Selective Enforcement of Emergency Decree

Hundreds of people gathered in Bangkok a couple days ago, to protest (again) Cambodia’s claim to an ancient temple along the border. Normally such a protest isn’t big news, as the issue flares up every few years. Thai politicians tend to stoke it when they hope to divert the public’s attention away from something more immediate or embarrassing.

But this time an emergency decree was supposedly in force that prevents the assembly of more than five people. Not only that, this protest was led by a fellow who has long been associated with the same group that shut down the airport with impunity during a chaotic week at the end of 2008. (Nobody has yet been prosecuted for that upper-class sit-in, while several people from lower spheres who were involved with this year’s downtown protests have not only been arrested but had their assets frozen.)

Several international human rights groups criticized the government for extending the state of emergency earlier this month. Then last Sunday, a bomb at a bus stop in central Bangkok killed one man and injured several others, around the same time that the government-backed winner of a close parliamentary by-election was announced, leading the prime minister to comment that the extension had been the right decision.

To be consistent in applying the “rule of law” (a concept politicians trot out when it suits), the government would have had to break up Tuesday’s temple dispute gathering. However, in this case the protesters’ cause has wide appeal, as often happens when issues get associated with patriotism. The protest leader acknowledged flouting the decree, but said he was willing to risk the consequences for the sake of “safeguarding Thai sovereignty.”

Pee Rahat

Here’s a Thai tradition I hadn’t known about before it was brought to my attention this week. College freshmen routinely receive the name of a sophomore who will shepherd them through the first year of school. The older one (“pee”) gives without expectation of return, providing books, treats, advice, rides home. Assignments are random—based on the students’ ID number, or code (“rahat”)—but not voluntary. Everyone gets a pee rahat who is studying the same thing they are. This intradepartmental social service, for some, is the first experience of helping or being helped by a non-family member.

Of course the system’s success varies. Some people I asked about it told me that they couldn’t remember the name of their pee rahat, and admitted that when it was their turn they didn’t take it very seriously. Yet one woman I spoke to remembered the connection to her freshman as “much better than a boyfriend.” She is still in touch with him and his whole family, and feels more like his older sister than like a mentor.

At the core of the tradition is the patron-client relationship that plays out so often in Thai workplaces. People never forget their place in the hierarchy.

Half a Decade

The verdict on Thailand, five years after arriving here: it’s still working for us. Whether or not it’s working for the average Thai person is another question.

Jip and I continue to be grateful for the many ways both of our lives have improved since we moved from Seattle. We neither expected nor earned that improvement, yet it’s undeniable. We’re healthier, richer, and much sunnier than we would have been had we stayed in the States.

OK, it’s true this place has had its ups and downs in the past year. My return to Bangkok from Spain last month didn’t generate the same little jolt of glad-to-be-home excitement that I’ve felt on most previous returns to Thailand. (Then again, any place would have seemed a little discouraging by contrast with the two weeks I had just spent with some of my favorite people anywhere.)

I'm over that little letdown now. Rainy season in the land of smiles is floating my boat. It’s a great time for running and reflection. Not to mention, Jip is in great form.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could say the same thing about the Thai political discourse? Alas, progress along the reconciliation roadmap is all but invisible. The country’s institutions just don’t seem up to the task of talking.

Maybe those conversations are going on beneath the surface. To the casual observer, though, there’s been virtually no change to the established order here, in spite of the damage done to Thailand’s reputation and economy by the airport occupations and street confrontations. Elites (and that group includes Jip and me, by the way) still follow a different set of rules from everybody else.

Or maybe, in this part of the world, change doesn’t happen through talk. Lots of people here feel it’s best if a few “phuu yai” make the decisions. Democracy, despite its many trappings throughout the region, is often seen as defective at best, pointless at worst.

Having said that, restlessness is definitely in the air. Although right now appears to be an intermission in the ongoing drama of Thai politics, the times they are a-changin’. The 21st century has brought information and influence to people from all walks of life in Thailand. The country’s mood is temperamental, and unlikely to get less so any time soon.

Composite Sketch

A copy of The Economist magazine’s year-end special issue came my way this week. Though it was already several months old, “The World in 2010” seemed worth skimming. An article that asked “Will 2010 Be a Year of Social Unrest?” caught my eye, and I thought of Thailand’s recent troubles.

