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Life for a Thai in exile: Jaran Ditapichai

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Since the coup on 22 May 2014, about a hundred pro-democracy activists have fled the country. Most were involved in the red-shirt movement. Most decided to flee after they were summoned by the junta. Most also face lèse majesté charges. Seeing the military court handing down severe verdicts in lèse majesté cases with little likelihood of getting bail and no appeals allowed, their chance of walking free in the Kingdom of Thailand is slim and it is no wonder that leaving the country is a better option. But abandoning life, jobs, education, property, and loved ones in Thailand and starting all over in a new country is very difficult. 
 
The exiles went to a few destinations in Southeast Asia, Europe, New Zealand and the USA. France is one. In the second of a series, Prachatai’s Thaweeporn Kummetha tells the story of Jaran Ditapichai, a veteran political activist and leftist, who said this is going to be his final exile. Thaweeporn visited Jaran in a city in France he asked not to be revealed and spent some time with him in April along with two other Thai exiles -- Aum Neko, a provocative transgender activist (read the story on Aum), and Somsak Jeamteerasakul, former Thammasat University historian and fierce critic of the lèse majesté law. The following article is written from Thaweeporn’s perspective and you can watch the video interview below. 
 
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“Comrade Chai” is what Jaran Ditapichai was called during his time in northern Thailand in the late 1970s and early 1980s and he remains proud of this identity. 
 
Jaran’s life is full of (red) colour. The 68-year-old activist has been arrested and sent to prison three times for political activism. Following his arrest after the massacre at Thammasat University on 6 October 1976, he escaped from the cells and fled to the northern forests of Nan, where he headed Unit 61 of the Communist Party of Thailand (CPT) and befriended many activists, many of whom have become pro-establishment, yellow-shirt leaders. 
 
After the decline of communism in Southeast Asia and after the Thai government granted an amnesty for CPT activists, Jaran left the comrade’s life and returned to Bangkok in 1983. He lived in the forest with the CPT for seven years. 
 
In Bangkok, he worked for a newspaper for a while before leaving for Paris and training on social movements. After the training ended, he received a scholarship to continue to stay in Paris for postgraduate study. He received his master degree in history from Paris 7 and DEA (first year of PhD) from the Sorbonne. During his study, he worked part-time looking after the elderly and cleaning to support his family who were also living with him in Paris. 
 
If most educated Thais like to speak Thai mixed with English, the native of southern province of Pattalung, who was educated in France, likes to speak Thai mixed with French.
 
After five years in France, Jaran returned to Bangkok and taught at Rangsit University and later appointed an assistant professor. In 1998, Jaran was arrested for the second time when he and 17 other activists bravely distributed leaflets in Yangon to commemorate the 888 student uprising. He was convicted and deported back to Thailand. He also joined the people’s movement against the military dictatorship in 1992. 
 
After lecturing at Rangsit University for ten years, Jaran resigned and became a commissioner of the first National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) in 2000.  
 
 
Jaran Ditapichai (file photo)
 
 
Jaran’s latest round of activism began in 2006 when former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was overthrown by the coup. Jaran was among the first who spoke up against the coup and joined other politicians and pro-democracy activists, such as Veera Musikapong, Jatuporn Prompan, Nattawut Saikua and Weng Tojirakarn, in forming the Democratic Alliance Against Dictatorship (DAAD), before it changed into the United Front of Democracy against Dictatorship (UDD), the leading faction of the red shirts.  
 
“Activism is in my blood,” said Jaran. He was arrested for the third time after he allegedly led red-shirt protesters to attack the Bangkok residence of Privy Council President Gen Prem Tinsulanonda in 2007. 
 
Throughout his activist life, Jaran was no charismatic leader. He does not have fan clubs like Jatuporn and Nattawut nor a prominent leadership role. Jaran is rather persistent and compromising. He has never publicly criticized the CPT or the red shirts or Thaksin. When I asked him to criticize Thaksin and Pheu Thai Party, his answer is we should not have too high expectations of them; they have done their best and we should understand their position.
 
 
Jaran Ditapichai speaks on the stage of the DAAD during the military dictatorship in 2006-2007. The red color had not been adopted by the movement. Photo curtesy of Kritsana Chairat's blog
 
 
Jaran is indeed a ‘professional’ activist who overlooks problems and differences for the long-term aim, namely the true revolution of Thai society. 
 
After the coup on 22 May 2014, the junta’s National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO) issued an order for Jaran to report on 23 May. The police issued an arrest warrant against him on 16 June for not reporting to the military. The police also issued an arrest warrant for Jaran on 26 August on a charge of lèse majesté. His crime? Being the chief organizer of the 40th anniversary celebrations of the 14 October 1973 student uprising, where ‘The Wolf Bride’ was performed in October 2013 at Thammasat University, Bangkok. Two theatre activists were sentenced to two years and a half for their involvement in the alleged lèse majesté play.
 
Jaran quietly crossed the Thai border to a neighbouring country on 27 May before leaving for France in around August. Jaran revealed that he has long been prepared for this exile. After the 2006 coup, Jaran foresaw that the democratic forces would someday be crushed again. He applied for visas for several countries and renewed them over and over so that he could easily flee Thailand.
 
In France, he spent a few months preparing documents, going for interviews and so on, in an application for refugee status, the second Thai after Pridi Banomyong. He claimed to have been granted this in December 2014, which entitles him to social welfare and housing. 
 
 
Jaran Ditapichai posts photos of lèse majesté prisoners in Thailand at the Republic monument, Place de la République, Paris, on 22 May 2015, to comemorate the first anniversary of coup d'etat. Photo by Din Buadaeng
 
 
Jaran has quickly embraced a new life in France. Apart from spending time editing the new edition of his book on the French Revolution, he found a new role as coordinator of Free Thais for Human Rights and Democracy (FTHD), an anti-junta group in exile, and the coordinator of red-shirt supporters and pro-democracy activists in Europe. In France, Jaran regularly organizes meetings and dinners to unite the red shirts, most of whom are owners of Thai restaurants and shops who do not hesitate to host dinners when Jaran asks. Whenever anyone comes to France to visit the exiles, Jaran would also put the guests in contact with red shirts who are willing to host them for free. The Thai red shirts, most of which are Prachatai readers and from Isan, hosted dinners to welcome me during my stay in France. I ended up having som tam everyday and for the first time tried the red ants’ eggs, a northeastern Thai specialty, in France. 
 
Jaran says his life now is in the same mode as when he fought with the Communist Party. The methods however are different. Instead of using a gun and living an uncomfortable life in the forest, he lives in a city, and uses email, Skype and Facebook in communicating with the world about the problems Thailand is facing. 
 
 
Jaran Ditapichai (third from left) joins the gathering to comemorate rht first anniversary of military coup at  Place de la République, Paris, on 22 May 2015. Photo by Din Buadaeng.
 
 
His daily work is sending email updates to and meeting European governments and international human rights organizations on the political and human rights situation in Thailand, and lobbying them on Thai issues. He also coordinates with the red shirts in Europe and occasionally organizes protests and demonstrations on Thailand. Like Aum, Jaran regularly joins demonstrations in Paris, such as the May Day celebration. The latest gathering he organized was on 22 May 2015. Jaran and about 10 other Thais and French people gathered against the Thai military dictatorship at the Place de la République in Paris.  
 
“I feel a bit disappointed with myself on my work outside Thailand,” said the veteran activist. Jaran complained that it is difficult to get the attention of foreign countries and have them take action since the situation is not very serious compared to other countries. Moreover, unlike during the cold war when countries supported political movements in another country because of their political ideology, Jaran said, each country nowadays is more concerned about its trade and military interests. However, his job is to keep the international community informed so that the situation in Thailand will not be forgotten. 
 
Asked how the Thai political conflict will end, Jaran said this is going to be the “final fight” of his life because his life is coming to an end. It however will not be the final round of the fight for Thai democracy as the fight will continue. 
 
 
Jaran Ditapichai explains Thailand's political situation to French students who comes to observe the gathering at Place de la République, Paris, on 22 May 2015. Photo by Din Buadaeng.
 
 
“In the Internationale, it says “C'est la lutte finale” (This is the final struggle). It is not true and never has been true. There is only the continuous struggle to improve what we have.”
 
Jaran believes the 2014 coup took place to suppress the growing criticism against the monarchy -- the so-called “anti-monarchy trend” -- because if the trend continues, the transition to the next reign may not be smooth. He expects that the junta will stay in power until the succession and after making sure that Thaksin and his cronies will never win an election again.  
 
For Thailand to achieve de facto democracy, Jaran said, a revolution is the answer.  
 
Since he faces a lèse majesté charge, Jaran does not hope of returning home, and says he can live anywhere. “There’s only one thing I miss very much in Thailand and that is my wife.” 
 
 
Jaran Ditapichai (second left) and Aum Neko (right) joined the May Day demonstration in Paris on 1 May 2015. Jaran’s placard reads “Save the Thai workers from military dictatorship.” Aum’s placard (in French) reads “Free Somyos (Prueksakasemsuk) and lèse majesté prisoners. 
 
 
On my last night in France, Jaran took me to a leftist bar and told me about his leftist life in the forest like an elder talks about his past to children. 
 
I asked why he looks so happy being an exile. Jaran answered that it is because his life has been dedicated to the revolution. “The pleasure of a fighter is to fight and to do things for others. Our happiness is not from material consumption. Even though our fight is defeated, we’re still happy. But we’ll be even happier, if we win”.
 
Unsurprisingly, the happiest moment of his life, Jaran said, was when he fought with the CPT in the forest.
 
In order not to be discouraged during a long struggle, Jaran said “First you have to understand the nature of the struggle. In any struggle, we can win and lose. Unfortunately, we constantly lose. Secondly, we have to concentrate and dedicate ourselves to the struggle. When I lived in the forest, the younger comrades liked to ask ‘Why does Comrade Chai look happy, and not distressed or concerned or homesick?’ I told them I am committed to the revolutionary ideology. Also, do not count the days.”   
 
 
Turn on English subtitle at bottom right corner of the video

Testimony from wife of lèse majesté prisoner serving longest Article 112 sentence in history

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Tiensutham S. , aka Yai Daengdueat, 58 years old, graduated from a top-tier Thai university with a degree in chemical engineering and most recently worked as a consultant to a number of large companies and construction projects. Family members report that he earned several hundred thousand baht a month before starting his own business and struggling to succeed.

 
Tiensutham was arrested at home on 18 December 2014 by dozens of plain-clothes military and police and taken with his wife to a military base for questioning. His wife was released, but Tiensutham was held and an arrest warrant approved by the military court on 22 December. After further questioning he was jailed on the 23rd.
 
Military prosecutors charged him with five counts of defaming the monarchy based on Facebook posts from July through November of 2014. He confessed guilt and on 31 March 2015 was sentenced to 50 years prison, reduced to 25 due to the confession. Because of the length of the sentence, Tiensutham was moved from Bangkok Remand Prison to Khlong Prem Central Prison. 
 
The details of the case are available on iLaw. This is believed to be the longest sentence ever handed down for defamation of the monarchy, exceeding previous records of 34 years for a former head of the Office of the Chief of Staff for the Crown Prince (no details available), and 30 years for a musician (reduced to 15 years, details here).
 
In the course of the arrest and investigation, forced to sign over Facebook accounts of interest to military personnel, the wife of Tiensutham, nicknamed Kai, chose not to come forward, hoping that her silence might lessen her husband’s sentence. She only recently agreed to speak publicly.
 
Kai recounted their story, relating the conduct of the investigation and being a witness in the period after the coup, the judicial process in the military court and the impact on her family. Kai’s tale was frequently interrupted by tears.
 
