bangkok dave

Democrats Lose Thailand’s 2011 General Election but Secure a Crucial Win in Bangkok

Divided by color, with a mess in the middle. Graphic by @Mr_Pradit (The Nation)

Yesterday, on July 3, Pheu Thai (PT), Thaksin Shinawatra’s proxy party, scored a decisive victory over the Democrats,Thailand’s ruling party since 2008. At last count, PT had won 265 parliamentary seats to Democrats’ 159 (updated from 262-160 on the graphic above). As a result, Abhisit Vejjajiva, Thailand’s acting PM, offered his resignation today as Democrat party leader.

PT’s win can be said to be primarily a victory for Thaksin’s marketing and propaganda machine, though there are certainly other key factors involved, including some voters’ desire for change and the Democrats’ lackluster campaign. Here are my brief initial thoughts on how Democrats and PT did in Thailand’s regions.

THE NORTHEAST (ISAAN)

PT was going to win here no matter what, but they did better than expected, mainly at the expense of Bhum Jai Thai, Democrats’ ally, who performed worse than they’d hoped. Democrats were hoping to pick up a few seats, but that hope didn’t materialize. They kept seats in Ubon Ratchathani and Amnat Charoen but lost a seat in Yasothon. They won no seats in Nakorn Ratchasima and didn’t maintain their December 2010 by-election surge in Khon Kaen (though, they did better there than in 2007). As Isaan is the heart of Thaksin’s support, this is where his campaign had found the most resonance.

THE NORTH

While the North is another PT stronghold, the Democrats did about as well here as in 2007. However they lost the seat they held in Chiang Mai since the 2009 by-election, and with that, their presence in the northern capital. This was an important symbolic defeat for the Democrats.

THE SOUTH

In the near- mirror image of PT’s sweep of Isaan, the Democrats have kept near-total control of the South. The couple of seats PT held in Narathiwat and Yala were lost to the Democrats. In fact, the Democrats’ control of the South is now far more complete than PT’s control of the Northeast, as Democrats still retain a few seats in Isaan, and third parties like Bhum Jai Thai and CPPP maintain a presence in several provinces. By contrast, the Democrats enjoy a near-clean sweep of the South.

CENTRAL REGION

Just looking at the map tells the story: Central Thailand is a patchwork of colors, and this is where the decisive battle of this election was held. The Democrats did not gain electoral control of this region in the 2007 poll, but neither did PT (or rather, its predecessor, PPP). The region was split between the Democrats, PT and Chart Thai. Coming into the election, Democrats were leading the polls in the region, and it was crucial for them to translate this lead into a victory on election day. It never happened. Democrats lost seats instead, while PT gained them, especially around Nakhon Pathom, Pathum Thani and Sa Kaew. Chonburi was the worst disaster, as Democrats went from full control of the province to just 1 seat. PT gained their first 2 seats in southern Chonburi, while a third-party, Phalang Chon, took most of the rest. Chachoensao was a small consolation prize as Democrats took 2 seats there but at the expense of a third party, not PT.

It is in central Thailand  that many of those who opted for PT probably did so less out of ideological fervor and more out of disenchantment with the ruling party over a number of issues, including economic ones. Here is where Democrats needed to explain themselves, their policies, their achievements, their vision the most – but, in the end, failed to do so and paid the price. 

BANGKOK

Thailand’s capital is where the Democrats scored their key victory in the election, and despite polls that predicted their defeat, beat PT decisively, 23-10 seats. They won the capital after switching to a more aggressive campaign that included a rally in Bangkok’s most politicized intersection, Rajprasong (see here). While some are calling the PT win a landslide, it is, in fact, hard to call it that when the winning party fails to capture the capital. A win without Bangkok is not the knockout Thaksin was hoping to deliver, and it leaves the Democrats in a stronger position than they would’ve been otherwise. Without this victory, the Democrats would’ve suffered a severe psychological and symbolic blow; with it, they can maintain a legitimacy to speak for Bangkok’s residents, a key national constituency.

However, the Democrats’ win was not as decisive as it should’ve been. They lost both seats and percentage of support compared with the 2007 poll. The margin of victory in some constituencies was fairly narrow, and fresh off their national victory, PT can claim that they actually have the momentum of support in the capital. An important part of the reason for the Democrats’ loss of votes is the ‘No Vote’ campaign by the PAD and its allies, which split the Democrats’ natural constituency. Time will tell whether PT’s national victory will serve to strengthen or weaken Democrat support in Bangkok.

In many ways, the result of the election shows Thailand has a clear geographical rather than an urban/rural divide. This has been the case for some time now, but the divisions are probably starker in this election than any other one before it. It also shows that despite, PT’s strong win, the nation remains deeply divided, both along geographical and ideological lines.

A personal report from the Democrat rally at Rajprasong, held on Thursday, June 23, 2011, as part of their campaign during Thailand’s general election.

