequently it doesn’t have many choices of accommodation. For sure you won’t be left stranded, but the primest options – beachside at Hat Thampang Bungalows, clifftop at Paree Hut, or the converted palatial ruins at Malee Blue – tend to be fully booked at weekends. We stayed instead at Benz Bungalows in town, which was basic but acceptable, and within walking distance of the deservedly popular Pan & David Restaurant.

A day is plenty to take in the main attractions of the island – the Rama V palace, a temple or three, a Chinese monastery, and a swim – at a leisurely pace, stopping as you please to imbibe the tranquility all around.

Waew and I did just that, ate delicious seafood salad at the beach, and watched the sunset from the western rocks. Well, one thing we didn’t do was swim at Ao Atsadang – at lunchtime, the water was as clean as usual, but when we returned in the late afternoon, it has turned to a dark green sludge. The reason, according to a bartender, was that a whale in the vicinity had suffered an upset stomach!

Already the day had been charming enough – whale diarrhoea or not – but it was the events of the night which would do so much to restore my faith in the Thai character. This country’s natural attractions endure, but a reminder of the qualities of its people was timely.

Waew all patched up

After dinner, Waew and I went for a stroll through the sleepy town. It was nearing 11pm on a Saturday night but even so, was very quiet. We attracted the attentions of a barking pack of dogs and unfortunately one of them bit Waew. It was just a “warning” bite rather than an all-out attack, but even so, it drew blood and of course was a distressing moment for Waew.

We dashed across the road to a small seafood eatery which was still open, just to ask to use their bathroom so we could clean the wound and then consider what to do next. But they had seen what had happened and no sooner had we crossed over to them than we were piled on to a motorbike with sidecar and whisked immediately to the hospital.

Waew had her wound cleaned and dressed, received rabies shots and was given a course of antibiotics and, some minor pain aside, she was no worse for wear. While she was being attended to, our emergency-response driver, a friendly middle-aged guy called Somphit, kept me company. Between his limited English and my limited Thai, we made a decent-enough fist of it.

When Waew checked out of the ER, Somphit tried to pay the 580-baht bill. Of course, I would not allow it – he had already been such a help in driving us to the hospital and waiting until Waew had finished there. Now he wanted to pay for the treatment too – unbelievable!

Somphit then ran us back to where we had met him and invited us to join him and his friend for beer and grilled crab. The crab was delicious and the beer quickly dispensed with, at which point Somphit dashed off on his motorbike for more.

When that, too, was finished, Somphit said he’d love to stay up later but he had work in the morning, so gave us another ride, back to our hotel. He had refused to take any money for the beer run, so in thanking him I hid a “tip” in my handshake. I at least wanted to show my gratitude not only for the sustenance and the petrol but also for his time and companionship, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “I did it for friendship, not money,” he said, on the verge of taking offence.

Earlier, Somphit had told us he worked as an ice delivery man. That must pay minimum wage, or close to it, and that’s not much in Thailand. He probably takes home a tenth of my salary, and I say that not to boast about myself (indeed, my salary here is some way short of what I’d command in the UK), but to show what a fiscal gap there is between the Thai working  and middle classes. He must know this too, and knew of my job, and yet he was willing to pay the hospital bill of a stranger and flat-out refusing any form of recompense for his time and expenditure.

I was so touched, and I couldn’t help but feel that if only the rest of Thailand – and certainly the majority of people in Bangkok – could show such unconditional empathy for their fellow human beings, this country would not be in the mess it is in today.

So, to Ko Sichang, to rural Thailand, and to Somphit – whether he accepts it or not – I toast the kindness of strangers. May such powerful qualities triumph over the negative traits which have hurt Thailand so much in recent months.



THE AFTERMATH OF ANARCHY

Downtown Bangkok goes up in flames, May 19. (Photo by www.benowenbrowne.com)

As Bangkok burned, I made good my escape. Evacuated from my workplace as Red Shirts descended on the road to my office, with their brothers bombing and torching dozens of important and iconic buildings around the city, I met my girlfriend Waew and together we headed for Hua Hin, a seaside retreat a couple of hours’ drive south.

