Not All Smiles In The Land Of Smiles

So it’s time to talk about the political atmosphere here before it becomes irrelevant. I became aware of a certain level of strife in Thailand not before I had decided to teach English abroad, not before I had narrowed my destinations down to Thailand and Croatia, not while researching what to expect once I got to Thailand (beyond what I already knew of the border skirmishes near Malaysia and Cambodia), not when I talked to my friend Noland in the few weeks leading up to my departure and arrival. Through my ignorance, not until reading a copy of the The Nation upon boarding my fourth plane on the way to Chiang Mai did I become aware of the alleged corruption and subsequent upheaval emanating from and directed at seats of power in Thailand, respectively.

For those of you who don’t know, as I didn’t: Thailand’s government is a constitutional monarchy, meaning that the King is head of state (the world’s longest reigning monarch), a figurehead with very little direct power, but one that commands the undying love and respect of the whole nation. The Prime Minister is the head of government.

The front page of The Nation, Friday 25 September, 2008, announced that recently elected Prime Minister Somchai Wongsawat of the People’s Power Party would be appointing his cabinet positions that day, many of which were publicly criticized, not unexpectedly, by the Democratic Party and the PAD, the People’s Alliance for Democracy. The PAD, or the Yellow-Shirts (yellow being the official color of the King), are not a political party, but more of a highly-coordinated group of protesters, originally formed in 2006 specifically to speak out against former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, who was exiled amidst allegations of corruption, treason, authoritarianism, and above all else, lese majeste, which was the PAD’s chief concern with Thaksin and his proxies; that they were trying to undermine the power of the King himself. The group has the support of some highly respected members of the Democratic Party, including co-leader and media-mogul Sondhi Limthongkul. Sondhi opposed Somchai, who happens to be Thaksin’s brother-in-law, in the recent elections, which only took place because another former Prime Minister Samak Sundaravej, Thaksin’s replacement, resigned after being found guilty by the Constitutional Court for “conflict of interest” after he hosted a cooking show without the Court’s permission. A cooking show.

So that’s what I was flying into, unbeknownst to me until it was too late. Government House had been usurped months ago by the PAD, who were now using it as their own base of operations, forcing the new PM to hole up in a vacant VIP lounge in the middle of an undisclosed airport, from which the executive decisions of the country were now being handed down. Most of the drama was limited to Bangkok, so I wasn’t too worried about my trip being affected, as I was to be living several hundred miles north of the unrest. Little did I know.

Those of you that have already read one of my earlier posts on my first couple of days in CM know that my trip was indeed affected by the political protesting and the government’s lashing out in response, though somewhat indirectly (see Afternoon Uprising…). But the incident in the park only intrigued me further, and prompted me to begin asking questions; questions that made a lot of people very uncomfortable. Questions like, “Who did you vote for?” or “Who do you support, the PPP or PAD?” While a lot of the locals were very forthcoming when it came to talking about issues of sex, sexual orientation, drugs, money, or the current affairs of just about anywhere other than Thailand, they got down-right spooked when I asked for their perspective on what was going on down south, to the point where more than one person walked away from me in the middle of a conversation. I attributed this to the proximity these discussions had to the Royal Family, and understood people’s unwillingness to take sides when it was so unclear which side had the monarchy’s best interests in mind, or that the ruling PPP was popular in the north region of Thailand, of which Chiang Mai was a part. Granted, the PAD’s primary criticism of all three of the former PMs (Thaksin, Samak, and Somchai) and the ruling political party, the PPP, was that they were becoming dangerously insubordinate to the King, their actions resembling those of a presidency, and a president in effect would replace the monarchy, heretical even to think about. However, one had to keep in mind that the main voice behind the PAD, Sondhi, could be considered the Rupert Murdoch of Thailand; all the press about both the PAD and PPP, positive and negative, went through him like a sieve. I’m not even sure if the King himself knows how loyal the PAD actually is, or if he’s just being used as the Father of all political tools. Sondhi and his media conglomerate have been under financial scrutiny long before Thaksin ever took office; nevertheless he’s been very successful in recruiting the middle- and upper-class to his cause, along with several highly respected Buddhist monks.