The approach to Rajprasong: business almost as usual

As my motorbike taxi approached Rajprasong intersection, there seemed to be tension in the air. Rain had recently passed but the darkening sky was still grey. The traffic on Ploenchit Road was unusually sparse; motorists were clearly avoiding the area. There was a good reason to be nervous. In an act of open defiance to the red shirts, the Democrats were holding their first rally at Rajprasong.

“A rally at Rajprasong.” The very concept had by now become synonymous with the red shirt protests. First the deadly standoff in April-May 2010, then a series of one-day rallies ostensibly to commemorate the dead from that spring. But those rallies had another goal: to instill a ‘truth’ inThailand’s collective consciousness that Rajprasong had become a symbol of red-shirt suffering and oppression at the hands of the Democrat government, the army and the ‘elites.’

Now, by staging their own rally in the heart of ‘red Rajprasong,’ the Democrats were about to smash headlong into this narrative, into this ‘truth’ with another one of their own. Rajprasong was to be reclaimed – something that many supporters of the party and opponents of the red shirts and Thaksin felt was long overdue.

As I got off the motorbike in front of Amarin Plaza, I remained nervous. A day earlier, red-shirt core leader, Pheu Thai party-list candidate and bullshitter extraordinaire, Natthawut Saikua, warned Thais that he had access to a mysterious ‘intelligence report’ that scary men from Isaan who are totally not red shirts would descend on the rally with some very ill intentions. Despite the sheer absurdity of a man charged with terrorism having access to an ‘intelligence report,’ the warning still caused some jitters. While it was clear that Natthawut’s game was to sow fear and confusion through cryptic threats in order to keep supporters from attending the rally, trouble could still have easily materialized from many quarters. Rajprasong had long become the most politicized and controversial location in Bangkok.

The magic number for the night

As I approached the BTS Skywalk leading to Rajprasong, I instinctively looked for signs of a rally a la UDD: angry voices booming from loudspeakers; road blocks and rows of vehicles stuck along the road; crowds milling about. People were definitely making their way towards the rally site, but otherwise the sights and sounds were fairly ordinary. Was the rally delayed? Was it cancelled? What happened? 

Finally, as I made my way along the Skywalk over the Rajprasong crossing, I saw something genuinely confounding: the intersection was completely… open, with the traffic flowing through it like on any other night, if with a bit less congestion. Only one lane was blocked off, signaling that something was indeed going on. But the vendors clogged parts of the sidewalk as usual, with pedestrians squeezing themselves past their stalls. It looked like a normal evening in central Bangkok.

Even before I could enter its site on the plaza in front of Central World, even before I could make out its sounds in the distance, it became clear that this rally was different from those held by the red shirts before it. The Democrats would not shut down the city’s most sensitive intersection to make a political point. This was going to be a ‘normal’ political rally in a place that has not experienced anything of the sort in a long time.

Of course, the Democrats did announce that the intersection would be kept open, but I remained dubious. Red shirts had always used the pretext that there were simply too many people at their rallies, and a spillover into the streets was inevitable. The Democrats would probably not have much trouble gathering enough supporters if the intent was to match red shirt numbers, and could’ve used the same excuse.

But they didn’t. And by keeping their word, the Democrats were making another point: a rally at Rajprasong does not have to be disruptive to the city and the people who work there. It is possible to organize it in a way that allows the rest of the area to function. And when the red shirts decide it’s time to go back there (which they inevitably will), they are likely to face new pressure to keep it contained.* The ‘limited’ rally concept was both clever and admirable; for once, the Democrats got ahead of the curve.

The Battle of the Truths

Raised hands and loud cheers...

My friends and I arrived at the rally site while Suthep was already on stage and left when Abhisit finished his hour-long speech at around 10.30pm. The plaza was packed with thousands of supporters, and movement through this mass of people was excruciatingly slow and difficult. It wasn’t until hours later when Abhisit spoke that we had finally settled in at an elevated lookout spot left of the stage. But the atmosphere was jubilant and friendly the entire time. Any nervousness one might have had earlier had evaporated at the rally site. There were no incidents with any red shirts (who appeared to heed the calls of their leaders and stayed away, as did Natthawut’s mystery men), and no public safety issues; the whole thing went off without a hitch.

As my Thai is abysmal (despite having lived here for many years), I relied on a friend for occasional scraps of translation thrown my way. With those I got the gist of most of the speeches. Suthep focused on the violence of April 10 and the days that followed. He made a point that no protester had actually died at Rajprasong. This is, strictly speaking, correct. The only person known to have died in the immediate vicinity was a looter killed in the arson that followed the dispersal of the rally on May 19. I had myself made the point that the red shirts were creating a myth of martyrdom around Rajprasong that did not reflect reality. People were certainly killed – on Rachadamnoen, in Lumphini, on Rama 4, in Din Daeng, in Silom, at Wat Prathum – but excepting that one unlucky looter, not actually at Rajprasong, as red shirts like to ceaselessly remind us.

Inside the rally site: no seat left unoccupied

Does it matter? People had been killed, hadn’t they?