My personal experience of the drama of last Wednesday is best told through a piece I wrote for the Daily Post back home in Wales. Beyond that, the story is less exciting, but after the fright of May 19, that’s just how I wanted it.

Ultimately, Wednesday was the climax of the two-month-long protests and Bangkok started the recovery process almost as soon as the curfew was lifted the following morning.

But as fires blazed, black clouds choked entire neighbourhoods, shops boarded up their windows, and the military announced looters and arsonists would be shot on sight, the atmosphere was not one of a resolution close at hand, but rather one of a city on the verge of war.

I didn’t want to be around to see which way the balance would tip. In fact, I wanted to be well clear of Bangkok for the immediate future.

Hua Hin, despite its proximity to the capital, was another world. While reports were coming in of government buildings going up in flames in other cities – mostly in the Red Shirt stronghold of the Isaan region – and after-dark lockdowns being imposed on two dozen provinces, Hua Hin was a picture of calm.

Too calm, however. What is usually a busy resort was almost empty on the weekdays, with only a slight increase in visitor numbers at the weekend. And those were mostly Thais, presumably doing as I did and getting clear of Bangkok. The number of foreign tourists was markedly down. Usually – and typically for a Thai beach town – the foreigners outnumber the locals. In Hua Hin, it’s so much so that it is nicknamed “Little Scandinavia”. But last week and weekend, they were conspicuous by their absence.

Even 12km north of Ratchaprasong, the smoke could be seen clearly from my roof.

Restaurants that had half a dozen customers could consider themselves lucky. Girls working in the salons and spas sat outside and yawned, the interiors of their businesses empty. Bar staff played dominoes or slept, in lieu of anyone to serve. The hotels in town had barely a bedroom light switched on.

Waew and I went out on the weekend nights. We purposely chose the bars with the fewest customers. But it was not for the lack of an atmosphere that I couldn’t enjoy myself. I just couldn’t shake off the feeling of sadness; that perhaps Thailand had changed for the worse – and for good.

The kingdom has shrugged off difficult times before, most notably 1992’s “Black May” anti-government protests which, until last week, were Thailand’s darkest hour. The 2006 ouster of Thaksin Shinawatra generated negative international publicity but thankfully was bloodless. The Yellow Shirt protests in 2008, which closed Suvarnabhumi and Don Mueang airports for a week, affected tens of thousands of tourists, many of whom justifiably swore to never return. Four months later, the Red Shirts made their first serious push, with deadly clashes souring the usually fun-soaked Thai New Year celebrations. And now this – the biggest and bloodiest event in contemporary Thai history.

Each time, Thai tourism has somehow bounced back. The kingdom’s qualities are undeniable – natural beauty, tropical climate, ease of travel, good food, and Third World prices for a near-First World infrastructure – but how many times can the country self-harm before the damage becomes irrecoverable?

Who would blame any foreigner caught up in these domestic conflicts if they washed their hands of this place? The innocent holidaymakers stranded for days on end in an airport in 2008. The terrified tourists who had to evacuate their hotels last week, or could hear the gunfire as they tried to sleep. Anyone planning to come here who watched the news anywhere in the world and saw the biggest smoke cloud to cover a metropolis since 9/11, saw soldiers gunning down their countrymen, saw the protesters fight back with rockets.

Perhaps it’s crass to talk of the tourists’ hardships when so many Thais have died. But let’s not forget that tourism is one of Thailand’s vital organs. Without it, the country itself would wither.

I love this country. Yes, I’m “just a foreigner”, as so many Thais are so keen to point out when I voice a political opinion they disagree with, but this is my home. Of course, I wouldn’t pretend to feel the hurt as acutely as a native, but I know what a marvellous country this is, and as long as I’ve been here, I’ve sung its praises and encouraged everyone I know to come here. It does hurt to see what’s happening here. Let’s say that to a Thai, it’s like seeing family get hurt, so to me, it’s like harm being done to a good friend.