Yai's wife -- Kai
 

1.

The Arrest

 
“He had never participated in any demonstrations. He’s a cyber-warrior who cannot abide falsehood. He didn’t only read Thai news but attended much to international affairs and loves democracy. During the prosperity of the Thaksin government he made good money and all his business moves were successful. Following the coup, however, things went sour and business dried up and he could find no work. He became anxious and upset and began to spend much more time on Facebook. Previously, he worked as a management consultant, bringing in hundreds of thousands of baht a month, with many companies seeking his services. He is an expert manager, although his degree is engineering. He had constant work and was loved by his subordinates.” 
 
“He did Facebook for a long time and the military says that they monitored him for at least three 
years. He made many posts. You can look at Facebook and find humorous posts. After the coup he heavily criticized the military, putting up graphics accusing them of deceiving the people. After his arrest, the military froze but did not close his Facebook account; they had us both sign over our Facebook accounts. They would use the accounts to trick those in private messaging. But now everyone knows. At first, we suspected that we were among many who were detained at the military base.”
 
“Probably we were detained when we were because the military noticed that Yai had stopped posting to Facebook. He stopped when he got a job offer from Lao to manage a four-nation Mekong Basin project and was preparing to fly over to sign a contract on 22 December. He was arrested only four days before going.”
 
“The officials feared that he knew he was under surveillance and rushed to ascertain that he was still at the same address. Knowing where he was, the military decided to detain him and about nine-thirty in the morning, when we both were at home; four or five women, I think soldiers in plainclothes and plain-clothes police. They said that they were looking for address 90/50. Our house is 90/25. The women asked whether it was that house over there and I answered, but they acted as though they didn’t understand and asked me to get someone else to explain and I called for Yai. When he came out, men jumped the wall—they must have set a trap—and 20-30 men surrounded the house while two or three grabbed Yai, pinning his arms and telling him not to squirm. I didn’t know what was going on.”
 
“They all came into the house. They were covered in dark shirts and didn’t show any badges. They were all out of uniform, both soldiers and police. Afterwards a soldier in camouflage drove up, entered and saw a photo of a child we are caring for who is in the cadet school. They were shocked and said how could the troops consider him a brother. He said that they would take everyone’s computers, iPhones, telephones, everything from the drawers and he took us both to the camp.”
 
“They separated us, and I was very worried, so anxious that I didn’t eat. Finally they had to let us eat together. When I saw that my husband was safe I felt better. After some rest they let me return home. About an hour later they came back for me, saying that the general wanted to talk. That evening they asked why, when I got back home, I logged out of Facebook. They knew immediately that I had logged out. I had my son logout for me; my sister advised me to logout. I didn’t know how to do it myself.”
 
“The room at the base was square, like a modified meeting room. It was partitioned by military cloth. There was a restroom, a rotating table. The door was locked and an armed soldier stood outside. I wondered who they were going to kill.”
 
“In the morning, they set up tables in a U-shape for questioning. There was a video camera too. They said otherwise it might be like the Kritsuda case and asked whether the soldiers had taken good care of me. I answered that they had. I answered only for myself.”
 
“They asked why I hate the military. Why I was against them. I said that we need to understand each other. I hate that of the military that kills members of the public, that harms the people. Both military and police. I support that of the military that is on the side of the people.”
 
“I confronted them. I wasn’t afraid because I spoke the truth. Like in a conversation. If I didn’t respond I would have seemed like a guilty suspect. If I respond they have an opposing response, like an exchange of ideas. What is democracy? Democracy comes from elections and I elected a prime minister. What is wrong about that?”
 

2

The Judgment

 
“I was wrong in thinking that we weren’t news. First, Yai was just an ordinary citizen. Second, he wasn’t a leader or famous; he didn’t stand out in any way. If I raised an outcry that might rouse anger and he might receive a harsher sentence. If I was quiet the sentence might be mild. Then he was sentenced. If I knew it was going to be like this I would have liked to have been in the news. In fact, the soldiers themselves told me at the base. I asked them, “Tell me straight, can you? How many years will Yai be in jail? So I can prepare myself and plan for the future.” A high-ranking soldier, superior to all the others, said, “A year; not more than two.” That’s truly what he said and I believed him. I believe what people say. The other soldiers told me not to believe it, even though the police also said one or two years. But I felt like, “Yes—they say the same thing”.”
 
“He recited: “Five, five, twenty-five.” Yai asked me if I could fight. Because of the long sentence he couldn’t. I told myself, “Don’t fight. No one has ever fought and won.””
 
“We borrowed 50,000 from relatives, added to the 20,000 in the bank that’s all we have. I tried to post bail with it four times without success.”
 
“When we knew that Yai would face the military court, I became very anxious. I didn’t know how it was different. When I asked, they said that the military court gives harsher sentences and there is no appeal like for the ordinary court. I was very upset and anxious, but I didn’t imagine it would be this harsh. I steeled myself for a maximum of five years per each of the five counts. His confession would cut the total down to 10 plus years. I thought that that would be the very worst outcome and that I could bear it.”
 
“Faced with the actual outcome I went numb. Did I want to cry? Did I feel faint? Yes. But at that moment, I had to be strong; otherwise it would be the worse for Yai. I just said to him, “I’m a fighter. Fighters have to be strong and endure any and everything that may happen. I won’t leave you. I’ll wait for you.” Tears welled up in his eyes and he said, “Bear with it. If you are strong I will be strong too.” I knew then that those on the outside can help. If we are weak it’s worse for those inside. Finally he couldn’t hold back anymore and he wept freely, but did not sob so as to cause a disturbance.”
 
“When I learned the judgment? The judgment was given in camera in the courtroom and I was not allowed in. Everyone but the lawyer had to wait outside. But the court read the verdict very quickly afterwards.”
 
“When Yai and the lawyer came out of the room I watched his face to guess what had happened. He shook his head. I didn’t think it would be so bad. I thought maybe three years per count, but I understood from his shaking his head that it was five. I asked. Tears welled up in Yai’s eyes and he said “Fifty years.” I was stunned, but a crowd was gathering in front of the room and he was taken downstairs. He said to wait and he’d tell me what happened.”
 
“The children were there and were speechless. They came out front and wept, protesting, “What’s wrong with this world? How can this be?” We slipped away; people were going below to see Yai. He was very upset. Chain smoking with other prisoners. His minders had all guessed wrong. They too were stunned. The police were befuddled.”
 
“When we went downstairs courtroom, Film (Kai’s son), he had brought flowers. I didn’t know. Near his birthday he asks for his father’s blessings. He brought the garland and bowed to Yai. It was deeply touching; an image to cherish. He bowed deeply and Yai wept loudly. Both of my children knelt to the floor, their faces against his legs. Their father placed his hinds on their heads in blessing. I sat to one side till I needed to wipe his face, covered in tears. The children were weeping and shaking, and Yai told Film to lift his head and look at his father. Film would not look up and I could only say, “Father can accept your garland, but he cannot take it into the prison. Mother will keep it (Telling this, Kai cried).”
 
“Film was angry but did not know what to do. He wanted to ask, “What did he do so wrong to deserve this? Murderers get out on bail. This much punishment just for thinking differently? It’s just going on in his brain; why such harsh punishment?””
 

3.

Effects

 
“With him here we could do almost anything. With just me, the family is incomplete. I only had a little education, but Yai has much learning and is a great benefit for both my children. He was expected to go far. I don’t know much about education, but I’m good at buying and selling. Yai taught me English, taught us a great deal so that we didn’t have to spend money on special schools. Now we don’t have him and I can’t afford special schools. I have nothing to give the children. It’s all over.”
 
“Yai’s relationship with the children? I asked Film, he had just recently visited Yai, why he was crying. “Why do you love Yai so much?” He said, “You just don’t understand. You understand the word “family”? That’s what he didn’t have. Film only had a father after I met Yai. They watched football together, watched this and that together. They did things together. If you ask, “Did I choose Yai?” I have to answer, “No, the children chose him.” I introduced him to Film and Nueng, and they accepted him first. I decided afterwards.”
 
“My children were never before interested in politics. We didn’t get involved. But now they question everything. They have more opinions than I do. They say, “Facebook belongs to another country, how can they arrest Father? Father didn’t kill anybody; the judgment is excessive.” As a result they’ve been trying to learn why their father is being punished so severely. Every day now they look for things to read. This is an effect of loss and pain, and intensifies their anger. I worry. I don’t want them to think that way. I tell them to concentrate on school and not get involved in politics; I’ve got no one.”
 
“I’m fortunate that my parents take good care of us. In the past my mother has bought sweets, sticky rice and durian for us. There’s plenty to eat at my mother’s house. She is concerned for her grandchildren and wants the kids and me to sleep at her house. I know that she is comfortable, but when I’m feeling depressed, I don’t want anyone to see. It has happened that while eating at Mother’s house, being happy, I began to cry when I saw things that he ate. Mother walked away, then turned and said, “Don’t be like this!””
 
“I understand everything at home. Mother says that if he gets out and can’t find work, then we’ll take care of each other here. I’m not overly worried. I would like him to get out and at the least be a grandfather to his grandchildren.”
 
“People say, “Why are you complaining. Everyone has troubles.” It’s true, others have problems, but they’re not all the same. We don’t know what other people’s responsibilities are, what their lives are like. I’m a good housewife and now head of the family by default. It’s tiring. Yai supported me; now I have to support him.”
 
“Yai has nothing left of his own, but I tell him I’ll take care of him. I’ve gone back to buying and selling things.”
 
“His old family has rejected him. He had sent his son to study abroad, and shortly before he was arrested he picked him up at the airport. After his arrest he told his daughter by phone, but the daughter chose to fly back, angry that Yai had left his/her mother. They had been separated for a long time. The adults didn’t get along, but Yai still did his full duty as a father, trying to give his daughter whatever she needed. When he met me he didn’t have anything left. Just his dog, a beagle.”
 
“Many men are interested in me now, but I can’t abandon him. Whatever happens, I have to take care of him. The fullness we had makes it impossible to abandon him and I’ve told him I won’t leave him. For him to lose me I would have to die and leave this world. If we were to separate, it would be after he is released. I could not leave with him in this condition. I cannot leave him (cries). I tell him that I’ll be the one who meets him at the gate when he leaves. He didn’t kill anybody. He didn’t sell drugs. The punishment is far too cruel. I will take the best care of him and wait for the day of his release—however long that is.”

 

4.

At the Prison

 
“We haven’t yet requested a royal pardon. We’re waiting for him to achieve the status of first-grade prisoner. He’s now in the middle rank. He is teaching English to the other prisoners and the prison personnel see that he has both English and computer knowledge. This should help him to attain first-grade status.”
 
“Visits at Klong Prem Central Prison? I don’t like to talk about it, but I have to tell the worst. I really detest the body checks. Aren’t there devices they can use? Do they have to grope with their hands (she brought her hand up as though to grope her breasts)? They’re females, but I still don’t like it. They grab everything. You can’t take in money. You can’t take in a notepad; you have to tear out a single sheet of paper.”
 
“You can visit once a week at the most. And you shouldn’t have a designated day. You should be allowed to come any day because when there are long weekends and holidays like Songkran you can’t visit, sometimes two weeks in a row. I’m concerned about his health too. He’s not young and I worry.”
 
“Visits are limited to 30 minutes, but it’s not like Bangkok Remand Prison where there are private visits. Here it’s a competition. They let a hundred, two hundred relatives in at once. Then there’s a glass shield separating the relatives five meters from the prisoners. You talk by telephone; they can’t really see each other. There are reflections on the glass any you have to lean this way and that to get a glimpse.”
 