Leaving aside for the moment that many of those killed were actually the security forces attempting to enforce the law – as well as the circumstances that led to those and all the other deaths – it certainly does matter that no protesters were killed at the intersection. By accepting Rajprasong’s ‘innocence’, you deprive it of its symbolism and start questioning the motives of those wishing to return there for ceaseless ‘commemoration’ ceremonies. Rajprasong has kept alive the myth of red-shirt victimhood and allowed them to ignore unpleasant realities, such as a fact that their side fired the first shots on April 10 (at 4.15pm, likely by red guards or other armed protesters, at army helicopters, wounding a soldier) and according to independent findings, killed the first several victims in the conflict.

Suthep wasn’t wrong in pointing out the reality of who died and didn’t die at Rajprasong. He, along with the entire government he’s been serving, were wrong in not clearly pointing this out a year ago, and at least a hundred times since then, thereby derailing the red-shirt narrative from the get-go.  The post-May 19 red shirt campaign at Rajprasong had two goals: to erase the red shirts’ culpability in the  preceding violence and to push out of the national consciousness the images of calculated arson, which is what Rajprasong symbolized immediately after May 19. That the red shirts largely succeeded in these goals speaks of an immense failure on the part of the government to counter their propaganda effectively. 

Now, a year later, it sounded like Suthep was going against an established ‘truth,’ which simply showed how ingrained red-shirt propaganda had become. But here was the entire point of the Democrat rally: to battle the red-shirt ‘truth’ with one of their own.

Abhisit in the Spotlight

Abhisit passionately pleads his case

When Abhisit had finally arrived, the crowd began to cheer wildly, as if a rock star were about to take the stage. The atmosphere was electrifying, and it was hard not to get caught up in the excitement. This is not uncommon at rallies where collective emotional responses can sweep over a crowd of thousands; it was certainly true on this night. Abhisit was indeed the star; and it was clear that those cheering him on were pinning their hopes for Thailand (for better or worse) on his continued political success.

Though I could not understand what Abhisit was saying, I could easily see that he was eloquent and emotional throughout his speech and was certainly able to connect with the crowd. However, whenever groups of people started chanting his name, he continued speaking, putting an end to the chants rather than letting them play themselves out – and allow both himself and the crowds to bask in a bit of adulation. These moments were awkward and they showed that as a speaker, Abhisit did not fully grasp and utilize the power he had at his disposal over the adoring crowds.

Was this symbolic of the man himself? Had Abhisit been a reluctant ruler over these past 2 years, someone too unsure of himself to fully assert his power as PM? Was he too hesitant to get a proper grip over a bitterly divided country and a measure of control over the virtually independent security forces?

The crowd, several thousand strong, listens to Abhisits speech

These are the questions that may well decide the outcome of the election, but at least on this Thursday night, Abhisit was clearly in control. He spoke passionately, reiterating that he never wanted bloodshed (and admitting that he wept on the night of April 10 when the first victims had died) and appealed to Thais to reject Thaksin’s ‘poison’ once and for all.

At one point Abhisit said he wished he had 46 billion baht in personal fortune, just so he could give it all away to Thaksin – on a condition that he leaves Thailand alone. It was a poignant plea, and one that would appeal to many Thais, but in reality Thaksin is not coming back for the money (or, more precisely, not just for the money) – he’s coming back for power. Even if Abhisit’s wish somehow came true, it would never stop Thaksin from trying to return and reclaim what he believes is rightly his: Thailand’s destiny.

As the rally drew to a close, supporters lined up to bring their embattled hero flowers, and no doubt, words of encouragement. The crowds left in visibly good spirits as they made an orderly way out of the plaza.

Addressing the crowds on Democrat stage

So, was the rally as controversial and divisive as it was hyped up to be? Yes, but… The Democrats pulled no punches against the opposition and made it clear that they believed Thailand faced a stark choice on election day. They challenged the red shirts in the heart of their most symbolic venue and reminded the nation that of how organized thugs burned Thailand’s capital.

But frankly, so what? Thaksin, his operatives and members of the red-shirt movement have been staging provocations that included riots, arson, beatings, armed attacks, hospital invasions, murders and an attempted insurrection. What is wrong in stating that such violent tactics should be condemned, not rewarded? What is wrong in symbolically reclaiming Rajprasong from the red shirts and reminding the public that this space that belongs to all Thais, and that despite their myth-making, red shirts have no special claim to it?

Whatever his failings, Abhisit is a leader of what has been recognized by most people as a legitimate government of Thailand; and its opponents, no matter how deeply they hate it, have no right to attempt to forcibly remove it from power (especially when they cite the forced removal of Thaksin as assault on ‘true’ democracy – an action that Abhisit and the Democrats had no involvement with). The Democrats had no choice but hold a rally in Rajprasong not because they weren’t doing well in the polls – but because, as a legitimate democratic government of Thailand, they owed that much to their constituents and the public at large.

The rally was powerful and, yes, it was certainly provocative, but the only mistake was not holding it much earlier on in the campaign. The Democrats should have drawn the battle lines at the start – not now, when the game is nearly over.