After several fruitless conversations (even Burm didn’t want to talk about it), I gave up on my inquiries and reluctantly relied on the media for news of any progress. Then, on the 7th of October, there was blood spilled in Bangkok. Thousands of PAD protesters filled the streets of the nation’s capital, attempting to shut-down the planned reopening of parliament. PM Somchai, who was already at parliament before the protesters formed en masse, was forced to escape via helicopter after climbing over a fence on the rear grounds of the building. The demonstration continued all day, prompting the police to use riot-gear and tear-gas, a force that resulted in two dead and 400 injured, and the whole nation would know. There was no rose-colored lens. The next day, newspaper photos and video-footage streamed unfiltered images of blood and dismemberment; carnage the likes of which you have never seen on a FOX newscast, no doubt due to the journalistic affiliations of the PAD. The coverage was effective. Later that week, the Police Commissioner in BKK, whose name I can’t recall, publicly refused to follow a direct order from PM Somchai, to use deadlier force for any future demonstrations; a decisive statement that made clear who the Commissioner’s sympathies sided with. “That is it!” I remember thinking to myself, after seeing the news finally hit CNN and the BBC, “I have got to get down to Bangkok!” The excitement was beyond palpable. The sights, sounds and smell of revolution, whether right or wrong, were unmistakable.

Two days after the riots, I decided to make my way to the train station for a quick jaunt down south. “If anything,” I thought to myself, “I could do a little job-hunting; as the pickings seemed a little slim in CM.” I talked to the house-mother of Santitham about arranging a ride over to the station, and she seemed aghast at my request.
“No, no, no!! You cannot go to train today!”
“Why not? What’s wrong?”
“Uhh, they…They mopping streets. Mopping streets!”
“They’re mopping the streets? Oh. Well, uh, when can I go?”
“Not today. Uh, I think not this week. Maybe next week.”
“Oh. Ok. Thanks, Nung.”
Something wasn’t right. Maybe it was the look of sheer terror that street-cleaning brought to Nung’s face, but something told me I didn’t quite understand what house-mom was trying to tell me. I needed to talk to someone else about this, and Berm wasn’t around, so I left Santitham for some lunch and a fresh interpretation.

As I walked around the neighborhood, there was a noticeable absence of street vendors. Several businesses were closed, including most of the restaurants I often visited for lunch. There were very few tuk-tuks and motorbikes about, shit even the dogs seemed to have disappeared. When I finally tracked Berm down later that afternoon, he told me that thousands of people all over the city were departing CM for Bangkok to either join in the protests or to visit family members they were concerned about. This is why house-mom had spurned me from the train-station. Not because they were mopping the streets, but because there were mobs in the streets. The trains, planes, and automobiles were making a mass exodus to BKK, so much so that many people were stranded in CM and had decided to hold there own demonstrations right there on the spot.

Events transpired against my leaving for BKK, and for weeks after the October violence, negotiation and compromise between the two warring factions hit a wall. Somchai did not back down, even after facing criticism within his own administration. Not until I had moved 700 miles south to Surat Thani about a month later did I give much thought to the matter; not until the PAD had effectively shut-down the entire country by cutting it off from the rest of the world, taking over both Bangkok airports and stemming the flow of the nation’s chief source of income, tourism (losses were estimated in the billions). Unfortunately, the PAD decided to launch their assault just days before the tragically infamous incident in Mumbai. I watched the news as several Thais, stranded in India after a nightmarish affair, having lost friends or family in the attacks on the Oberoi Trident, Taj Mahal and other Mumbai sites, trying to return home to Thailand, only to be thwarted by the now seemingly petty actions of the PAD, all flights home having been cut-off. I remember this day more vividly than any other that I’ve spent in SE Asia before or since. This was a day that I lived closer to a reality beyond my comprehension or control than any other day in my life. So, I suppose this story serves no better purpose than to show how little I know of the world I just recently began to live in, and how frustrating it can be to even try and figure it out.

Happier notes to come.