“It’s like going to the zoo. You feel like the panda Lin Hui is going back to China. Like that. You pass multiple checks then have to walk zigzag, as if it were a game. When you finally get in there’s yet another check, then go right or left. It’s like musical chairs. If Yai arrives first, he sits waiting impatiently and I have to run to see him. If I don’t see him, I move on and another visitor takes the chair. It’s a long hall and I look for him: Is he here?”
 
“Yai seems to be in better spirits, but I wonder if he’s in bad shape deep down. We can’t say much. Lèse majesté cases have both supporters and opponents there (in the prison); when asked he just says that he violated the computer crimes act.”
 
“When I visit he says, “Mother Kai, Mother Kai, do you know that I used to love Mondays because Mother Kai visited on Mondays. Now I very much love Fridays” (Visiting day had been shifted to Friday). And he cries. I ask why and he says that he misses Mother Kai very much. “Mother Kai, do you remember that I used to kiss your cheek every morning? That I took care of you?””
 
“I try to have some enjoyment too. Facebook can help. I get anxious when I try to relax with my parents, so I relax with friends. At the least there is the word “Strive!” It’s only a small word but it gives a good feeling.”
 
“Since 18 December (the day of the arrest) I’ve had no day without tears. But the tears have changed. At first I sobbed. Now the tears fall quietly.”
 
“For the past five months I have not missed a single visiting day. Do I have a wish? Just a little. If he is released that will be the greatest joy. I want everyone to have such joy. But he is suffering now.” 
 

Tom Dundee: French-educated country singer-turned-lèse majesté prisoner

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Thanat Thanawatcharanon aka Tom Dundee was recognized as a celebrity for more than a decade before he disappeared from the media. Recently he re-appeared after being accused of defaming the monarchy and violating orders of the military government.

 
According to Wikipedia, the nickname ‘Tom Dundee’ is the combination of the name of a character in the Indiana Jones series of films and the name of the city of Dundee in Scotland. But Tom explained that ‘Dundee’ was given by a member of his band, Sek of the Zu Zu band, after the character in the ‘Crocodile Dundee’ movie who shares his cheeky personality.
 
 
Besides being a singer, he once produced the ‘Tom Dundee’ condom with the scent of frangipani. The condom was rejected by the Ministry of Culture, the Food and Drug Administration and the Department of Religion due to its inappropriate name. Dundee, which can refer to sexual intercourse in Thai, was believed to encourage youngsters to have sex.
 
On 20 May, Tom was 57 years old, and had been in prison for 11 months. Two days ago he went to the military court in order to hear witnesses and evidence. He denied all of the accusations and is prepared to fight the case. The court will interrogate witnesses in camera on 4 August.
 
During his imprisonment, he was subject to a further accusation of violating Article 112 in two of his speeches that were publicized on YouTube. His case was transferred from the criminal court to the military court after the military coup in 2014.
“I have to accept this, I am a public figure”, said Tom on his birthday before he was sent back to prison, handcuffed and in a prison uniform.
 
We have to look back to his childhood to understand his ideology and his motivation to engage in political movements.
 
“Perhaps, both of them made me,” Tom said of the influence of both his parents.  His father was a school principal in Phetchaburi and once a medic in the Thai Freedom Movement [the Thai underground organization during World War II] who had a progressive political ideology, and his mother was an actress.
 
He said that his childhood was tough. There were 11 kids in his family. Tom was quite naughty so he did not receive much care. Rather than stay at home, he chose to wander the world until he received a scholarship from the government. He went to France where he stayed for six years to study language, music and photography.
 
The cover of a album of Tom Dundee
 
Besides studying, he worked as a perfume store manager, a guide and an interpreter for the commercial attaché of the Embassy. He also played music at restaurants, and went so far as to exhibit boxing in the Embassy since he had practiced at ‘Phudphadnoi Worawut’, a Thai boxing camp in France.
 
His time as a guard was the last phase of the life of Pridi Banomyong. Tom was able to meet Pridi, in 1981, two years before Pridi passed away. From his work at the Embassy as head of reception of Thai students in France, Tom had the chance to eat at Pridi’s house. Tom also became close friends with some of his children, and talked about history with Khunying Poonsuk. Tom said that many Thai students gathered there to play music. Tom was taught about music philosophy by one of Pridi’s son.
 
He entered the music business when he came back to Thailand as a singer in the Zu Zu band. He produced many albums and went on countrywide tours. He said that time his life was at its peak.
 
He was seriously engaged in the political sphere in 2010 before the Red Shirts rally was broken up by the government. He decided to be one of the Red Shirt leaders, which meant losing income from his concert tours. He used to do 20-25 concerts per month but after he took part in the movement, most were cancelled.
 
“We are seeing the people are suffering for democracy, making a living and justice. The kindness of ordinary people has allowed me to live well like this, so I decided to go on the stage,” said Tom.
 
“Just like clocks, it does not matter what brand they are, what matters is if they work correctly. The same goes for people; it does not matter who are you or where are you from, what matters is whether you have justice inside your heart or not. Actions are all that matter,” said Tom
 
The crackdown in 2010 was like a turning point for Tom to fully engage in politics. According to his wife who looked after him at that time, in 2011 Tom went to talk to villagers in many provinces with other activist fellows who created the Red Shirt villages. But after 2012, Tom decided to leave the group because of a problem of political transparency of some activist leaders, and he travelled alone.
 
 
Tom Dundee sings at an ordination party on 30 March 2013
 
“In 2011, we travelled upcountry a lot.  We almost never went home that year. We talked with the villagers about democracy, the importance of cooperation in our group, while others in the team talked about history and politics. Later on, some activists had money problems so we left. We started to travel alone, spending all our own money. We did not have much money to travel often. When we went, the two of us went by tour bus,” his wife said.
 
Tom said that the reason why he went upcountry was to meet and exchange with the people in rural areas as much as he could to tell them that they were being exploited.
 
“Our land is abundant with resources. Why are the people still poor? Why do they not have good opportunities? Who is exploiting us? And who will give us a chance?” said Tom.
 
At the end of 2010, Tom was denounced to the DSI by a network of volunteer citizens protecting the monarchy, calling for his prosecution for his speeches at Ratchaburi. The network believed that these were defamatory but the case seemed to go quiet. 
 
After his heavy mobilization work and with no income from entertainment, Tom turned into a full-time farmer. He had inherited more than 30 rai [5 hectares] in his home town after his father died. He planted many crops: bamboo shoots, limes, mangoes, bananas, coconuts, marian plums, betel, etc. He relied on the income from his land for his living.
 
“He planted, harvested, and sold all by himself. He often went to rallies where he would sell stuff. After he finished on the stage, he came down and sold bamboo shoots, limes and mangoes” his wife said.
 
 
Tom Dundee when he appears at Bangkok military court
 
After the 2014 military coup, Tom’s name was on the NCPO list of people to report in to the military. At that time he was at his farm and had no TV so he did not know about this right away. When he heard the news, he contacted military officers to say he would report the next day. But he was arrested before that and harshly interrogated by officers who believed that he was related to war weapons (see more here). He was detained at the Crime Suppression Department before transferred to prison. The others who did not report and who were arrested at the same time were all released but Tom has been detained without bail until today because he was accused of violating Article 112.
 
At first, he was nervous but he gradually managed to adapt to the crowded conditions and standards of life in prison.
 
“He is a fighter, the only For Life singer [Thai music style] in Thailand. His determination never changes. He really should be a National Artist.”, said Somyos Prueksakasemsuk, former Red Power editor who is charged under Article 112 and is imprisoned in the same area as Tom.
 
“He is relied on by other prisoners and he was very funny and good at dirty jokes. His wife is all he thinks of.” This is Somyos’ explanation.
 
In the last months in prison, his jokes seemed to become fewer. Laughter has gradually been replaced by stress waiting for 4 August when the final chapter will come.
 
“In the future, people will be confused and ask ‘How could this kind of case occur in society?’” said Tom.
 
The story is originally in Thai and was translated into English by Yiamyut Sutthichaya

Thai theater actors in exile after coup

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Two theater activists have been jailed for insulting the King for their involvement with the Wolf Bride, a student play which parodies the Thai political conflict. At least two actors have fled Thailand because they acted in the same play.  

 
 
 
 
It took only a day for three members of the now-defunct Prakai Fai Karn Lakorn to create the plot and write the script of the Wolf Bride -- the first ever  stage play to land people in jail for lèse majesté. Full of sarcasm toward the Thai monarchy and Thai politics, the Wolf Bride was performed only once, on 13 October 2013, at Thammasat University. The performance, lasting about an hour, put Patiwat ‘Bank’ Saraiyam, 24, and Pornthip ‘Golf’ Munkong, 26, behind bars, sentenced to two years and six months in jail after they were found guilty of lèse majesté. Other actors, most of them are under 30, are living in fear. Six other actors are reportedly wanted by the police. Some of them fled Thailand and now live in self-imposed exile in a neighbouring country of Thailand. (For the safety of the sources, Prachatai decided to withhold the locations and some information regarding the sources.)
 
 
Patiwat ‘Bank’ Saraiyam and Pornthip ‘Golf’ Munkong at Ratchada Criminal Court
 
For a long time, the plays produced by the group had been about unutterable subjects in Thai society. Each time the group was testing the limit, thinking that they have more freedom when communicating through art.  
 
“Pook” is the disguised name of a 19-year-old actor who starred in the Wolf Bride. After Bank and Golf were arrested, the actor left his home town in the Deep South, moving from place to place, hiding before deciding to leave the country for freer air in August 2014.
 
“I talked less than 10 minutes on stage but it has ruined my entire life. I just had two exams at Ramkhamhaeng and now I have to live here -- no future,” Pook told Prachatai. 
 
Pook was a first year politics student at Ramkhamhaeng University. His college life and future in education in Bangkok ended abruptly after the coup-makers decided that the harmless, amateur play was a threat to national security.
 
Khao Niaw (sticky rice) is the disguised name of another actor. The 30-year-old activist has starred in about 20 student plays, most of them staged at a small events, such as volunteer camps. In contrast to Pook, Khao Niaw long anticipated the day of exile.
 
The Brahmin advisor (played by Patiwat in the middle) poisons the king in the Wolf Bride.
 
Anxiety about Thai politics and the suppression of opinions worry him and at the same time made him determined to push the limits of the utterable by testing the limits through plays. At the same time, Khao Niaw studied possible ‘new’ countries in Southeast Asia regarding society, politics, food, cost of living and language.
 
“When I read the script of the Wolf Bride, I thought ‘oh I’ll have to flee for sure’. When I said this to others, like my family, they said I was talking nonsense because it’s just a play. I decided to perform it anyway because I thought I’d live in self-imposed exile someday as I don’t want to live in Thailand anymore,” said the Bangkok native and graduate in Politics from Ramkhamhaeng. 
 
Khao Niaw said he regretted of not being able to flee earlier. Because he is wanted on an arrest warrant, Khao Niaw illegally, and inconveniently, crossed the Thai border. 
 
“I had thought that I was well prepared for the exile, but in fact I set myself up all wrong.  I was impetuous,” said Sticky Rice.  
 
The Wolf Bride was created by three people, including Golf and Pook. Given the title the Wolf Bride, the story has nothing to do much with the bride, which is a wolf. The storyline is weak. The main storyline is constantly interrupted by short stories. 
 
The play is rather full of improvisation. The play tells the story of an imaginative kingdom governed by a monarch who became powerful after he married his wolf bride and killed her. The monarch becomes weak after being poisoned by his Brahmin adviser, played by Patiwat. When the Brahmin adviser takes care of the administration for the ailing king, he takes bribes from a merchant who proposes a mega project of constructing a shopping mall on the king’s property. Later the image of the king in a mirror mysteriously comes to life. The figure takes over the administration, abuses his power and gets overconfident as the ailing king unwittingly rests. 
 