Falling incomes, rising unemployment, and weakened middle classes led off the story—not much new there. Then the piece suggested that a given country’s “vulnerability to unrest depends on a host of factors.” My eyes widened as I scanned the list: degree of income inequality, state of governance, levels of social provision, ethnic tensions, public trust in institutions, history of unrest, and the type of political system (“intermediate regimes that are neither consolidated democracies nor autocracies seem the most vulnerable”). Lots of countries fit lots of those descriptions, but the article described Thailand particularly well.

Last week the government chose to extend the state of emergency in most of the provinces where it had first been declared in April. Western reaction to that decision so far has been critical, suggesting that the continuing arrests of red-shirt leaders and closing of opposition-friendly media outlets can’t help but lead to more violence. The Thai ruling class probably fears that anything hinting at compromise with the demonstrators is an invitation for the military to stage yet another coup.

Even though things are calm at the moment, and signs promoting Thai unity (“Together We Can”) have sprouted up everywhere since mid-May, 2010 will likely be a long year.

The Cup in Southeast Asia

Fresh from watching Germany take apart Argentina, let’s review Thailand’s reaction to the World Cup so far.

Wound up? Not much, unless you consider most of the country staying awake until 4am, when the marquee matches finish around here, to be a sign of excitement. Caught up? I’d have to say yes, given how many taxi drivers have been able to recall for me the scores from group stage matches that concluded more than two weeks ago (“Greece-Nigeria? That ended 2-1, if I’m not wrong.”) Vocal? Well, having lived in the same apartment for more than three years, we’ve hardly ever heard a sound from our neighbors… until the past few early mornings.

In a word, the Cup is consuming. Walking in to any of the thousands of 7-Eleven stores here, customers are greeted by clerks sporting t-shirts of the favored teams. Flags of the surviving countries hang from the ceilings. Strangers ask each other who they’re cheering for.

Next door in Burma things are apparently even more energized. According to the Irrawaddy magazine, officials there have magically become able to supply the capital with enough electricity to ensure that all of the games are broadcast live and without interruption. Normally Burmese citizens can count on only a few hours of power per day, particularly during the dry season, when hydro plants run at less than full capacity. Finally, the peoples’ interests overlap the government’s!

Language Re-Learning in Europe

Now and then in Thailand someone asks if I can speak French. I answer, “Oui,” and then manage one or two reasonably understandable sentences before Thai starts pouring out. It’s as if the lobe of the brain where my college French lives has been overwritten by the more recent efforts to learn a new language.

Thai is now the default second. Kick-starting the former tongues requires lots of concentration. These past two weeks, luxuriating in France and Spain with three separate batches of close pals, I was never sure what was going to flow from my mouth. (photo: John Beach)

It was surprising how quickly the old vocabulary flooded back. Most everything I read on signs in France made sense to me, and when shopkeepers addressed me I always knew what they were talking about. Whether or not I could reply quickly was another story, but with each passing hour I got faster—to the point where I sometimes asked myself how I would have said the same thing in Thai.

Of course I never got beyond a paragraph or two before I started giggling. French seemed like a play language, something designed for Barbie dolls or tea parties. I knew I wouldn’t need to use it for long, so I felt it was fair to have fun with it. Unlike in Thailand, where everyone can tell at a glance that Thai is not my native tongue, in France I was assumed to be fluent until I opened my mouth. The people I spoke to there had only a second or two to adjust themselves to someone mangling their language. I let them know right away that they were dealing with a tourist by overdoing the accent.

Non, je ne regrette rien. Vive le français! Vive la crème brûlée! Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Visit to the Rest Room Between Flights in Turkey En Route Europe for a Fun Reunion with Old Friends

It looked from the outside like a men’s room. A sign outside the door read “MEN.” But the security guard at Istanbul Airport questioned me suspiciously as I moved toward the entrance.

Soon I knew why. Just inside the door, piles of shoes were scattered about. To the left was a large open shower stall, with faucets placed around knee height. The thing I really needed, a urinal, was nowhere to be found.

Then I looked to the right and saw the prayer rugs. Men were resting all around the edges of the large room. It was not a restroom. I backed out, past the smirking security guard, to continue my search.

Biking in Bangkok

Especially since the recent political troubles have been making headlines internationally, people have written to ask if I’m in any danger when I go out and about in Bangkok. Short answer: no. Personal safety ranks higher here than in most American cities. A longer answer: the biggest Bangkok danger isn’t protests. It’s the unpredictable behavior of motorcycle drivers.

They snake around stopped cars and buses without really looking to see whether the lane they’re entering is really open. They create their own lane where none existed before, or use sidewalks as shortcuts. Luckily I’ve never had a really close encounter, but at least three of Jip’s caregivers have been hit while walking.