Flowers and garlands from supporters

*If the Democrats were able to secure permission and cooperation of Central World to legally use its plaza for the rally, similar courtesy can and should be extended to other political groups in the future, provided they also agree to minimize any disruption to the surrounding areas.

Published in The Nation, June 24, 2011

A little over a year ago, groups of men associated with the red shirt protest, set fire to nearly 40 major building in Bangkok, including the city’s premier shopping complex, Central World, as well as several government buildings in the provinces. Today, core red-shirt leaders including Natthawut Saikua, who has been charged with terrorism and had openly called for mass arson if his demands were not met by the Thai government, is one of the top names on the opposition Pheu Thai party list.

He dines in sophisticated restaurants and orders expensive wine while the nanny looks after the kids. Meanwhile the damage from the arson has been estimated to be in the billions of baht, as hundreds have lost their livelihoods, thousands have lost their jobs, millions have suffered the economic consequences.

Where is the outrage?

The UDD is calling for PM Abhisit’s government to account for the 92 who died during last years’ protests. Fair enough – until you consider that on April 10, 2010, pro-red militants fired the first shots that started the chain of violence. The responsibility for the first victims –soldiers, who were unarmed – can be laid squarely at the feet of the red-shirt leaders; yet, to date, in a perfect example of the double standards they love to decry, no one among them has accepted it. In fact, these are the same people about to enter parliament as MPs with immunity from prosecution.

Where is the disgust?

Yingluck Shinawatra has been hand-picked by her older brother and former PM Thaksin, to lead the opposition. She has no political experience, her male handlers and PR operatives control everything she says and does; she is not allowed to participate in a political debate, something that other democracies consider an essential part of an election campaign. She has been branded a ‘clone’ by Thaksin himself. Yet Thais are told her candidacy is a triumph for feminism and progress.

Where is the derision?

Yingluck has also concealed shares for Thaksin, a fugitive from justice, and allegedly lied on the stand – 3 times – to protect him. Her party deflects these uncomfortable accusations, but the bottom line is that a very wealthy and connected woman who may already have lied repeatedly to protect her family riches in a celebrated corruption case is well on her way to becoming Thailand’s new leader.

Where is the scrutiny?

Have Thais, particularly the residents of the capital, forgotten how and why their city burned? Do they accept it as normal that men who instigated those and other violent acts are about to walk into their parliament? Are they genuinely so smitten with Yingluck’s smile that they don’t see the privilege, corruption and blatant cynicism behind it? Worse yet, do they not see the violence that lurks behind this placid, affable but ultimately powerless woman?

Why do Thais seem ready to choose Pheu Thai?

There are many answers to this question, from the opposition’s superior use of PR and the Democrats’ inexcusably lame campaign posters to Thaksin’s enduring popularity and Abhisit’s questionable leadership skills. One can even posit that the government has been a little too successful at creating the illusion of normalcy, allowing the public to ignore the dangers of extremist elements within the Pheu Thai gaining power.

But PR and perception issues aside, if willingness to resort to murder and arson are in and of themselves not enough to stir enduring outrage, what is? What will it take for the majority of Thais who are neither red nor yellow to reject those who embrace extremism?

And finally, for PM Abhisit and the Democrats: there is so much you can debunk, ridicule, expose and attack – so, what are you waiting for? Have you no ability or will to fight an election?

This is a response to ‘Tongue-Thai’ed,’ Saksith Saiyasombut’s tongue-in-cheek series of columns appearing in the ‘Siam Voices’ blog of the AsianCorrespondent.com site. To quote the column’s motto:

“‘Tongue-Thai’ed!’ encapsulates the most baffling, amusing, confusing, outrageous and appalling quotes from Thai politicians and other public figures – in short: everything we hear that makes us go ‘Huh?!’”

In one recent installment of the series, ‘Tongue-Thai’ed! Part V: Shooting for sympathy,’ Saksith explores the Democrat Party deputy PM Suthep Thaugsuban’s admittedly intriguing pronouncement that:

“Some parties and some persons are deliberately creating a situation [or scenario] by shooting their own cars or throwing bombs and blaming other parties or their rivals”

Suthep was referring to a violent incident, one of several where vehicles, houses and candidates themselves were attacked, all in connection with the campaign for the July 3 general election – and adding his own unique Suthepian spin. And in fairness, his claim did seem silly, conspiratorial and unnecessarily defensive.

Of course, Suthep has a proven track record of shooting himself in the foot  (pun, sort of intended), so he is an easy target for ridicule. But two questions arise: Was his assertion completely ‘outrageous and appalling’ in Thailand’s polarized and violent political environment, and is he the only person or group making these sorts of pronouncements?

I’d have to say the answer to both is No.

Let’s examine the second point first. Suthep’s suggestion– the idea that one party is staging attacks on itself to frame its opponents or create sympathy – actually mirrors a number of similar accusations by the government’s opponents, the red shirts. In a recent Bangkok Post editorial, Veera Prateepchaikul discusses a few examples:

“Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva has complained that, on several occasions, his visits to some communities during his election campaign have been disrupted by red-shirt followers who jeered or booed at him.