The image of the king in a mirror mysteriously comes to life in the Wolf Bride
 
While the first monarch represents the establishment, the mirror image, Pook said, signifies Thaksin Shinawatra, the former prime minister of Thailand and a divisive figure in Thai politics, and the dearest leader of the red shirts.
 
“We want to show the inconsistencies of the so-called pro-democracy red-shirt movement. Thaksin is worshipped by those who say they’re calling for democracy. Thaksin is no different from the old power if he could not be criticized. There are people who have started to forbid criticism of Thaksin. Protection of Thaksin is spreading all over,” the artist said.  
 
Both Khao Niaw and Pook agree that the message encrypted in the play may not go far. 
 
“I don't think most of the audience understand the message. It’s partly our fault. We didn’t rehearse well enough. Some were staging a play for the first time. The actors were not so into their roles either.”
 
……................................
 
About 10 days after the coup-makers took power, the NCPO on 1 June 2014 summoned 28 activists to report to the military. It turned out that at least 11 people were interrogated about their involvement with the Wolf Bride and were forced to give the names of the actors. 
 
“I understand that my activist friends were forced to give up the names of Golf, Bank and me,” said Khao Niaw.
 
Three days later, arrest warrants were issued. In mid-August, Golf and Bank were arrested. 
 
Khao Niaw said he left home with only 4,000 baht in cash. Pook said he was chased out of the house when his royalist relatives (he is an orphan) knew what caused his trouble and also threatened to kill him.
 
“I’m very afraid, the most afraid in my life,” said Pook. Pook and Khao Niaw said living illegally in a neighbouring country is better than hiding inside the country. 
 
In a new city in a new country, they still have to be very careful. Rumours say Thai security officers may come and abduct them at any time. When they go out daily to the local market to buy food and goods, they have to wear sunglasses and caps to disguise themselves. The location of their new house is also top secret. 
 
Khao Niaw and Pook reside in the same house with six other people. Everyone -- all men -- in the house is a Thai political exile. Some of them are wanted for lèse majesté. 
 
The house is run like a commune. Each of them pays 40 baht a day for dinner and they have instant noodles for lunch.
 
They produce political podcast programmes everyday. Their incomes are partly from the donations from programme fans. 
 
Pook, who by nature is an introverted, quiet person, has been forced to change his nature. In order to attract donations, Pook turned into a fierce and funny political commentator, whose programme may land him with more charges and jail terms due to his comments on the Thai royal family. 
 
“If the Thai authorities know who I am, I may have to serve 15,000 more years in jail. I have never talked this much in my life, but I have no choice. If I don’t do it, I will starve,” said Pook. 
 
Khao Niaw, meanwhile, co-hosts a programme on music and politics and is also responsible for technical support of the podcast station. 
 
Moreover, Pook and Khao Niaw are in an environment where people talk politics 24/7. Their current job is discussing Thai politics and their future is highly dependent on Thai politics. This leads to anxiety and depression for Pook.  
 
“The lives of us exiles consist of nothing but politics -- the monarchy, Prayut, red and yellow shirts.” 
 
This is not to mention conflict among the exiles, mostly related to allegations about funding and donations. 
 
“It bloody stinks. It’s all about money. Exiles are merchants and the donors are consumers. They are competing for donations.”
 
Pook said his mental illness, depression, has worsened because of his boring, meaningless life. Also, he has no private space and private life because he has to live with others in the house almost all the time. He admits that he thinks of suicide many times a day. 
 
Because he entered the country illegally, he could not go to a psychiatrist. 
 
 
The king marries the wolf bride before killing her in the Wolf Bride
 
 
Prospects for the future
 
Pook said he deeply wants to continue his education. He contacted several embassies to apply for refugee status, but never heard back from them. 
 
“I’ve gone to all the embassies here. I want to leave for a third country to get to study again. But it wasn’t successful at all. Right now it’s very gloomy to the point where I’m beginning to give up and lose hope.”
 
“Life goes on from day to day. No meaning. Wake up, eat, record the programme, talk with the patrons for donations, then have dinner, and go to bed,” the young activist said. 
 
As for Khao Niaw, he sees life in exile as an opportunity and enjoys his new role as political commentator and ‘full-time activist’. 
 
“Some information is banned in Thailand and Thais are craving for the truth. We exploit this opportunity, now that we’re now outside Thailand, to feed those who’re craving,” said Khao Niaw. 
 
Mr. Sticky Rice believes he will have to stay in the country for at least two more years. He also hopes to apply for refugee status with the UNHCR, but his conditions do not yet meet the criteria. 
 
Nevertheless, they both are counting the days for big changes to take place in Thailand -- the change which cannot be triggered from outside.
 
“I hope that the Thai people will stop being so relaxed. Do we have to wait till the economy collapses before they’re aware of the importance of the right to election?” said Khao Niaw. 
 
“I want change in Thailand, the collapse of feudalism and democracy flourishing on Thai soil. But it may be very difficult because Thai people are very patient,” said Pook. 
 
Asked about the art that caused him to flee, Pook said “Art is created along with human history. Everything around us has an element of art. However, the art which I made turns out to be illegal. Why are the phu yai in this country so narrow-minded about art!” 

Romancing the tanks: how military rom-com’s constant remakes since the ʼ70s legitimize coups

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Above: A promotional photo of Phu Kong Yod Rak. Below: Soldiers suppress a miners’ protest in Isaan after the 2014 coup. 
 
Since the 70s, Thais have been encountering periodic remakes of a military-themed romantic comedy. Its nine—that’s right, nine—manifestations, released after military coups, show themes of legitimizing and romanticizing the military. 
 
Virtually all Thais have encountered at least one of the nine adaptations of Phu Kong Yod Rak, a romantic comedy novel written by Kanchana Nakanan. Phu Kong Yod Rank, or My Super Lovely Captain, has been made into a movie twice, in 1973 and 1981, and into a soap opera seven times: in 1972, 1979, 1988, 1995, 2002, 2007, and most recently, the currently-running 2015 version, which has just finished its primetime showing on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays on Channel 3. 
 
What’s interesting to note is that remakes of My Super Lovely Captain occur in the years immediately following military coups.  
 
 
Remakes of My Super Lovely Captain occur in the same year as, or in the years following, both failed and successful coups. But then again, this could just be because we have so many damn coups.See larger image
 
Mandatory post-coup PR 
 
Chanan Yodhong, historian and author of Nai Nai, a book about male consorts in Rama VI’s court, says that Nakanan’s novels such as Phu Kong Yod Rak emphasize the theme of patriotism through rural-urban oppositions as well as across different socioeconomic status. 
 
Each remake of Phu Kong was produced “under different conditions and political contexts, or hidden agendas” says Chanan. For example, the first lakorn version, produced in 1972 and aired on the now non-existent Channel 4 [currently the MCOT channel], was after Field Marshal Thanom Kittikachorn’s 1971 coup. The intention of that version was to preserve his military dictatorship, says Chanan. The 2007 version, aired on the also now non-existent ITV, was after the 2006 coup by Gen Sonthi Boonyaratglin, and made with the same intention, continued the historian. After the 2014 coup by Gen Prayut Chan-o-cha, a 2015 version was made, and is airing on Channel 3, which consistently produces lakorns advocating extreme-right ideals, said Chanan.
 
“One of those extreme-right ideals is championing the military as an anchor that the nation can depend upon,” says the historian. “In the plot, the soldiers provide medical aid, relieving the aches and pains of the people. They are also sacrificial saviours, using weapons to defeat ‘the Enemy’ for national security.”
 
The most recent 2015 remake, starring “Ter” Chantavit Dhanasevi and “Margie” Rasri Balenciaga, reinforce how the military—and by extension, the ruling military junta— is intrinsically good-natured, noble, funny, and romantic. The soap reinforces and naturalizes far-right ideals of how military power is not only natural but beneficial to the nation.
 
The remakes all follow the same plot. Pan Namsuphan, a provincial young man from Suphanburi who speaks with a strong local accent, signs up for the army as a recruit and pursues his commanding medical officer, Captain Chweepong, daughter of the overprotective Lieutenant Colonel. Pan’s strong local dialect makes him seem funny and innocent.
 
Pan’s choice to sign up for the military, instead of getting conscripted, is emphasized over and over again as a dutiful choice. Pan and the local monk dissuade Pan’s parents, who are upset at his volunteering, by saying that serving the country is the duty of a “true, complete man.” 
 
“The lakorn fails to question the necessity of conscription,” says Chanan. 
 
The lakorn’s idea of being a “true man,” however, is being a servant to commanding officers. The training officer, Sergeant Tong, yells at them to crawl into camp. “It’s your duty to crawl!” Sergeant yells at the Suphan recruits as he rides into the camp on an empty bus. 
 
Pan and his recruit friend cleaning up for the Colonel. 
 
The Colonel and his family have a “servant soldier” to help them out with chores around the house, a role which is filled by Pan. Due to his down-to-earth provinciality, Pan is able to bargain for cheap groceries, massage the legs of the stingy Colonel’s wife, and do various other household chores.
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The Colonel and the Captain look at Pan behind bars.
 
The Colonel constantly threatens Pan and his friends with random, unprovoked incarcerations for the rest of the series, naturalizing the military’s strong arm in jailing whomever for whatever. In fact, the term the Colonel and the Major use to threaten Pan is “ขังลืม” (kang luem), literally “jailed and forgotten,” that is, jailed indefinitely without possibility of release. (Unfortunately, this is a common saying in Thai.) In episode 8, the Colonel explicitly suggests kang leum as a way to get rid of Pan that “will not bring trouble to me.”
 
  
Pan pays his respects to the Colonel’s wife. 
 
Prachatai’s contact in the military weighs in on Phu Kong’s portrayal of “servant soldiers.” This colonel says that the lakorn was “completely unrealistic” in this regard, because only extremely high-ranking officers could even think of having a servant soldier. There was no way that a colonel, much less a medical officer, would have anyone to drive them around. 
 
“I think the lakorn focuses too much on the recruits being servant soldiers. It reflects badly on the military, since the audience could assume, ‘Wow, that’s what they do with the recruits!’”
 
He went on to explain that at least 95 per cent of recruits do jobs such as patrolling the borders or guarding outposts, that is, “non-sabai work.” The other five per cent, usually recruits with a degree, are assigned to assist in administrative tasks, such as those that deal with computers, like making Word or PowerPoint documents, and other jobs for commanding officers. 
 
“Of course some soldier assistants have to go to the market to pick up food for the other officers, and any chores done by them is all on royal government grounds. It’s kind of part of the culture.” 
 
“But of course, no recruit has to soak rocks in brine for the commanding officers!” In one episode, Pan does this for the Colonel’s wife. “It’s funny that the lakorn is airing at this point in time. Soldiers in real life would never be sabai like ‘Ter’ [the actor playing Pan].”
 
Chanan explores the use of servant soldiers, too. The lakorn fails to question whether it is ethical to use servant soldiers outside of work hours on private property, funded by citizens’ taxes, he said. 
 
Pasteurized, romanceable soldiers
 
“Military lakorns and films in the comedy, war, drama, and royalist genres receive enormous support from the state, and are produced whenever the state feels unstable,” continues Chanan. “Phu Kong Yod Rak pasteurizes the images of the military as tyrannical, backwards, barbaric, uncouth, violent towards citizens, and violators of human rights that have been circulating since the 22 May 2014 coup, presenting instead images of troops as romantic, funny, and lively.” 
 
