The consensus that held Thailand together is crumbling. Recent events will cement the bitter divides and lead to more bloodshed. My first experience of Bangkok was in 1995. I felt as if I had stepped on to the set of Blade Runner; a scattered and disjointed fusion of skyscrapers and tangled neon-soaked streets bustling with life. It left me electrified and entranced. Six years later, I made this city my home. Friends were envious. I was excited. No one was warning me against it. “Bangkok is much safer than London” has been my recurrent refrain whenever asked about living in this sprawling capital. However, while I may have been mugged in my hometown of London, I have never seen anyone shot there by a sniper. At least 70 people have been killed and well over a thousand injured in recent political violence in Bangkok. Areas of the city were turned into a war zone as troops battled with protesters for more than five days before finally – and brutally – crushing the redshirt “resistance”. To suggest that this chaos and destruction came as a surprise would be disingenuous. I have had serious misgivings about the state of affairs in Thailand for several years, but have, like many others, pushed them to one side lest they interfere with my enjoyment of the weather, lifestyle and, of course, the food that has kept me so content in this country for nearly a decade. I was in a bar with three friends earlier this month. A little drunk and excitable, two of the friends, a journalist and a photographer, sought to convince the third, who works for a large US-based multinational, that Bangkok was a city on the brink of chaos. “Why are you laughing? This country is going to hell. Mark my words, there will be deaths on these streets that you cannot imagine,” the journalist said to the skeptical office worker. Perhaps her laughter was born from nervousness. I’m not sure, but despite living here for eight years, she did not seem to recognise the storm clouds. Four days later at least four people had been shot dead on a street one minute’s walk from that bar, and the office worker had evacuated her apartment to go and live in another part of the city. But it wasn’t just the latest tensions – two months of protests, 25 deaths and 800 injuries on 10 April and the increased military presence on the streets – that portended darker days. Ignited by a military coup and against the backdrop of rising anxiety over the deteriorating health of the king and the continued meddling of a divisive, ousted prime minister from self-imposed exile overseas, protest movements have been growing, with opposing groups increasingly pushing their agendas on the streets rather than in parliament. Years of tensions have uncovered stark social and political fissures. As I watched television last Tuesday morning, a military commander, in a pooled presentation on all free-to-air stations, showed images from YouTube and other public websites of “terrorists” among the redshirts. While there are armed elements among the protesters, almost all those shot so far have been unarmed. As the urban battles continued, the government and military pushed their propaganda on television each day – these are “terrorists”, we must defend ourselves and the king and country. A significant number of Thais agree. This makes me uneasy. The rhetoric is nothing new. The delivery is nothing new. I can’t help but identify these generals with a bygone era. But many in Thailand, it seems, do not want a new future; they are emotionally devoted to their past and fearful of what may come if the redshirts win. In May 1992, when dozens of protesters were shot dead by soldiers, the military also claimed it was acting in self-defense. Today there is no grilling from the local media. Many continued to support the crackdown, despite the rising death toll. International media, such as CNN, have been accused of pro-redshirt bias. Vile and hateful messages calling for the deaths of the protesters were unashamedly plastered on Facebook and other social sites. At a television awards ceremony on the evening of 16 May, as the fighting continued on the streets outside, an actor received his statuette and, as stars have done in the past, took the opportunity to make his political feelings known. “If you hate father, if you don’t love father any more, then you should get out of here!” he said defiantly, in reference to King Bhumibol Adulyadej, who Thais often refer to as “father”, and the alleged anti-monarchy sentiments of some redshirts. “Because this is father’s home! Because this is father’s land!” The well-dressed audience of the glitterati and light-skinned actors and actresses gave a standing ovation, punched the air in defiance; some wept. Such scenes of obsequious devotion and intense emotion are common when it comes to the monarchy. Due to societal and legal pressures, there is no room for discussion of the monarchy – a culture of self-imposed censorship increasingly ingrained over the 63 years of King Bhumibol’ s reign, permeating all areas of social and political interaction and defining, in many cases, what it means to be “Thai”. Everyone has an opinion on what the real issue behind this enduring crisis is: class struggle against uncaring elite; a scorned megalomaniac former prime minister fighting to recover his ill-gotten gains and power; a battle to fend off a republican revolution. But what no one seems to have is a clear answer to how this all will end. I don’t have any answers either. As I sit here in my apartment, awaiting another night of curfew, watching the sun set on a city still smoldering from a week of tragedies, I can’t help but think that recent events will only further cement the country’s already bitter divides and lead to more bloodshed. The consensus that held Thailand together and saw decades of economic advance is crumbling. Thailand must build a new future under a new image, but I fear this divided nation is not yet ready to face that painful truth. By Ismail Wolff
23 May 2010 |