But the UDD co-leaders shrugged off the accusation, claiming that these trouble-makers were fake red shirts who simply donned red shirts to discredit their movement.”

This ‘fake red’ line of defense has become well known over the last few years, and Veera reminds us of other times the red shirts dismissed responsibility for any action that did not reflect well on them:

“Similarly, the red-shirt people who were seen or photographed looting valuables or torching property during the May 2010 protest, have been dismissed by the UDD as opportunists who had nothing to do with their movement.

Even the red-shirt thugs who were seen attacking Mr Abhisit’s chauffeured limousine by many witnesses during the red-shirt protest in April 2009, were dismissed by the UDD as a ‘stage-managed trick’ by the government to discredit the UDD.”

And presumably, to create sympathy for the beleaguered PM, trapped in his car as it’s being violently attacked.

The most serious allegation of this sort was that the army assassinated its own men on April 10 in order to frame the red shirts and justify a violent response against them. The accusation was obviously denied by the government and dismissed by the recently released Human Rights Watch report, which identified the ‘men in black’ who attacked and killed the security forces as militants affiliated with the red shirts. Yet despite this and the fact that the militants appeared to penetrate and move around the tightly guarded protest site with complete ease and no resistance from the armed red guards, leaders or other protesters, the red shirts have always steadfastly denied any links to them. The ‘men in black’ were fake reds.

Back to the current election campaign, where the issue of fake reds versus real ones has become more confusing than ever. Several days ago, UDD chair Thida Thavornseth invoked the elusive fake reds, claiming they were behind the disruptions to Abhisit’s campaign, as mentioned in Veera’s op-ed above, to discredit the real red shirts and create sympathy for the Democrats.

Yet soon afterwards, red-shirt core leader and Phua Thai party-list candidate Natthawut Saikua called on presumably real red shirts to leave Abhisit’s campaign alone. This, from The Nation:

“Natthawut…called on red-shirt people to stop trying to disrupt the election campaigns of Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva. Natthawut said he had called Thida Thavornset, the chairwoman of the DAAD, asking her to tell red-shirt people to stop hounding Abhisits’ rallies. ‘I would like all the red-shirt people to stop hounding Abhisit,’ Natthawut said.”

So which is it, fake reds or real? Do we listen to Thida or to Natthawut? And when Natthawut called Thida to tell her to call off the red ‘hounds’, did she mention to him that she couldn’t do that as they were, in fact, fake reds? Sadly, no one in either mainstream or alternative English-language media bothered to have a bit of fun with this little discrepancy. Seems like a perfect story for a ‘Tongue-Thai’ed’ column to me!

In any event, while Suthep’s claim may well be ridiculous, is it any less absurd than similar assaults on common sense launched by red-shirt leaders like Thida? Why single him out and let her off the hook, if we’re being fair?

Finally, let’s address the first point: Is it possible that Suthep’s claim has some merit? While I personally doubt it, in the murky and conspiratorial world of Thai politics, I would not rule out the claim as completely unrealistic. And if there are people out there willing to believe there are ‘fake reds’ and that one group of soldiers willfully killed another on government orders, why dismiss Suthep’s claim of politicians shooting their own as particularly outrageous?

I’m not saying that Saksith should avoid giving a little friendly ribbing to Suthep; the good deputy occasionally deserves it – but shouldn’t we give equal time to all the ‘outrageous and appalling’ stuff that comes out of the opposition’s mouth? I don’t think we’ll find ourselves short of examples any time soon.

Published in The Nation, June 1, 2011

Thai politics may be short on many things: honesty, decency, common sense – but one can safely say that it is definitely not short on irony, especially during election season. From the interesting notion that a hand-picked family “clone” of one of most divisive political figures in Thai history somehow represents a “fresh political start” to straight-faced claims that an open debate between leading candidates is an unnecessary distraction in a modern democratic campaign, Thailand’s elections seem to be specifically designed to keep the eyes in a constant state of roll.

Sometimes, though, the irony gets so overwhelming, that if you’re not careful, you run the risk of getting them permanently stuck in the back of your head.

Take Natthawut Saikua…please. But seriously, take this core red-shirt leader’s recent threat to sue any member of the Democrat party who slurs his good name by referring to him as a “terrorist.” Indeed, that sounds awful, but as coincidence would have it, Natthawut’s actually been charged with terrorism, presumably for minor infractions such as inciting Thai citizens to mass arson if his “democratic” demands are not met. However as the “firebrand” orator has not actually been convicted of any crime, Democrats and others might opt, from now on, to refer to him as an “alleged terrorist,” which should put them legally in the clear.

As irony would also have it, the man who had called on his supporters to set Bangkok ablaze, claiming he will take “full responsibility” for the consequences, has been rewarded for these very responsible actions by first being freed on bail (as terrorism charges apparently aren’t that serious in Thailand), and then getting a top billing on the opposition Phua Thai’s party list.