The historian compares this “pasteurization” by lakorn to Khu Kam, another often-remade drama (12 adaptations in all) that that uses romantic love between a Japanese soldier and a Thai woman during the Greater East Asia War to rewrite history. “New, selective memories from these dramas replace real-life ones about abuse during the Japanese occupation. Brutal violence is replaced with youthful love.” 
 
Chanan says that the use of humour and love, especially in military romantic comedies, humanizes the institution in the eyes of the public. Usually, there is love across ranks, where a recruit falls in love with a higher ranking female officer. “This destroys the image of the military as a regimented, power-based system. Instead, they look like friendly, gentle, nonviolent individuals.” 
 
In the first episode, Pan has a dream sequence about marrying the Captain. 
 
Private Pan has fallen in love with Captain Chaweepong, a pretty medical officer and daughter of the overprotective Colonel. Indeed, the Colonel often warns Pan to be humble and not aspire to love his daughter, since they are from different social ranks. 
 
When the Captain finds out that Pan hid from her his background as an educated law student, he tells a story about putting gold leaf on the back of a Buddha image instead of the front (แปะทองหลังพระ). This is a common Thai idiom, so the fact that Pan literally acted out this idiom is quite an unsubtle message of constructing the ideal citizen under military rules; easy to command, skilled but humble, and entirely unassuming. 
 
One of Pan’s conscript friends, from Post Today. 
 
As for humour, Chanan said that funny moments in the lakorn were also a great, albeit illusory, class-breaking tool, especially when authority figures were being teased or tricked. Our military contact conceded this point. “If officers played pranks on their commanding officers in real life, they would be jailed immediately. It’s a comedic lakorn, so the characters don’t follow any real-life rules.”
 
The constant joking around by the military characters, while making the military seem friendly and accessible, may produce the unintended consequence of making the military seem silly, as has been expressed in online comments. In order to gauge public opinion on the portrayal of the military in Phu Kong Yod Rak, a forum topic was created on the popular website Pantip. Out of 15 comments, two used the word “retarded” for how they perceived the lakorn’s military. 
 
Five of the comments were defensive and slightly angry for suggesting that we take a lakorn seriously, saying “If it makes you think and stress so much, just go to sleep.” The rest of the comments were divided evenly among relating the broadcast to the junta, the lakorn showing foolish/impossible ideals, and making recruits look bad. Based on this poll we can see that while some Thais refuse to take this lakorn seriously, others are willing to criticize what they are shown on screen.
 
As far as the lakorn is concerned, soldiers live a fun life in camp, and occasionally venture out to aid citizens. 
 
“Stupid, poor, sick” 
 
“Propaganda often arrives in the form of lakorns and films,” says the historian. “The fun adventures of recruits do not challenge, or even refer to how the military interferes in the public political sphere in real life.”
 
Chanan elaborates on how such propaganda is completely devoid of soldiers brutalizing political protesters, harassing the families of activists, and other actions to preserve a dictatorship. Instead, troops are seen as giving medical care to remote communities in the countryside, he says.
 
A possessed hill tribe girl being beaten by a drug-trafficking bandit. 
 
In one episode, the recruits go to “the villages” to dig trenches against flooding for “the villagers.” In another, Private Pan and the Captain arrive just in time to “save” hill tribe villagers from drug-trafficking bandits and malicious, possessing spirits.
 
Meanwhile, Pan teaches the “barbaric” villagers basic hygiene and common sense through a ridiculous song that includes hand motions. The song, in the tune of the Thai children’s song “Chang,” included “Wash, wash, wash, wash, wash your hands / are your hands clean?” and “Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, / is your body warm enough?” Prachatai has a hard time believing that hill tribes are children who need a soldier to tell them to put on clothes when the weather is cold. 
 
Pan teaches hill tribes villagers how to use spoons. 
 
Romanticizing the military is a neither new nor rare phenomenon. 
 
Phu Kong Yod Rak is far from being the only form of propaganda romanticizing the military. 
 
Popular songs, strong in the consciousness of many Thais, often romanticize the military. Joe Amarin’s “Goodbye to Maeklong” (ลาสาวแม่กลอง) (2000) and luk-thung singer Yodrak Salakjai’s “New Soldier Joins the Army” (ทหารใหม่ไปกอง ) talk about how a soldier sent far away sacrifices being with his lover to serve the country. The same theme is used in Nhu Meter’s “On the Frontline, Goodbye to Girlfriend,” (แนวหน้าลาแฟน) and the corresponding song, Dao Mayuri’s “Waiting in the Rearguard,” (แนวหลังยังคอย), the titles of which require no further explanation.้
 
Screenshot from “Northeast Unit 2: Son of Isaan.” 
 
Not only do Thai soldiers feature in songs about leaving their girlfriends behind, they also find new ones while on the job. Pai Pongsatorn’s “2nd Army: Son of Isaan” (ทบ 2 ลูกอีสาน) tells of a soldier from the northeast deployed to the southernmost provinces. “On good, uneventful days the Malay-speaking lady and the Isaan man / smile at each other, sharing kindnesses / We’re from different regions, but we’re all Thai people / After I get released, I’ll call the number you gave me.” Interestingly, this might be a favourite of Col Sansern Kaewkamnerd, currently the NCPO spokesperson, who chose to sing this song in public.
 
Col Sansern Keawkamnerd singing “2nd Army: Son of Isaan” (ทบ 2 ลูกอีสาน) for recruits during the 2011 flood. 
 
After watching remake after remake of the same plot of lovable soldiers, it’s easy to turn and watch nationalist lakorns rather than reality. Broadcast after broadcast of Phu Kong Yod Rak eventually moulds the primetime slot into hours of nationalistic spectacle. 

Fast & Furious Bus Line 8: An investigation into poor service

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Editor’s note: While expatriates regularly complain about Bangkok's tricky taxi drivers, Bangkokian Thais are facing much worse -- the poor bus services, offered by both the Thai government and private companies. Most of the complaints from passengers direct to the private-run bus lines. The common problems are that buses do not stop at the appointed stops and buses are driven in a frightening manner. From 2011 to 2013 there were 29 road accidents in Bangkok involving buses, with 30 deaths and 100 injuries 

The most notorious bus line is the No. 8 Bus which drives through Bangkok’s worst traffic from Bang Kapi in eastern Bangkok to King Rama I Memorial Bridge (Saphan Phut) in central Bangkok. Last June, three people were injured when a speeding No. 8 Bus hit a BTS skytrain pillar. In March 2014, a No. 8 Bus hit and crushed a motorcycle, instantly killing a 13-year-old boy. In 2011, one person was killed and another injured while waiting at a bus stop when a No. 8 Bus was competing with another bus for space to stop at the bus stop.   
 
“We speed for our customers, terrifying all in Ladprao, dashing all the way to King Rama I Memorial Bridge! Running straight ahead like we are fleeing a disaster!  Yelling out “duck” to all that we pass! Giving way to every motorcycle! Striking every curve and lane around Victory Monument! Even before the bus stop, the door opens! Rushing crazily to Central Ladprao! Cutting off the police cars! Checkpoint? No need to stop! 8 baht all along the route - if you don’t pay, get the fuck off!,” wrote a dissatisfied customer on social media.
 
To find out the source of the poor service, the author studied the quality of public transportation services and found that unfair working conditions for drivers and ticket collectors are the main source of poor service. 
 
Patranit Jitsamruay is a third year student in journalism at Silpakorn University. This report, originally published in Thai on Prachatai, is part of her Prachatai 2014 fellowship for youth, and translated into English by Andrew Alan Johnson. 
 
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People get in and out of Bus Line 8 at Victory Monument, one of the busiest bus stops in Bangkok
 
Public transportation is the most common means of travel for the population of Bangkok. According to Bangkok’s Mass Transit Authority (BMTA), around three million people use mass transportation each day. Underneath the BMTA are also a variety of state-run enterprises affiliated with the Ministry of Transportation, arranging motorized transport within Bangkok, Nonthaburi, Nakhon Pathom, Pathum Thani, Samut Sakhon and Samut Prakan; altogether 114 routes with 7,253 vehicles, including 3,509 BMTA vehicles and 3,744 private vehicles. But today, the number of vehicles in service is declining. According to the latest BMTA report (June 2014), there were only 5,226 vehicles in service, including 2,526 from the BMTA and 2,700 private.
 
Outside of the problems of having too few cars in service, traffic accidents also pose a problem. Statistics on cases of traffic accidents from the National Police Headquarters (December 2013) revealed that, within Bangkok, large, public passenger vehicles had 520 accidents between October of 2011 until May of 2013. Data from the Foundation for Consumers identifies 374 incidents, with 512 fatalities and 5,208 injuries. Of these, buses were involved 29 times, with 30 deaths and 100 injuries. 
 
Complaints, as well, are common. Statistics in a 2014 report on bus transportation from the Land Transport Department indicate that the receipt of complaints to the Passenger Control Center’s emergency 1584 number, there were about 7,029 total complaints. The BMTA received 2,003 of these, up 330 from the previous year’s total. The complaints received by the BMTA can be grouped into three basic categories: the first being that the bus did not stop at the appointed stop (768 complaints), the second being that the bus was driven in a frightening manner (609 complaints), and the third being that the bus staff were rude (308 complaints). Within the private bus sector, there were 5,029 complaints, up 811 from the previous year’s total. Within the three categories of complaint, there were 2,161 complaints that the driver drove in a frightening manner, 1,184 complaints that the driver did not stop in the correct place, and 909 complaints that the staff were rude. 
 
Other studies also support these varied kinds of complaints against private buses (both regular and air-conditioned). These complaints (collected between 2010 and 2014) can be divided into five distinct categories, in order, that 1) drivers drove in a frightening manner, 2) the bus did not stop at the appointed stop 3) the staff were rude, 4) passengers were made to exit before the correct stop, and 5) drivers and ticket collectors smoked cigarettes on duty. 
 
Bus Line 8: First in problems
 
Complaint statistics about problems on private bus lines from 1 October, 2013 until 30 September 2014 (collected from emergency phone line 1384) revealed that, amongst private, regular buses, Bus Line 8 (Bang Kapi – Rama I Memorial Bridge) was amongst the top three bus lines receiving complaints for 11 months and received the most complaints for 10 months. On average, Bus Line 8 received about 20 complaints per month.
 
 
Passengers of the 8 line claim vehicles are old, while employees are afraid that they are unfit for service
 
Wirapong Natapatanapong is a student at Kasetsart University and uses the 8 line regularly. He says that “The condition of the buses are old. You can’t open some of the windows. The driver and the ticket collectors scold the customers and don’t care about them or their safety as much as they should. They drive fast - frighteningly fast. They hit the brakes hard and don’t stop at the bus stops. They don’t close the door of the bus and talk on the phone when they should be on duty – this is a problem that has been going on for a long time. And, regarding the complaint box, the lax manner in which this is done shows the thinking of the operators of Bus Line 8 – some of them you can’t even use, they’re so battered.” 
 
Using Bus Line 8, the writer noticed a number of issues along the route. For one, Bus Line 8 confronts traffic jams, as the route goes past a lot of important places, like government sites, tourist sites, BTS stations, and subway stations. Additionally, there are a number of issues on the road itself, such as roadside stalls spilling out onto the street, or private cars, taxis, and vans parking on the street, so that it is impossible for the bus to stop at the bus stop.
 
This video, showing a driver and a ticket collector of Bus Line 8 are yelling at a passenger and forcing the passenger off the bus after the passenger complained of poor service. (See 0.28)
 
The broadcast on social media of this video, showing drivers and ticket collectors of Bus Line 8 using impolite language and forcing passengers off the bus, was a reason for the Ministry of Transportation to open a special investigation into Bus Line 8. The issue of service problems on Bus Line 8 had already been popular in mainstream media. But this video reinforced the impression that there was a problem with the service along Bus Line 8, along with a popularly-shared image of people packing into the bus until the wheels lifted off of the road, or a case where Bus Line 8 struck and killed a 13-year old bicyclist. In this last case, even though the driver of the bus was not found to be directly responsible, it later emerged that he did not yet have a driver’s license valid for public buses. He had been working only three weeks, and was still in the process of changing his license from an ordinary one to one valid for buses. Normally such a driver wouldn’t be working, but on the weekend there were simply too few drivers. 
 