Hua Hin: far from the combat zone

As I said, as long as I’ve been here, I’ve encouraged people to visit. Even when the Yellow Shirts were making life difficult. Even as the Red Shirts occupied Ratchaprasong. It’s not dangerous, I said. Just stay away from the protest sites and you’ll be fine, I said. But with what happened last week, I can no longer urge anyone to come here with a clear conscience. The danger has been very real in the past week and a half.

OK, the current protest is over. The Red Shirts leaders are in custody. The men who fought for them have either gone home, or are dead. But who could say with any confidence that that the matter has been resolved?

For the Red Shirts, ultimately, it was a crushing defeat. It may be that they won’t have the appetite to regroup. Then again, if indeed they do represent the “repressed majority” which they were packaged as, then the divisions can only widen in the wake of this result. The “elites” triumphed, and appalling as it is to say, many of them cheered as the army was given permission to use deadly force against their own kind.

Before the bloodshed, the Reds were not shy to pitch their movement as a “class war”, rallying support from the poor rural areas. Their opponents in turn were not shy to pick up the gauntlet, publicly mocking the protesters for their lack of education. It was no coincidence that Ratchaprasong, a neighbourhood heavy with high-end malls and 5-star hotels, was chosen as the demonstration headquarters.

No, this situation has not been resolved. Perhaps the Reds will prove to have been beaten into submission, but all that means is that one side won by use of force, not that any compromise was reached. Even if a bandage can be applied to the damage done over the past couple of months, the wound may prove impossible to heal. Whether it ulcerates, or merely festers, remains to be seen.

And how to heal the damage done to the tourism industry? Thailand has always been remarkably fertile in this regard, but Hua Hin was barren last week. Can Thai tourism still bear fruit when the likes of Malaysia, Vietnam, Bali, the Philippines and more in this region alone offer a similar – but safer – experience for a similar price?

The forecast can’t fail to be gloomy, and just as I left Bangkok under a black cloud five days ago, I returned under one, too. But this was not the man-made result of eviscerated malls and besieged banks. It was merely Mother Nature, lashing the city with a tropical – and topical – monsoon. Whether she was just washing the streets of spilled blood, or warning of bigger storms to come, only time will tell.



BANGKOK ON THE BRINK OF CIVIL WAR?

Red Shirts on Silom Road

War zone. The brink of anarchy. Bangkok burning.

Front-page headlines from the past few days in the Bangkok Post which are in no way an exaggeration.

The anti-government protests by the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship (UDD), or “Red Shirts”, have been going on for two months now, and friends and family back home who’ve seen dramatic news footage have enquired about my safety, to which I had always replied that “it looks much worse than it is”, and that I was completely safe so long as I stayed away from the demonstration zones.

Not anymore. Now, the news coverage tells it exactly as it is: a full-scale, lethal battle is being waged on the streets of Bangkok. For the first time, I am genuinely worried.

Yes, the combat zone is clearly defined, and therefore easily avoided, but that’s not to say violence won’t spread. Every day comes news of a fresh flashpoint area, or a further fortified protest site, or another bomb attack. Where is safe today may not be safe tomorrow.

Yes, the fighting is between protesters and the soldiers attempting to disperse them, but that’s not to say innocents have not been hurt. They have been, including members of my profession. Bombs and grenades have been fired at hotels and trains.

None of my immediate friends or colleagues have been hurt, although a friend of a friend has been shot in the leg.

One friend lives in Sala Daeng, pretty much “ground central” in the conflict, and spoke to me two nights ago at the same time as bursts of automatic gun fire rang out from a neighbouring street and a blast left his whole house shaking.

Another friend lives in nearby Chit Lom, where the electricty has been cut and the air filled with smoke from burning tyres. They have both moved out, at least for now.

The UDD headquarters at Ratchaprasong

Many businesses, including hotels and schools, have temporarily closed. People who do not have to go to work are taking their families to the countryside. Unfortunately, as a member of the media, I must stay.