And shockingly enough (well, not really), Natthawut has admitted that the election was essentially a way for him and other red-shirt leaders to gain parliamentary immunity that will hopefully allow them to avoid any more prison time – which indeed fits into the pattern of assuming “full responsibility” red shirt leaders have been renowned for over the last couple of years.

Also noteworthy is the man who yelled himself hoarse imploring the masses to fight to the death for “true democracy” has decided to not even contest the election as a constituency candidate, which of course runs the risk of actually losing to an opponent – instead choosing the party list route, a safe and guaranteed way to get that coveted and comfortably immune seat in Thailand’s parliament.

So what does one make of a man who talks non-stop about democracy but avoids contesting an election as a popular candidate? Who implores others to fight, resist and even die for democracy, only to use a democratic election in the most cynical way possible – as an opportunity to keep himself out of jail? Who bellows and barks about taking responsibility, then denies it, avoid it, and threatens others who dare to remind him of it?

Of course, the real irony will be delivered at election day – if Phua Thai and the assorted “alleged” terrorists on its party list decisively win the polls. It will mean that the concept of holding public figures accountable for crimes against their own country is meaningless. And if Phua Thai pulls out a victory in Bangkok, it will also mean that certain groups can threaten to burn down the nation’s capital, follow through on that threat – and still win a popular mandate to rule. That would be ironic, indeed – but sometimes in Thailand, irony can become really tiresome.

Published in the Bangkok Post on May 25, 2011; in The Nation, on May 28, 2011

As the one-year anniversary of the army’s crackdown on the red-shirt protest has come and gone, many people remain bitterly divided on just what happened a year ago and what it means for Thailand today. The recently released Human Rights Watch report, “Descent into Chaos’ has shed some light on the events, blaming both the protesters and the army for the violence.

For those sympathetic to the red shirts, the report was unsparing in describing both spontaneous and systematic violence used by protesters and militants allied with them against security forces and civilians. The report confirmed what most people had already believed: that the violence of April 10, which turned the protest from relatively peaceful to bloody was instigated by red shirts, not the army. On the other hand, for those sympathetic to the government and military, the report also made it clear that it held soldiers accountable for many unnecessary deaths.

There should be plenty of soul-searching on both sides. While it is clear that both the government and the military are loathe to openly discuss the way they handled the dispersal of the protest, it is equally clear that the red shirts are in no mood for introspection. During the May 19 commemoration of the crackdown, they, once again stuck to a simple narrative, playing the victim and ignoring the fact that the violence that took so many of their lives was as much instigated by their own side as it was avoidable.

Nevertheless, to the red shirts’ credit, the May 19 commemoration rally was peaceful and incident-free, as was every major red shirt rally since last September. The irony here is had the protest of 2010 been as peaceful and democratic as the all the commemorations that followed, the violent crackdown would never have taken place – nor would the need to repeatedly commemorate it.

Unfortunately, the last year’s violence was a key part of the strategy used by some members of the movement to foment chaos, with the ultimate aim of overthrowing PM Abhisit’s government. The HRW report has painted a picture of protest leaders and other operatives purposely and repeatedly creating conditions of anarchy in order to necessitate an intervention from the security forces, who would initially try to restore order with minimum force, only to be violently attacked and even killed. Security forces would then have no choice but to either respond with force or surrender authority.

Such ruthless tactics were designed to ensure loss of lives, and they are unacceptable for use by any group claiming to be a democratic movement. Red shirts would do themselves and everyone else inThailanda favor by addressing how these tactics were used with some degree of honesty.

Once deadly force was used and casualties ensued, it became easy for red shirts to blame the soldiers not just for the deaths, but the violence itself. But this accusation is patently false: red shirt tactics initiated the violence and claimed its first victims. Most people understand this, and this is why reds have still not been able to gain widespread popular support.

For their next commemorative rally, I suggest the red shirts consider a new tactic – a public apology. An apology for using tactics that led to an unacceptable loss of lives, for allowing armed elements to operate freely among their protest, and for lying about their aims of bringing ‘true democracy’ rather than a street version of a coup d’etat. Only that type of admission, along with an open and honest investigation into the deaths by the government, will begin to bring a real reconciliation to Thailand.

After Osama bin Laden was hunted down and killed by the US armed forces earlier this month, President Obama immediately went on television to explain his government’s actions. He admitted to the killing and justified it as a necessity of war. While some may oppose this method of summary justice, even for international terrorists of bin Laden’s caliber, and experts may disagree on the legality of what took place, the US government felt confident it did the right thing and took full responsibility for its actions.

If only the same could take place in Thailand. On the evening of May 13, 2010, on the eve of a major army operation to secure the perimeter around the red-shirt rally site at Rajprasong, a sniper’s bullet pierced the skull of Khattiya Sawasdipol, a rogue general better known as Seh Daeng, thus ending the life of one of the most violent political figures in recent Thai history. As the news of the assassination spread, the prevailing assumption was that the hit was carried out by the Thai army; with the only real uncertainty being the government’s role. Did it order the action or not? Would PM Abhisit make a televised appearance, Obama-style, and carefully present his case as to why a dangerous domestic terrorist could no longer be left among the living?