Recently a new category of road and sidewalk danger came to my attention. I had set out on a borrowed bicycle to ride though the neighborhoods surrounding the ministry where I work. The plan seemed worth the risk—I expected to stick to mostly quiet streets. My aim was to find a place we might move to that would offer most of the advantages of our current apartment, together with a shorter commute and a cheaper price tag.

The flaw in the excursion was my assumption that bicycles should follow certain traffic rules. For instance, it seemed to me pretty basic that I not ride facing oncoming buses. Yet many bicyclists I encountered were choosing to do just that. For some reason I had never noticed this behavior as a bus passenger. Now, as a fellow rider, it seemed to be happening every few minutes.

All of us might have managed to share the road if Bangkok had such a thing as a dedicated bicycle lane (you’re thinking, “he’s dreaming what?”). Without that luxury of extra room along the shoulder, somebody had to give way. It was always me, especially because many of the riders coming at me turned out to be a rider and a passenger, making them doubly wobbly.

Another unwinnable faceoff: pedal-driven broom sellers. These folks make their living by riding into small lanes and back streets, hawking large objects that surround them as they ride. I assume accidents must happen, considering how much of their vision is blocked by their wares (see the pic at right). Several of these people were coming my way as I rode around town, and I always found a way to let them pass. I that doubt any of them ever saw me.

At one stage I looked over my shoulder and saw rain clouds gathering. By this time I had already decided to return to where the bicycle really lived. The looming downpour made speed even more critical. The wind picked up. Little bits of dirt and straw that had been sitting quietly, minding their own business, suddenly began gyrating. They gave no warning. The unexpected dust devils became even bigger hazards than the unexpected head-on bicycle traffic. It was like riding into a sandstorm. I closed my eyes, praying that a broom seller didn’t appear when I opened them again.

Miraculously, I made it to the bicycle’s true home unscathed, minutes before the rain broke. My dreams of bicycle commuting, however, had suffered a severe setback.

Brits vs. Yanks

Even though this time the World Cup isn’t being played on the same continent as Thailand, and even though the games begin pretty late for people who work a regular day, everyone still seems to be fully informed on the morning after. I haven’t been hard core enough to stay up for the games that finish here shortly before the sun comes up.

With one exception. An invitation to join the lads from the old mans’ soccer league was too good to pass up. The match was of course the U.S. vs. England. The place was the Londoner Pub. At our table were four Yanks, two Thais, and a Turk who had gone to college in Louisiana. We were surrounded by about fifteen big screens and five hundred Englishmen. The owner’s son stopped by our table to offer his condolences. He also guaranteed us a protective escort in case the unthinkable happened, and the English side lost. At least that’s what I think he said. His voice got lost amidst the drinking songs, which became progressively louder as kickoff approached.

Technically Bangkok pubs aren’t supposed to serve alcohol after 2am. For this occasion the rules were skirted by requiring that everyone buy drink coupons before 12:30, followed by an announcement at 1am that the pub was officially closed. Nobody left the premises, of course. The event had simply become a “private party” at that point, no longer admitting new “guests.” I gather that at various watering holes around the city, beer after 2am is poured from tea kettles into teacups as another way around the regulations.

Probably you already know about the English captain’s nifty goal in the first five minutes of the match (pandemonium at the Londoner Pub) and the English goalkeeper’s “Hand of Clod” howler that evened the score (shocked silence, followed by a teenybopper-style scream from an excited American fan who was taking a big risk). From that point on, all of us at our table pulled our heads a little lower between our shoulder blades and sent up prayers (answered, thank god) that Wayne Rooney wouldn’t upset the delicate sense of cease-fire that had descended upon the room.

“Dying for a tie” described both nationalities, though each group meant something different by the phrase. The Brits appeared to have collectively lost years off the end of their lives. Meanwhile Yanks were thinking that the final whistle couldn’t come soon enough.

In the end we all made it out of the pub alive.

Summer School

For a while it seemed that everybody here was either really agitated or really depressed about Thailand’s troubles. Around that time, the middle of last month, when things were at their most explosive and the international press was updating standoff stories every few hours, the U.S. Embassy offered to evacuate employees’ family members.

Nobody I know was nervous enough about the situation to accept the offer, which expired today. I did hear a rumor that some international school kids, at risk of failing their finals, had successfully begged their parents to send them away. The program, known in official State Dept.-ese as “Authorized Departure,” demands that the evacuees return immediately after the offer expires. Pity the students who thought they were off the hook. Sounds like their plans for the rest of the month now include summer school.