As a measure of reassurance, where I live – Phahon Yothin – is fine. There has been no trouble there in as long as the protests have been going on.

The road where my office is situated is also unaffected, although access to it used to typically be via Rama IV Road, a major arterial road on which there is now a running battle and is therefore closed for a long stretch. I go to work by taxi (the entire subway and skytrain networks are closed), taking the tollway over Rama IV and exiting further south, near the port, and heading to the office from there. It’s more expensive commuting this way, but it’s safe.

And while the newspaper must still go out every day, the management has told staff that they don’t have to come to work if it is unsafe to do so. I am a professional and yes, it is safe for me to attend, but for those concerned about me, let me assure you that I will not be taking any risks if that changes.

Only a week ago, we seemed on the verge of resolving the deadlock. Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva had announced a roadmap to reconciliation, including details of a November election and September dissolution of parliament.

Seh Daeng

The Red Shirts provisionally agreed, yet they did not disperse their rally by last Wednesday’s deadline. A few dissenting voices, led by head of security Major General Khattiya Sawasdipol, wanted an immediate election and vowed the protest would continue until they got their wish.

Maj Gen Khattiya – known popularly as “Seh Daeng” (“Commander Red”) – was then shot in the head by a sniper as he spoke to foreign press on Thursday night and chaos has reigned ever since. Seh Daeng died on Monday morning.

The government denied any role in the hit, but then that’s only to be expected, just as the Red Shirts denied any role in the grenade attacks on Silom after the military pitched up there. The government is calling the Reds “terrorists”, yet the death toll is overwhelmingly in favour of the army. The Reds claim to be unarmed, yet rockets have been fired on the Dusit Thani Hotel, which it is alleged was housing soldiers. The military has told of “Red Shirt supporters in army uniforms” killing innocents. The spin on both sides is as undeniable as it is unbelievable.

As I type this, the UDD has agreed to mediated truce talks and is waiting for a response from Abhisit. It sounds hopeful, but then we have been to the brink of peace before only for matters to escalate time and time again.

People have batted the words “civil war” about almost as long as this protest has been running. Until last weekend, such talk sounded alarmist. A month ago, when I visited the UDD’s main stage at Ratchaprasong, it sounded wildly improbable, given that the Reds were engaged in activities no more threatening than singing, dancing, sleeping, eating barbecue and smiling for photos with tourists under a huge English-language banner proclaiming “Welcome to Thailand! All we want is democracy!”.

Now, with buildings and vehicles burning, sharpened bamboo canes and barbed wire sealing off major roads, designated live firing zones, dozens of deaths and hundreds of injuries, civil war no longer looks unrealistic.

I can only hope that I’m wrong.



THE LEO BEER CALENDAR CONTROVERSY: NO SEX (OR BEER) PLEASE, WE’RE THAI

Sex objects forced to flaunt their bodies to promote the devil's nectar

It is often assumed that the people who complain loudest about something have the most to hide. That’s the prevailing logic about homophobia – that those who hate gays do so because they are seeking to deny something about themselves.

And it is certainly the case with the recent controversy over the Leo Beer 2010 calendar launched here in Thailand last week – and promptly banned from sale or distribution by the government.

The reason for the ban was two-fold. First of all, alcohol advertising laws in Thailand forbid the linking of alcohol with fun. Secondly, nudity is forbidden in the media. As this was a calendar promoting beer through the use of body-painted (so, officially nude in that they weren’t actually clothed, even though they were at least visually covered) models, it was always likely to offend someone in a position of power.

Now, if a government wants to control how alcohol is advertised, that is fine. You could even praise them for being responsible about what is, after all, a health issue. Furthermore, there are those who will have their arguments against presenting the female form in a sexual context. Again, there are valid arguments for this.

But this is Thailand. It’s not Utah or Indonesia. I’m not criticising those places, but the point is, they practice what they preach. They set out their stalls and they stick to them. The hypocrisy in the Thai government banning a sexy beer calendar is striking.

Let me take the two offending points one at a time.