If there was a case for the assassination, the Thai people never heard it. The government denied any knowledge about, let alone involvement in, the killing of Seh Daeng and promised an investigation – which has, a year later, has yielded exactly nothing.

Though few can say with certainty who shot Seh Daeng, one can argue that if the killing was indeed carried out on government orders, there was no need to maintain secrecy and silence – the killing could have been justified.

No, Seh Daeng was no bin Laden; he and his disciples did not kill thousands and terrorize millions around the world. But on a smaller scale and within the increasingly violent realm of Thai domestic politics, the rogue general was one of the most malevolent figures around, arguably more deserving of the moniker ‘terrorist’ than anyone else in the red shirt movement at the time.

To some red shirts, he died a heroic death, a martyr to freedom and democracy. But it’s difficult to imagine either heroics or a great devotion to human rights from a man who openly called for mass murder, as he did in 2008 when he declared that “anyone wanting to join the [PAD] rally should reserve a temple for his funeral. Being united, you will be slain in a group.” With sentiments like these, Seh Daeng came across as a homicidal maniac more than anything else.

The general openly bragged about the people he killed, boasted about running a militia allied with the red shirts and predicted grenade attacks with eerie accuracy. But his actions spoke louder than words. Seh Daeng had been implicated in some of the worst violence associated with the red-shirt rally of 2010. The recently released Human Rights Watch Report links him to armed elements in the protest and militant red guards; and some believe him to have been involved in the assassination of Col. Romklao on April 10, though this is disputed. Both the government and the HRW Report suggested that he was involved in the campaign of grenade attacks that killed several people and wounded scores of others before and during the protests, as well as the outrageous raid on the Chulalongkorn hospital.

Seh Daeng was widely known to have had a close relationship with Thaksin, whom he’d visited abroad while the fugitive former PM plotted against his Democrat successors. It is believed that Thaksin essentially ran the red-shirt rally on two tracks: as a peaceful civil-disobedience style sit-in with one set of players, and a shadowy quasi-insurgency, with another. As Thaksin’s key associate, Seh Daeng was suspected of masterminding and enforcing this second ‘track’: the campaign of calculated violence and anarchy on the ground which included mysterious bombings and attacks on the security forces.

Whether he really played a key role in these actions remains unclear, as do most things about the rally, but as the protest morphed into an insurgency, Seh Daeng became viewed as the symbol of its violent resistance – and more crucially, as someone who stood in the way of its resolution. By May, as the government made its peace offering to the red shirt leaders, Seh Daeng continued to refuse to end the protest on any terms other than government’s full surrender (while sabotaging the efforts of less hard-line reds to reach an accommodation). He became both an impediment to peace and an obstacle to a crackdown, as it was feared he would become a rallying point for sustained armed resistance and even guerilla warfare. He had to be stopped.

But how? How do you stop Seh Daeng?

The most obvious answer was to have the good general arrested, perhaps by a special police detachment. But the red-shirt protest exposed a very inconvenient truth: when it came to red shirts, law enforcement in Thailand was a sham. Police did nothing to stop the protest from spiraling out of control, were unable or unwilling to use non-lethal riot-control methods to keep order, and failed dismally at any attempt to arrest those charged with violations of the law. Prior to the crackdown, the numerous arrest warrants issued by the government were worth about as much as the paper they were printed on. The botched police raid on Arisman clearly demonstrated that the police were incapable of apprehending a red-shirt leader of any importance. Many officers preferred the humiliation of being taken hostage by the reds than to challenge them in any way.

With the police force effectively neutralized, could army commandos have been employed against the general instead? Seh Daeng was suspended from the army by then-army chief Anupong in January 2010 after meeting Thaksin in Cambodia. While still serving under Anupong’s command, Seh Daeng publicly insulted the chief and was suspected of being behind a grenade attack on his office. These actions alone should have made Seh Daeng subject to arrest and possible court-martial, before he even set foot at any anti-government rally site. Yet he remained free.

After Seh Daeng became suspected of playing a role in the multiple killings of April 10, the government could no longer afford a laissez-faire approach to his arrest, and elite army units could have been deployed to enforce his arrest warrant.  In that scenario, law enforcement would have reserved the right to use deadly force – including sniper fire – against Seh Daeng, were he to resist arrest. But remarkably, even in the wake of April 10, the rogue general continued to retain both his freedom and army rank (!) while effectively waging war on both the government and the army he swore to serve. It seems no one had the will or the means to take this man into custody.

Still, the government had one more card it could play. Obama’s action against bin Laden rested on the premise that bin Laden was a leader of a terrorist movement that the US was at war with. The Thai government did not need to go as far as declare war on Seh Daeng or the red shirts; Bangkok and other provinces were already under a State of Emergency (SOE). As the red shirts settled in at Rajprasong, there was no way for the authorities to move in on Seh Daeng, or the other red-shirt leaders, without encountering violent resistance. Could a case not have been made that during the SOE and in order to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, an employment of a sniper from a safe distance against a dangerous militia leader was fully justified?