Generally speaking things are again calm, at least on the surface. A curfew that lasted about ten days, and got progressively shorter as time went on, has now ended (though a state of emergency is still in force). The newspapers are now dominated by stories about politicians talking to one another rather than communicating through the press or via speeches.

Of course it’s just a lull in the action. No doubt a nasty plot is being hatched somewhere out of sight, and cells of people with narrow agendas are regrouping, and the military is scripting its reactions for what to do when the elections don’t turn out right.

Let us pray that all of the leaders associated with the recent conflicts also spend some time in summer school. The craziness of the past few months turns out not to be unique in Thai history. Dead ends, snipers, even arson on a grand scale have all appeared before in the long-running drama soap opera that is politics here.

Thus far I’m not convinced that the lessons of the earlier episodes have been absorbed. Last week Thaksin was formally accused of supporting terrorism, a decision that seems to play right into the hands of his well-paid spin-doctor squad. Coming up are debates about the current flawed constitution, and about lifting the ban on participating in politics for more than 100 members of dissolved parties. Compromise on those controversies will be much tougher now than they might have been before recent events, but looking back at the many examples in Thai history of following the middle way may help move things forward this time.

On a positive note, more than 10,000 volunteers, most of them young, turned out last weekend for a city-sponsored clean-up of the protest sites. Perhaps if the people lead, the leaders will follow?

Buoyant

Thailand’s mood these days may be more downcast than usual, but nobody seems to have told Jip. Her brand of drunk-on-life cheerfulness is delightful. It doesn’t take much to start her chuckling, a little bit like that film character played by Dudley Moore who used to say, “Sometimes I just think funny things.”

Consider this anecdote from last night. As a former nurse, Jip insists that her caregivers wash their hands often. She even loudly counts to ten as they’re scrubbing. That length of time (or about long enough to sing Happy Birthday twice) is thought to be effective at decreasing viruses.

Jip’s regular caregivers hear her count several times a day, and have probably tuned it out. During my turn on Sunday nights, I still listen for her to reach the end, because I know she’ll ask me to do it again if I finish too early. Last night, thinking of my birthday the day before, she switched from counting to singing. She only got through the song once, stopped by her own ripples of laughter.

Words on the Street

I’ve been asking Thai friends if they've heard any good jokes about the situation here. Nobody has, and nobody even thinks the question is funny. Everyone seems discouraged about the non-outcome of the protests and the government’s disappointing non-response to the grievances.

Most of these people call Bangkok home. Their feelings range from “freaked out” to “violated.” It’s a tender time. Nobody says they are optimistic about the current leaders’ ability to heal the country’s wounds. I’m not as tapped in to what people are saying in the provinces, but I can guess the mindset there is even more distrustful.

Even if this government were to last until the end of next year, when by law new elections must be called, it certainly has an uphill climb. There will be legal clashes, PR games, lots of money spent, and probably even more violence. Mixed all that together and you get a potent cocktail.

That said, it’s still hard for me to imagine the country disintegrating into “civil war,” a term that all of the various parties in the current conflicts have bandied about over recent weeks. I interpret the use of that phrase as mostly posturing (by the side that doesn’t have any big weapons), and justifying repressive measures (by the side that does).

Day After

Usually international news accounts make things look worse than they really are. Today the reports I read about last night’s many arsons don’t seem strong enough. The fires were so widespread, so efficient, and so simultaneous that it’s hard to believe they were the work of random mob members acting alone.

When the smoke finally cleared today, I couldn’t see any sign that the political dialogue had advanced from where things stood before the current round of protests began.

The public mood is a mixture of denial, depression, and disbelief. Over and over I hear, referring to the self-destructive forms that mass protest has taken here during the past couple of years, “this isn’t Thailand.” Perhaps the country has weathered worse identity crises in the past, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch this time.

Jip’s sensitive nose is confused by all the new smells in the air.

Devastating Day for Thailand

Bangkok is on fire. Outside, smoke from a few miles away hides the downtown high-rises. Inside, the smell of burning plastic has started to cling to our clothes.

Another way of measuring how nerve-wracking today was: the U.S. Embassy sends text messages to suggest avoiding certain areas. Since last Thursday I've received two or three per day. Today I got ten. The number of texts each day for the previous week:

May 13 – 2
May 14 – 3
May 15 – 2
May 16 – 0
May 17 – 3
May 18 – 2
May 19 – 10

Jip and I are safe.