This case became widely cited, and it led to Bus Line 8 becoming a key point of criticism and investigation from the online community and infamy amongst the general population. But this case in turn led to a greater desire to understand the problematic service conditions of Bus Line 8. With this in mind, this writer interviewed employees of Bus Line 8.
 
Lacking regular pay, employees of Line 8 lack rely upon commissions from ticket sales
 
Somchai (pseudonym), a driver of Line 8, reported that the company paid drivers a daily wage of about 100 baht. In addition to this, they were able to keep a 10 per cent commission on ticket sales. Ticket collectors brought home a daily wage of 50 baht in addition to a five per cent commission. On average, Somchai is able to drive the route about four times a day, selling on average 5,000 – 6,000 tickets per day. This amount has fallen in previous years on account of an increase in other buses in service along Line 8’s route, especially private and air conditioned buses - AC Bus Line 8 (Romklao Housing – King Rama I Memorial Bridge), normally gets the most passengers. 
 
Congested traffic: Employees of Line 8 work 15 hours a day
 
Now, Somchai is beginning to fear that he must work on average 15 hours per day. This time is uncertain, as the time that it takes to travel one route differs depending on a number of factors, including: the condition of the traffic on the roads, the condition of the buses (bus drivers and ticket collector cannot choose on which bus they will work), and the time of departure. These all influence the experience of each bus driver and ticket collector and have an influence on how many hours they daily work. 
 
Bearing a heavy burden, employees still try to avoid lashing out at customers in order to avoid complaints. 
 
Somjai (pseudonym), a ticket collector on Bus Line 8, said, “I am under a lot of pressure from the recent press on service issues. This has led to new training measures from the Department of Land Transportation as well as criticism directly from passengers. I have to be extremely patient in my work, and am now trying to keep from speaking back to passengers in order to avoid risking a complaint.”
 
Chatchat Sitthipan, then Minister of Transport, tested the No 8  Bus service himself. 
 
Chatchat Sithiphan, former Minister of Transportation, uploaded pictures and posts onto his own fanpage (Facebook page: Chatchat Sinthiphan), on the 15 August, 2013, when Chatchat was still the Minister of Transportation and after he had learned of the problematic conditions of service along Bus Line 8. Chatchat said that he had invited those business owners overseeing Bus Line 8 to come together to think about how to correct its problems in both the short and long term. He asked if repairs, extra tolls, or more studies might be needed. The group concluded that there was indeed one pressing issue that needed correction: posting the number of the bus in large letters in order that passengers and the general population would be able to see it more clearly, so that they could mark down the number and make more clear complaints about the service. Additionally, the group recommended that the business owners be more strict with their employees, especially in terms of uniforms, manners of the drivers and ticket collectors, and, finally, they installed a complaint box. 
 
Athit Maikaew, a passenger of Bus Line 8, reported that “I use the Bus Line 8 service regularly. The service on this line has some good points and some bad points, but it all depends on the behavior of the bus driver and ticket collectors”
 
In order to see better the various conditions, problems, and implications for service on Bus Line 8, the author interviewed employees of other bus lines for comparison, especially those lines that travel along the same route, from Romklao Housing, in Eastern Bangkok, – King Rama I Memorial Bridge. 
 
Nongyao Wangthaphan, 48 years old, is a ticket collector on Air-Conditioned Bus Line 8 and has worked there for six years. She receives a monthly salary from the business  and is able to get a commission on tickets according to the rate that the company sets, which means that she has a monthly income as well as a daily one. Drivers and ticket collectors receive about 28,000 baht and 15,000 baht, respectively, each month – a good base salary beneath a good rate of profits so long as one worked hard. Nongyao works on average 10-12 hours per day or more, each hour in the middle of traffic. The company sets very clearly the times for departure and the numbers of trips that the bus makes, and for their part, the vehicles come with GPS and stick to the route strictly. 
Krektchai Khongthong, a passenger of Air-Conditioned Bus Line 8, reports that “I’m satisfied with the service of AC Bus Line 8. The employees are fairly committed to polite service. I changed to taking AC Bus Line 8 instead of the ordinary Bus Line 8 because of the air conditioning – it makes it easier to travel. The conditions of the cars are better, too, and it makes me feel more confident about safety.”
 
Aside from those mentioned above, the author interviewed employees of AC Bus Line 29, from Rangsit Center School – Hua Lamphong, a private, air-conditioned bus that has the highest service issues, receiving 1 out of every 3 complaints within the past 11 months. 
 
Private bus employees make stressful plans in order to pull in passengers 
 
Buses, minibuses and taxis compete for parking spots and passengers at BTS Chatuchak
 
Phaithun Samniangdi, 42 years old, is an employee of AC Bus Line 29. He worries that being a private bus line employee means a high level of everyday stress. He spends time planning and worrying about each trip himself. As having a lot of passengers means that the amount of money that he is able to bring home also increases, he drives fast and tries to close the intervals between himself and vehicles on the same bus line, or other bus lines who drive the same route, or the free buses (paid for by tax money), all in order to get the most passengers from other vehicles onto his own bus.
 
With wages not quite 300, daily profits are also cut if drivers do not drive according to the company’s orders
 
Pangsi Phonok, 48 years old, is a ticket collector on AC Bus Line 29 and has been a bus employee 20 years. She reported that drivers and ticket collectors on her line don’t have a salary from the company. Instead, they receive a sum of about 300 baht per day, but drivers and ticket collectors have to make at least four rounds each day if they are to get the complete sum. If drivers and ticket collectors are unable to make four rounds, they must cut their profits. For instance, for one round, they will receive 75 baht; for two rounds, 150 baht; and for three rounds, 200 baht. In addition to this 300 baht, they are able to collect a special amount for selling over the number of tickets set by the company. For instance, if they sell 8,000 baht worth of tickets, they are able to claim 100 baht. If they sell 9,500 baht worth of tickets, they can claim 150 baht, and so on. Outside of this, they additionally collect a profit per ticket sales every 15 days or one month. For instance, after employees sell 6,500 baht worth of tickets, the driver can collect four per cent of subsequent sales and the ticket collectors can collect two per cent each. So profits slowly increase with ticket sales – each day they sell approximately 8,500 baht worth of tickets.
 
Drivers and ticket collectors can make at most five round trips each day. On average these trips last about 3.5 hours each, meaning that employees work on average about 14 hours per day. Normally, drivers and ticket collectors are able to select one particular bus on which to work, something that allows them some degree of control over the conditions of the bus and the ability to choose their fellow co-workers, except when workers are not able to show up to work or when the bus is under repair. Each day, before the bus leaves on its route, bus drivers must inspect the starting condition of the bus themselves. 
 
What we find here is that the difference in the conditions of employment has an effect upon the number of complaints received. A very clear example of this connection was seen when the author interviewed the employees of Bus Line 45 (Samrong, Samut Prakan – Si Phraya Pier) and Bus Line 522 (Rangsit – Victory Monument), one ordinary BMTA bus and one air-conditioned private bus, in order to see the difference between public and private buses in service.
 
Employee salaries start low, compensation can’t be controlled. The work is hard, many risks
 
Nawaphon Wangsakul, a bus driver on line 45 (Samrong– Si Phraya Pier), reports that he came back to work as a BMTA bus driver not long after he quit his private business. The starting monthly income for a bus driver or ticket collector is very low: only 6,080 baht or 4,880 baht, respectively. The starting daily profits are only 50 baht and 20 baht (respectively), and the overtime costs are 30 and 26 baht per hour (respectively). Profits from ticket sales are one and 0.5 satang per ticket, all told amounting to about 13,000 baht per month. Nawaphon works on average about 14 hours per day, completing about three round trips. In ordinary traffic, he takes about three hours per round trip, but if the traffic is congested, he takes up to seven hours per round trip. Thus, between the varied ticket commissions, his daily work, and the constant risk of accident on the highways, he finds the working life as a bus driver as an uncertain one.
 
Employees of free buses bear a heavy burden of servicing all kinds of passengers
 
Somphong Sribanthao, 42 years old, is a ticket collector on Bus Line 45. She has worked for the bus company for 17 years, and reports that the drivers and ticket collector on tax-funded buses must meet with all kinds of passengers, including the mentally disabled, the handicapped, and others who cannot help themselves and who come to use the free services. Passengers often ride the bus without getting off, urinating and defecating on the seats. Because of the public nature of these buses, employees are unable to deny them service as private bus employees can. 
 
Employees of the BMTA are afraid that their buses are operating at only 60 per cent effectiveness. Private buses cut them off and compete for passengers. They are not as safe as they should be. 
 
Somphong continued, saying that the conditions of the buses entering public service at present are at about 60 per cent of what they should be, as the buses entering service are over 20 years old. The conditions of the buses are a constant obstacle for employees to face, and these poor conditions create unsafe conditions for the passengers as well. Aside from this, the employees face problems from the private buses, taxis, private cars, and delivery trucks that cut them off in traffic or park at bus stops. This in turn prevents buses from picking up or dropping off passengers at the stop and thus creates problems with complaints from passengers. 
 
Employees of BMTA buses have a regular income, while the employees of private buses do not – a much worse system. 
 
Amnuay Phutthasuwan, 57 years old, is a ticket collector on AC Bus Line 522 (Rangsit – Victory Monument). She reports that her income is about 27,000 baht each month, between salary and a five per cent commission on ticket sales. After she sells 4,500 baht worth of tickets, the commission falls to one per cent (the standard commission in the old system). She works on average 14 hours each day and makes at most 2.5 round trips. For employees in this new system, they get a regular salary along with their daily commission and hourly wage.
 
Amnuay has been a bus employee for 30 years for the BMTA. She claims that one can see the difference very clearly between the welfare of those working for the BMTA and those working for private bus lines: the BMTA workers are under a governmental system:  there is a regular salary, one can have leave from work, health care, family support, and retirement. This differs from employees of private bus lines, who do not have a regular income; who, if they do not work, do not get paid; and most of whose money usually comes from commissions on ticket sales, causing them drive fast in order to get the maximum number of passengers. As all of these factors contribute to an increasingly precarity in labor, causes private bus line employees to work more hours than BMTA workers. All of these factors ultimately contribute to the difference in service between BMTA and private bus lines. 
 
 
We can see that the problems for bus employees are connected. For drivers, ticket collectors, workers of BMTA and private lines alike, congested traffic poses one particular problem as it prevents workers from being able to predict how many hours they will work in a day, and causes them to be crammed together in traffic jams more than eight hours per day. Parked vehicles blocking bus stops prevent buses from picking up passengers at marked stops. In addition, problems in service stem from a lack of concern for the welfare of the workers, such as not having a place for workers to rest, shops, bathrooms, etc. The time that the workers spend on board the buses is exhausting: they cannot eat at regular hours, and they are not able to choose the time that they use the restrooms. When they reach the starting and ending point of the route, they still do not have a good place to rest. All of this makes employees have to search for their own means of maintaining their personal comfort, something that takes time away from their work and contributes to health problems (especially digestive problems and muscle problems). 
 
In addition, drivers and ticket collectors from the BMTA and the various private lines all receive different commissions. Some commissions depend upon the length of time each employee has spent working, and others differ by the various agreements set by each company. For the most part, employees of private bus lines do not receive a regular salary, meaning that their income largely rests upon commissions on tickets, something which means that they must try to find the most passengers in order to glean the most profits. 
 