First of all, the advertising of alcohol. They say alcohol should not be equated with fun. Fair enough. But then why is it most concerts and festivals here are promoted by major beer and/or whisky brands? Are concerts and  festivals not fun?

A friend of mine went to a Chang Beer-sponsored reggae festival in Bang Saen beach a couple of months ago and said his 1,500 baht (30 pounds) ticket included 32 bottles of beer. Thirty-two! Per person! To be consumed in one day.!Perhaps the logic there is that even if it were physically possible for any human being to drink 32 bottles of Thailand’s strongest beer (6.4%) in one sitting, it would cease to be fun long before you even hit the halfway mark. Alcohol = fun? Not when you’re puking your innards out en route to an 18-hour hangover.

Furthermore, how puritanical can a government be in terms of promoting alcohol, when it is possible – no, easy - to get a drink literally 24 hours a day in Bangkok?

If the government was so concerned with reducing its citizens’ alcohol consumption, then perhaps it would be better served looking into the illegal after-hours pubs, the itinerant street bars, and the unlicensed shops, than cracking down on a calendar which doesn’t even depict actual beer, only the logo of the brand.

Now, personally I’m not against the idea of all-night bars. The responsibility of how much a person drinks, and until when, surely rests with that person. I’m a bit of a night owl and it’s good to know I can go out at 2am if I fancy it. But surely if a person is an irresponsible drinker, it’s more to do with the wide availability of affordable drink in this city, than an affordable drink being painted on a girl’s chest.

Secondly, there is the issue of using nude models to promote a product. Some people will argue that such strategies, or indeed any depiction of the female body in a sexual context, demeans them. I don’t agree with that, so long as there is no exploitation involved, because I know a lot of women take pride in their appearance, their sexiness, and if they have the confidence in themselves and their figures to flaunt them, then that is their choice. For some women, to appear in a tasteful nude calendar would be something to be proud of.

Some people may disagree with this, and that’s fine. Apparently the Thai government is among those people.  Again, it’s not the stance I object to, but the hypocrisy.

Thailand, and Bangkok, justifiably has a worldwide reputation for its vice. Just as I can get a drink at any time of day or night, similarly I could buy sex at any time. Or I could go to watch semi-nude girls parading on stages. Or doing worse. And then I could take one of these girls home for a modest fee.

So, I can watch sexual content in the flesh – I can even indulge in sexual acts for a price - but I can’t buy a sexy calendar. Because there is a beer logo on it.

Right. As if the literally hundreds of go-go bars in Bangkok serve only orange juice.

The point is, if I was of a mind to do so, I could drink myself into oblivion every day and night in Bangkok. At the same time as I did this, I could watch barely-dressed girls in bars. For many, either or both of these factors are what makes Bangkok such an enticing place. Everybody knows this, many people even embrace it, but the only people who make a show of being conservative is the Thai government.

In fact, it wouldn’t be absurd to suggest the government doesn’t actually want to tackle the problems of alcohol and vice, because these industries are simply too profitable. It just wants to be seen to denounce them.

Tackling the problems of alcohol and vice by banning a calendar is like trying to cure skin cancer by putting a plaster over the tumour. Only in this case, it’s a see-through plaster. We all know what’s beneath.

* You can see some of the uncensored images from the calendar here. Judge for yourself if this was worth banning.



CAKE-EATING, TOILET-SQUATTING EX-PM SAMAK SUNDARAVEJ DIES

Samak finds food and politics don't mix

Former Thai Prime Minister Samak Sundaravej died yesterday. He succumbed to liver cancer in Bangkok’s Bumrungrad Hospital, aged 74.

Samak was PM when I moved to Thailand in April last year. He was quite a character and his presence – along with the movements of his rivals and his interactions with the press – could at times be quite comic, if not downright farcical. Before Thai politics turned sour with mob protests, airports seiges and coups, it could even be quite fun to read about Samak’s exploits.