The timing of the killing is crucial in considering this question. Seh Daeng was killed on the day the army finally made a move to ‘seal’ the rally site, a prelude to retaking the site, which took place 6 days later. Removing Seh Daeng from the rally meant removing a major obstacle to the resolution of the Rajprasong stalemate, with the idea that fewer lives will be lost and less damage inflicted once a key leader of the resistance is gone.

True, this argument is weakened by the fact that during the next 5 days more people were killed than at any other time of the protest. But arguably, this is because the army failed to secure the perimeter around the protest site quickly and decisively, allowing chaos to spill over into surrounding areas, and not because eliminating Seh Daeng was inconsequential. The final advance on Rajprasong on May 19 resulted in a lower number of casualties than expected; were Seh Daeng still around to take command of the remaining militants, that number could have been much higher.

But did ‘removing’ Seh Daeng have to mean killing him?

In theory, no, but in reality, the question cannot be answered without knowing exactly who was behind the killing. With arrest apparently dismissed as too risky and the government under intense pressure to end the protest, assassination simply became the quickest and easiest way to remove Seh Daeng from the picture. Besides, the elements within the army suspected of being involved in the killing were itching to avenge the death of Col. Romklao, so killing Seh Daeng became the perfect opportunity to settle scores while speeding up an end to a violent protest.

It can be argued that Seh Daeng’s killing, whatever its circumstances, was, on balance, a good thing. His demise deprived armed groups of a key figure to rally around, decreased the agony of the army crackdown at Rajprasong and prevented a charismatic militant from becoming an underground resistance leader, plotting future attacks and directing a shadowy campaign of violence.

Still, it is extremely unfortunate for Thai politics that this assassination took place in the political shadows, without legal basis and by no one interested in publicly assuming responsibility. What further weakens the moral case for his assassination is the fact that the option to arrest him was never exercised. A nation where the authorities are either incapable or unwilling to arrest rogue but influential VIPs like Seh Daeng – only allow them to be dispatched, at the eleventh hour, with a sniper’s bullet – cannot really function as a civilized society.

By distancing themselves from the killing while being strongly suspected of it, both the government and the army lost whatever moral high ground they could have held in this case. The killing may well have been justified, and if the government knew about it or was involved with it in any way, it should have made its case to the Thai people and assumed full responsibility. If Seh Daeng deserved to die, Thai people deserved to hear all the reasons why.

Published in the Bangkok Post on April 21, 2011; The Nation, on April 22, 2011

A year has passed since several RPGs exploded at Silom Road on the evening of April 22, killing one innocent woman and wounding 90 others. The attack was the first direct assault by armed elements associated with the red shirt movement on the civilian population of Bangkok. The crowd had been gathering at the spot peacefully for several days and in growing numbers, venting pent-up frustration at the red shirts and their ongoing campaign of violence and intimidation.

But more stunning than the attack itself was the fact that it was perpetrated on unarmed civilians with a clear intent to silence them. The protesters in Silom had no armed elements among them, no guards, no rogue generals in charge of their security, no ‘men in black,’ no spies in various state organs, no bankrolling from powerful fugitive billionaires, no daily ‘stipends’. They had only their voices – and they were exercising their right to use those voices, a right acknowledged by every modern society as universal. While ideologically blinkered apologists enjoy referring to the battles between red shirts and security forces on April 10 and May 19 as ‘massacres’, April 22 was closer to the real thing – a wanton, unprovoked attack on a genuinely peaceful gathering of civilians.

A suspect apprehended last year confessed to taking part in the April 22 attack, while admitting to being affiliated with the red shirt movement. Despite this, there’s been no sign of remorse from anyone among the red shirts for this wretched crime, no hint of any recognition of responsibility. This fits the general pattern of behavior among many in that movement: attack, deny everything, claim victimhood.

Because red shirt protesters didn’t die on that night, no one will be marking this anniversary by staging rallies filled with theatrics and (self-) righteous calls for ‘justice.’ No one will be making an issue of it. People have moved on. The lack of hypocrisy and manufactured drama surrounding this event is a relief; but certain things should not be forgotten. April 22 was a reminder of just how much respect the red shirts have for others’ freedom of speech and assembly – and a warning to those who might disagree with the red shirts’ aggressive methods a little too loudly.

The lack of empathy from average red shirt supporters for the Silom demonstrators shows their beliefs in freedom and democracy do not apply to those who disagree with them; the refusal to assume some culpability for the crime by the movement’s leaders betrays their willful ignorance and indifference to human suffering. April 22 should be a reminder to the Thai people that demagogues who claim to speak for the masses believe that rights and freedoms belong only to them and their supporters; those who dare to open their mouths in dissent will not to be tolerated. It is an important lesson for those who are still naïve enough to think that the red shirts can offer Thailand anything resembling a vision of progress and democracy.