Bus supervisor: employees’ welfare is overlooked, something that leads to accidents for both employees and passengers. 
 
Air Force Squadron Leader Prachub Okfu, the supervisor of the bus hangar of Bus Line 45 (Samrong – Si Phraya Pier), reports that the welfare of the employees is often overlooked. Every day, he uses his own money to purchase water for the drivers and ticket collectors to drink. For Squadron Leader Prachub, at the beginning and end of routes there must be a restroom and enough water to drink for the employees, but now these services are lacking.
 
As he lets the buses out of the gate, he stresses that it is necessary to let them go at proper intervals: neither bunched up too tight nor leaving long intervals between them. Today, the total numbers of buses on line 45 has dropped to 23 (whereas it had been 30) owing to the number of buses undergoing repairs. Now, there are few drivers and ticket collectors, as the burden of this line of work is heavy and the commissions are low, making for a lack of people coming to apply to be drivers or ticket collectors.
 
According to Squadron Leader Prachub, accidents involving buses have various causes. These include: poor conditions of the buses, which often lack critical parts; drivers and ticket collectors who are negligent in their duties; passengers who are not mindful of their own safety (using the phone when they are boarding or exiting the bus, for instance); and the conditions of traffic along the route of travel. To try and minimize these accidents, the company carefully investigates the permits of drivers and ticket collectors before hiring them, and makes sure that these various permits are renewed in a timely manner. Also, employees are given a physical examination before departing on a route, including a check for alcohol levels. They have a transportation inspector as well as a special inspector who looks after workers from the BMTA and vehicles from private companies on the road constantly.
 
Union says hourly employees working too long for too small commissions, something that leads to service problems
 
Chutima Boonchai, the Secretary-General of the Bangkok Transport Worker’s Union, reports that the work-related problems that arise in Bangkok’s transportation sector can be grouped into two categories. The first of these has to do with working overly long hours: many drivers and ticket collectors work over 8 hours a day. But correcting this issue would be quite difficult, because of the often snarled traffic conditions and the poor quality of the buses for service. In turn, these factors especially worry drivers and ticket collectors, creating stress that can cause a lot of health problems. Also, the number of buses on the road has decreased because of the large number of buses under repair, which causes buses to enter public service that are not fully functional – creating unsafe conditions for employees, passengers, and those along the road. Along with the decrease in buses, the number of drivers and ticket collectors has also decreased, as old workers retire and the BMTA does not have sufficient new workers applying. This deficit in turn is largely because the starting salary is low while the workload is heavy. What all of this means is that the BMTA has too few cars in service relative to the needs of the public, and forces those drivers and ticket collectors that are working to work more hours. Finally, those workers that the BMTA does have lack proper toilets and places for drinking water. Chutima said that the Bangkok Transport Worker’s Union has submitted these problems to the BMTA, and is now waiting for the result.
 
Chutima Boonchai, the Secretary-General of the Bangkok Transport Worker’s Union
 
Chutima continued, saying that there still is not a system of welfare for bus employees. If employees are considered important, they should be provided with basic needs: there should be a rest stop at the start and end of a route that has a toilet, drinking water, a store with supplies and food, etc. Currently, employees have to find these things themselves, something that takes away time from their work and adds to their personal expenses. Were the system fair, the numbers of new employees would increase. 
 
Finally, Chutima spoke about the wages that employees rely upon, saying that one can see a clear relationship between these wages and the quality of service. Even though the union considers wages for drivers and ticket collectors to be quite small, employees can rely upon a steady income and as a result try to give the best service to the public. For public employees, wages come out of a mutual agreement amongst union employees and thereby set a standard for service and compensation. But for private bus line employees, this system is lacking, leading to a sense of uncertainty. Compensation amongst private bus line employees rises and falls depending on the numbers of tickets sold. If there are many passengers, then employees can collect a high wage - therefore private bus drivers drive fast and aggressively, cutting off other cars, and only stop at bus stops where many potential passengers are waiting., so that they can claim a higher commission and reduce the amount of time that they are working. In this way, it is not that private bus line employees have problems fundamentally different in nature from union employees, but rather they lack a system that they can rely upon. They lack basic welfare – most companies don’t even have insurance for their employees. The responsibility of owning companies and the rules that they establish for vehicle maintenance and the welfare of their employees is quite low, something that is a factor behind many of the accidents, service problems and passenger complaints.
 
Road Safety group points to drivers, cars, and the conditions of the roads as causes of traffic accidents, and proposes to make data available to the public
 
Thanapong Jinwong, the Manager of the Centre for Road Safety Project, reports that road accidents from public vehicles arise from three main causes. The first of these lies with the drivers: drivers drive too quickly, are exhausted, they hug the right side of the road, and they pass other vehicles too closely. Secondly, some vehicles have been modified to pack in more passengers than is safe. And lastly, on the road there are 85 roads that have not been investigated for safe infrastructure – some with a grade of over seven per cent, (linked up, these roads would stretch over three km). These all have a bearing on the duties of the drivers, including commissions given per round trip or numbers of passengers, and the safety of the vehicles that they are given to drive (managers mostly have only on average one to two vehicles, thus decreasing their readiness for safety). The basis of bus accidents stems from these, from drivers who drive too quickly, other drivers who park in the middle of the road and at the bus stops, and having vehicles that are not up to the basic standards of service.
 
To decrease the number of accidents, Thanapong suggested that the Ministry of Transportation work more closely with the BMTA union in order to increase the efficiency of issuing licenses to work on public transportation. As for private bus lines, Thanapong would work on improving the system of management, establishing clear standards of responsibility for repeated problems. Finally, he suggests that the Ministry of Transportation should collect and make public data on each quarter in order to raise public concern and awareness and thereby have public help in creating these systems of standards. This database would have both drivers’ and managers’ records, thus improving the issuance of permits and making a better system minimizing risk. 
 
Labor researchers and employees of private buses work together to improve working conditions
 
A BMTA bus. The blue banner reads "Free bus from the people's taxes"
 
 
The Women and Men Progressive Movement Foundation recently conducted an investigation of the lives and work of female employees in the BMTA, collecting data from 761 women’s employee groups within the BMTA and on routes in 8 districts between 1 December 2013 until 31 January 2014. They found that female employees often had issues relating to family care: 334 women surveyed were the sole caretakers of a family, and 466 women surveyed were indebted for more than 100,000 baht. Over 90 per cent of female employees experienced some of the following: stress from being in traffic jams for most of the day, exhaustion, muscle inflammation or weakness, and working too-long hours without rest. 80 per cent of employees experienced issues related to holding back urine, including kidney stones, excretory problems, or urinary infections. 70 per cent of employees reported a variety of problems, including: problems with superiors; sexual harassment; unwelcome teasing or other problems with co-workers; arranging inappropriate schedules; stress from work; gastrointestinal problems, etc. 50 per cent of drivers reported back pain from driving for too-long periods of time. 40 per cent of employees experienced a traffic accident or reported pinched nerves from uncomfortable seats, and 28.4 per cent reported wearing adult diapers because of the lack of availability of toilets. 
 
Jaded Chaowilai, the director of the Women and Men Progressive Movement Foundation and the researcher behind the above study, reports that the base costs of hiring and employment at the BMTA are extremely low. This is because of the low minimum wage. Ideally, the minimum wage should be enough to support a family, but in capitalist system takes advantage of minimum wage workers, assuming that a minimum wage should only be enough for one person, not a person and their family. For some employees, both women and men, they are the only people working within their family, and must support the entire family with their wages. This makes these employees work harder and harder in order to make additional wages from overtime. This in turn leads to health problems for these employees as well as problems within their families. For women, if they must work late, this also presents a safety problem in travelling back home, as they risk sexual assault. 
 
Jaded continued, saying that the case of hiring conditions for both the BMTA and private companies, where employees did not bring home the minimum wage of 300 baht per day, formed a natural point of comparison. The low wages in private companies meant that employees had to work overtime, clearly showing that they were not earning enough. Jaded asserted that this study showed that there indeed exists a problem that should be addressed. 
 
Bus employees from the BMTA and private bus lines shared many problems. For instance, their long working hours lead to health problems (e.g. urinary tract diseases,  strokes, kidney stones), so much so that some employees must wear diapers to work. Employees of private bus lines do not have any collective organization through which they can voice complaints, study solutions to their problems and find just solutions, or protect their individual rights. This reduces the numbers of employees available and means that the welfare for those employees who do remain with the company does not improve. This is the weakest point in hiring employees for private bus lines, as the owners of private bus businesses continually look for their own benefit, seek to maximize their own profit. Thus, to correct these issues, Jaded argued that his group must investigate the business and hiring practices, and transportation labor unions must help this investigation by calling for the rights of employees of private bus lines. If private bus line employees are taken advantage of in this way, the problems that follow include stressful service and reckless driving. 
 
Jaded concluded that the BMTA – the organization that brings in outside, state-owned businesses that run private bus lines - must look into why their employees are not doing well. They must ask if their employees are being taken advantage of or not. They must see that their employees are working hard for little money, that their working hours are unjustly long, longer than the law allows. Because, if employees of Bus Line 8 made a just hourly wage, they wouldn’t have to work overtime, they wouldn’t have to fight for a larger number of passengers and the commission on their tickets.

 

Localized KFC and Starbucks in Thailand’s restive Deep South

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Decades of insurgency in Pattani, Yala, Narathiwat, and four districts of Songkhla have embroiled the region in violence. A large number of people, especially Chinese business owners, have moved out of the area that used to be the Sultanate of Patani. Economic activity and investment have slowed. According to research jointly conducted by the Southern Border Provinces Administrative Centre and the Commerce Ministry, the Trade and Investment Sentiment Index during May 2013-2015 has consistently been below the average, indicating that investors were not confident in the economic prospects of the Deep South. Moreover, since the latest round of violence erupted 11 years ago, average economic growth in the area slowed from 2004 to 2009, growing at only 1.4 per cent per year, compared to the pre-violence growth rate of 6 per cent per year. 
 
 
Nevertheless, in the past few years cultural events have flourished in the three southernmost provinces. Night markets and festivals, such as the Tadika festival have been reinstated even under the constant threat of violence. Srisomphop Jitphiromsri, assistant professor from the Faculty of Political Science at the Pattani Campus of Prince Songkla University, says that these night markets and festivals allow locals to have a public cultural space where they can be relaxed and happy. It is a space in the sense that people can feel safe and relieve stress there, says Srisomphop. “Violent perpetrators realize the importance of such ‘neutral’ areas where people can socialize and exchange opinions. The state should realize this, and continue to support such spaces as well.”
 
Not just festivals, but halal food businesses in general have also started a resurgence in Patani, especially creative enterprises such as restaurants that allow Pattani locals to access new cuisines. Critics say that locals in the area need a thriving economic landscape, especially after living in such a tense political atmosphere of slowed economic growth, which gave birth to few malls and trendy restaurants.
 
This article will dive into two extremely popular restaurants owned by young Malay Muslims, Bagus Chicken and In-t-af Coffee and Gallery, both located in Muang district, Pattani province. These restaurants fuse local Pattani and Islamic culture with international tastes to create very interesting results. 
 
Bagus Chicken, at the Patani Clock Tower
 
At a quick glance, you might dismiss this shop as another branch of KFC. In fact, it’s Bagus Chicken, a Halal Western food establishment in Pattani. 3-storeyed Bagus Chicken has been open in front of the Clock Tower for four years now. It’s so famous within the three southernmost provinces region that people flock from Narathiwat and Yala just to eat here. 
 