He was the first of three PMs in my time here (three leaders in 19 months in itself is an indictment of the state of Thai politics) and by far the most memorable. He was nowhere near as photogenic as current PM Abhisit Vejjajiva, nor was he anything like as polite as his successor, Somchai Wongsawat, but that is precisely why he made his mark. He behaved aggressively, he was beligerent to the media, he sulked in public, he was unafraid to belittle people if he felt they deserved it, he was stoic in the face of political pressure – and his hardened appearance matched these, ahem, qualities.

In deeply-divided Thailand, he certainly had his critics and enemies. It was his very presence as PM – and the fact that he was an open supporter of Thaksin Shinawatra and his ideology – that sparked the “yellow shirt” protests of the People’s Alliance for Democracy (PAD), who laid seige to the grounds of Government House for weeks while Samak was in charge, and which ultimately – under Somchai’s premiership – led to deaths and the one-week closure of Bangkok’s two airports, causing untold damage to the nation’s economy and reputation.

But I respected Samak’s single-mindedness in the face of such pressure, with not only the PAD but also significant political commentators calling for his head. Not for him the weak attempts to appease all of successor Somchai, whose two and a half months in office were among the more forgettable even in a country known for the transciency of its leaders. Nor for him the squeaky clean, ever-smiling PR profile of Abhisit, who was surely appointed (notice I didn’t say elected) more for his appearance and undoubted charisma than for any heavyweight political credentials.

No, Samak told it the way he saw it, and while that of course didn’t mean he was always right, it did at least show he had the courage of his convictions, and to express himself publicly without first needing a spin doctor to polish his words.

Now, as stated before, I’m not a political analyst. This is not my area of strength, although like most people I have my own political opinions. But the news of Samak’s passing gave me cause to remember some of his more colourful moments.

Cake-eating cat

First of all, before the squabbling erupted into violent demonstrations, there was the usual tit-for-tat name-calling in Government House, with one opposition politician (I forget her name) bringing Samak to task for his choice of cafeteria food. As a man in his seventies, she said it was inappropriate for him to choose a piece of cake for lunch, washed down with a glass of bright red soft drink. She suggested Samak seek psychological help, because Adolf Hitler was known to have similarly immature tastes.

Now, even within the realms of political cat-calling, which often amounts to no more than childish spats along the lines of “You smell!” “Yeah? Well, you smell worse!”, this was adorably convoluted. Never mind education, employment and crime – “Prime Minister, would you care to justify buying that cake? Because I’m rather worried it is a sign you may be a tyrant in the making, capable of ordering the slaughter of millions.”

Samak, as was his wont, barely dignified the comment, choosing instead to fix her with a customary silent staredown.

But Samak’s finest hour would not have looked out of place in an episode of Fawlty Towers, such was the level of high farce.

Pursued on motorbikes by a press pack from Government House to Chatuchak Market, Samak sought refuge in a public toilet. Not wishing to speak to the media, he remained in a cubicle, but unfortunately for him the journalists proved even more stubborn than he. More than an hour later, Samak could no longer stand the heat, moisture, smell and mosquitoes (I have been to the toilets at Chatuchak Market and they’re no place for a dignitary, let me tell you), and emerged, furious and doused with sweat.

He ignored the reporters’ questions (surely the fact he spent an hour inside a toilet cubicle would have told them he was in no mood to speak?), instead bearing down on them with a fuming glare of which Charles Bronson would have been proud. After staring them into silence, he set about berating them and their conduct, and labelling them “disgusting” no less than a dozen times.

Reaction to this incident depended, of course, on which side you were on – either Samak was rightly defending himself against media intrusion, or he showed an arrogant disrespect towards the free press, who were just doing their job in the public interest.

There’s a bit of truth to both sides, but the bigger picture for me at the time was the fun factor of living in a country where the PM is forced to flee halfway across a city as hungry hacks literally chase him into a stinking, mosquito-blown long-drop. Add to that the picture of the nation’s leader stewing there for over an hour, followed by his ultimate outburst, and clearly you can see Samak Sundaravej was not your average politican.

And his eventual dismissal from office in September 2008, after just eight and a half months, was also unorthodox, if not comic for its irony. While the country’s leading industries of tourism, exports and foreign investment were taking near-death blows from the effects of the protracted demonstrations, and while the spectre of corruption hung over everything Thaksin and his allies did, it was none of these concerns which spelled the end for Samak. No, he was booted out because he had twice appeared on a TV cooking show. Innocent enough, except politicians are not allowed to accept money for working with private enterprises. Samak’s fee was nominal and his appearance of no bearing whatsoever to his political standing, but this was a conflict of interest. Not quite along the lines of Thaksin using his position to allow his then-wife Potjaman na Pombejra to purchase multi-million-baht swathes of land, but still, rules are rules…

Ultimately, it may have been a face-saving move. As pathetic a reason it may have seemed for removing a democratically elected PM, Thailand was at the time being virtually held hostage by protesters, with the international news coverage doing the country no favours. There were far bigger concerns than the PM’s appearance on a cookery show, but Samak was steadfast in his refusal to stand down or dissolve the cabinet, the two main demands of the PAD, despite the presence of 30,000 protesters camping out on the lawns of his workplace.

So while the cookery show controversy was of negligible importance, by following the law to the letter, the courts could remove him from office legitimately. And with that removal came a lull – as temporary was it was – in the tensions. The PAD had not been placated, as the Thaksin-backed People Power Party was still in charge, but tempers were nevertheless calmed, and at a critical time.

It also proved timely for Samak himself. Despite being disqualified from the premiership, he had the opportunity to return to power if voted back in, but instead he accepted the judgement and retreated from politics. It seemed strange for such a combative man to slip away from the spotlight so quickly and readily.

But then news came less than a month later that he had been diagnosed with liver cancer, and it all made sense. It’s unknown how long he’d been sick. Indeed, it’s likely he was running the country while ill. Considering how stressful a task that must have been in the late summer of 2008, that shows either remarkable devotion or unwavering stubborness. In Samak’s case, it was probably a bit of both.

He flew to the US for treatment in the new year, returning to Bangkok and continuing to be treated at Bumrungrad, one of the country’s best hospitals. After roughly a year battling the disease, he passed away at 8:48am yesterday morning.



CATCHING UP: THAILAND’S TROUBLES
Yellow shirts rise up

Yellow shirts rise up

The first item on the agenda is to fill in the gaps between September 2008 and September 2009, before I will start writing about more timely stuff, as and when it happens. I will be concise, because 12 months is a long time to chronicle, and will perhaps return to certain points in more detail at a later date.

There have been two major anti-government protests during my time here. The first, aforementioned one culminated in the “yellow shirts”, or People’s Alliance for Democracy (PAD) closing down Bangkok’s two airports for a week in November. This essentially forced out the then-government led by Prime Minister Somchai Wongsawat, to be replaced by the unelected then-opposition Democrat Party Abhisit Vejjajiva.

The PAD, despite the use of the word “democracy” in its name, was protesting against a government which had been democratically elected, and happy enough that their favoured premier took the reins without the public having been asked their opinion on the matter.

Inevitably, there was in turn a corresponding protest against the new government, this time by the “red shirts”, or United Front of Democracy Against Dictatorship (UDD). This protest, in April, was shorter-lived but more violent, as the army, which sat idly by when the entire nation was essentially held hostage by the PAD’s closure of the capital’s airpots, suddenly sprang to life and quelled the UDD’s uprising in very short order. When you compare the two incidents, it doesn’t take much to suspect that the army – which is supposed to be an independent defender of the nation’s security - might be acting on orders from higher powers with vested interests in who runs the country.

But things have quietened down since then. Sure, there are still gatherings and arguments, and I suspect the situation is simmering rather than solved, but PM Abhisit, despite his tenuous rise to power, seems to be a calming influence – charismatic, good-looking, multilingual and media savvy, with more presence than Somchai, a less combative stance than Samak Sundaravej and – on the surface, at least – without the scandals that follow Thaksin Shinawatra. Abhisit could just be a PR job, but he is for now providing at least a symptomatic cure, and there is value in that.




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