Since the three southernmost provinces are predominantly Muslim, it is important for locals to get Halal food from sources where they trust their food preparers. 
 
“Bagus” [baah-goose] means “excellent” in Malay. Bagus Chicken is run by husband and wife Muhammad Dumeedae and Rohani Puteh. The Pattani couple do not have any culinary background. Muhammad was a bank employee who lived in Bangkok for eight years, while Rohani is a Malay language lecturer at PSU’s Pattani campus who finished her Master’s degree in Malaysia. 
 
Bagus Chicken in original and spicy flavours
 
Muhammad was bored working at the bank, so he took classes on frying chicken in his spare time. He opened a fried chicken shop behind the campus, but the location was not ideal and he had to close down. Later, after he married Rohani, she noticed that he still had his chicken frying equipment, and encouraged him to open another shop, this time at the Pattani Clock Tower. Bagus Chicken sells well, since there are no KFC branches the three southernmost provinces. Even if there was, KFC does not serve Halal food.
 
The couple do not see the main goal of their chicken shop as profit, but business for the Muslim community, as part of their role as good Muslims. “It’s our job to be responsible to society. After we die, Allah will stand in judgement of us. We will be able to answer fully that we have benefitted society. When we opened the shop, we really didn’t think about profit, but that we had at least created some new food options for Muslims in the three provinces.”
 
Bagus Chicken sells steak, spaghetti, and other kinds of Western food in addition to its different types of fried chicken, similar to a certain fast food chain.
 
Bagus Chicken, filled with customers in the evening
 
After Bagus Chicken opened, the quality of the food drew so many customers that the shop was always full, so the couple rented a three-storey building for the shop. The bottom two floors are for Bagus Chicken, and they plan to use the third floor as a community radio station. 
 
Rohani says that business is very good, especially during holiday seasons such as New Year’s, the days leading up to Ramadan, and Children’s Day. Since there are so many customers and the shop is constantly full, over 30 employees work at Bagus Chicken. People line up and wait for their chicken in over 10 long queues. Bagus Chicken sells up to 280 kg of chicken on busy days, and around 100 kg on regular days. 
 
The author travelled to Pattani to try Bagus Chicken’s fried chicken and spicy popcorn chicken. The chicken’s crunchy skin and juicy flesh made it very delicious. It is not hard for the author to see why the shop is so popular. 
 
Rohani (middle) looks on as the author (right) tries the fried chicken as well as the spicy popcorn chicken.
 
One of the factors that make Bagus Chicken so popular in the 3 southernmost provinces is because customers can be sure that their food is 100 per cent Halal. Another is the successful localization of Western food to the community.
 
“At the old shop, the decor was retro and people assumed that ‘Bagus’ wasn’t Malay, so they read Bagus like English [bay-gus]. After we moved the shop here, we tried to show our locality in the decor. The shop’s name is written in both Yawi (the Malay alphabet used in the three southern provinces), Thai and English, so that Malay customers feel more familiar to the shop. They feel like the shop is for them,” said Rohani. 
 
Signs in Bagus Chicken are written in Malay, English, and Thai
 
Once, a foreigner came to Bagus, asking for the dish that would express the quintessential Patani identity. “I told him that we didn’t have one,” said Rohani. “I was confused, and thought about what kind of food Bagus was.” Rohani is currently developing her menu to show more Patani locality. She experimented with a chicken burger with Melayu Golek source, but did not add it to the shop menu since the flavours weren’t just right yet.
 
With a shop this popular, of course people have contacted the couple about expanding their shop into a franchise. However, the husband and wife are not interested in this yet.
 
Signs in Bagus Chicken are written in Malay, English, and Thai
 
“We’re not expanding Bagus into a franchise yet because we’re living according to Amanah. In Islam, Amanah is having responsibility to our duty. If we expand to a franchise, then we have to follow up with the buyer and see that he is keeping up the food quality. Otherwise, we will sin against Amanah,” said the 30-year-old lecturer. Muhammad added, “I see running a restaurant as an art. Expanding into a franchise would be a business way of thinking.”
 
Even though the couple do not have plans to create a Bagus Chicken franchise, they are expanding into a very rarely-seen section of the Halal food world: making Halal sushi.
 
Bagushi is popular among Malay Muslims who want to try new Halal foods. Picture courtesy of Bagushi’s Facebook page.
 
“Our goal is to increase food options for fellow Muslims. We’ve already made a fried chicken shop, so now we are setting up another shop that fulfils needs that are currently unmet for the Muslim community,” said Muhammad.
 
For Bangkokians, Japanese food is available at many price levels and options. Many Malay Muslims, however, have never tried Japanese food—especially sushi. Few Halal Japanese restaurants exist. Additionally, since sushi mostly includes raw fish, some food preparation methods could easily render the sushi non-Halal.
 
The couple opened Bagushi, a Halal Japanese restaurant that has a Shabu Shabu menu, as well as a sushi bar. Bagushi is located at Tesco Lotus in Jana district, Songkhla province. Like Bagus, Bagushi has been well-received by the Muslim community, especially after having opened only at the beginning of this year. 
 
The author, who is a big fan of sushi, did not have a chance to try Bagushi. Muhammad said that a dish of salmon sashimi, priced at 99 baht, is Norwegian salmon purchased from Makro. However, this menu is not so popular, since his Malay Muslim customers are not so familiar with eating raw food. Muhammad says that many customers, after ordering raw fish, send it back and ask him to torch the fish.
 
Before opening Bagushi, the couple tried out Halal sushi in Chiang Mai and Malaysia and researched the process of making Halal sushi. They noted points during the cooking process that could easily become non-Halal. They sent some employees at Bagus Chicken to learn how to make sushi in order to staff Bagushi.
 
The non-Halal part of sushi is mirin, said Rohani. Mirin is rice wine, and an important element of sushi that gives the rice a slightly sour taste. Mirin that is fermented for too long may produce alcohol, which is not Halal. “We had to change the recipe of mirin by contacting the factory, asking them not to ferment it till the alcohol level rises.” 
 

Creative Halal food options for Pattani locals

 
Muhammad said that he is always looking for new ideas for Halal restaurants for the three southernmost provinces. Muhammand and Rohani often travel to Bangkok to survey popular restaurants, especially those located in malls. For example, if they want to survey pizza shops, they look at Pizza Hut; for coffee shops, Starbucks; for Shabu restaurants, Shabushi; for Japanese restaurants, Yayoi; for steakhouses, Sizzler, and so on.
 
Since these restaurants are not Halal, the couple go in and order drinks while surveying the restaurant. To taste these types of food, they go to Malaysia. 
 
A bento box from Bagushi. Picture courtesy of Bagushi’s Facebook page.
 
“The market potential for Halal dining is huge,” says Muhammad. “Most Muslims are situated at the ‘river mouth.’ By that, I mean that we are often in the restaurant business. The ‘river source’ is getting raw food material, while the ‘river body’ is cooking ingredients to use in food preparation.” 
 
Muhammad is planning to make a brand of Halal ingredients and sauces, such as Halal shoyu. This brand would allow other Muslim restaurateurs to easily make new types of Halal cuisine. 
 
When asked about future plans, Muhammad said that he wants to make an east-meets-west fusion restaurant, similar to “On The Table,” a popular Italian-Japanese restaurant in Bangkok. Rohani, being a university lecturer, wants to make a 24-hour cafe similar to “Too Fast To Sleep,” situated next to Chulalongkorn University. At “Too Fast,” students and patrons can study, work, and tutor each other without regard for time. However, with the violence in the region that usually happens at night, Rohani realizes that she will have to put her dream project on hold first. 
 

Hipster teahouse in the land of philosophers

 
The teahouse is part of the Melayu social life. Locals, mostly men, frequent their village tea shop. The patrons and the shopkeeper all know each other. They discuss politics, social issues, and the news over tea, coffee, and roti. The Patani teahouse can be classified as a public sphere, a place where, according to theorist Habermas, locals can exchange their views on social issues. Therefore, part of the political awareness in the three southernmost provinces can be attributed to the local “tea culture.” The voter turnout in 2011 was 77.48 per cent, higher than the national average of 75.03 per cent. 
 
However, one “hipster” Patani teahouse has emerged, set up by a group of young men who have worked and studied in Bangkok’s most fashionable district. . 
 
In-t-af in the evening. Picture courtesy of In-t-af’s Facebook page.
 
“In-t-af,” an anagram of Fatoni, the Arab name of Patani, is a teahouse with the theme of nostalgia for a peaceful Patani.  
 
Arzeezee Yeejehwae, one of In-t-af’s owners and an architect graduate from Rajamangkala University of Technology, located beside Chulalongkorn University on Phya Thai Road, speaks about the inspiration behind the teahouse. “We all grew up here. I was reading the history of Patani one day, and encountered the name ‘Fatoni.’ It has a good meaning too, meaning land of philosophers. I wanted to convey the identity of Patani in the shop, but using ‘Fatoni’ or ‘Patani’ outright sounds too nationalistic, so I added some playful tricks to the name, creating In-t-af.” 
 
The founders, four Malay architects, chose to build In-t-af in the old section of the city because they love the east-meets-west architecture there, strongly influenced by the architecture of British Malaya. At first, the architects wanted to open a gallery and a design firm, but decided that a cafe would fare better economically.
 
The outdoor part of In-t-af, next to the Pattani River. Picture courtesy of In-t-af’s Facebook page.
 
In-t-af is located in a two-storey townhouse. The first floor is for clients to drink tea, and even has a balcony overlooking the Pattani River. The second floor is a prayer room. The four architects decided to decorate the teahouse according to the Japanese aesthetic principle of wabi-sabi, with exposed, unpaved concrete, showing the beauty of the imperfect of the building materials. Not everyone appreciates this minimalist, bare style though. 
 
“When we first opened the shop, many customers thought we hadn’t finished construction,” laughed Arzeezee.
 
The architects, owing to their gallery-hopping tendencies in Bangkok, managed to include a gallery corner in the cafe for customers to view art while sipping their coffee.
 
Arzeezee says that it took one year to build and decorate In-t-af, since they started with this space.
 
“We wanted fine art to be accessible to the locals, not see it as an elites-only kind of thing. Everyday, familiar things can be art too, like the ponoh [traditional Islamic school].” 
 
A black-and-white photoset of a ponoh, by Amphanee Satoh. This is the first set of art displayed at In-t-af.
 
Ponoh is a school, a religious site, and the spiritual centre of the community. These photos show the beauty of past ponohs. We wanted to convey this to the dissidents, for them to consider what they’re doing, and to rethink the role of ponoh in society. In the past, it was devoid of violence,” said Arzeezee.
 
The black-and-white photoset of ponohs by Amphanee Satoh. Picture courtesy of In-t-af’s Facebook page.
 
In-t-af has the feeling of an urban coffee shop rather than a rural teahouse. Customers include Thai Buddhists, Thai Chinese, and Muslim Malays. Most patrons are young people, both students and working people, and are of both sexes. The shopkeeper does not know everyone by name, but it is still more of a meeting place for friends, in contrast to Bangkokian cafes, where visitors are often isolated from each other. 
 
Asked what the old generation think of In-t-af, Arzeezee smiled and said "Some of them feel awkward to come and sit here, a modern tea shop."

The fires of youthful entrepreneurs amid the fires of violence

 
Rohani of Bagus Chicken told the author that only a few months after moving to the three-storey building, a bomb exploded at a gas station only about a hundred meters away. It was one of the 33 bombs detonated in 2014. The bomb was deafeningly loud, and the lights went off in the whole shop. For the customers’ safety, they decided to shut the doors, keeping the customers there. “Our customers were so great that night. We lighted candles for them, and they just kept eating chicken.” That night, all of the customers ate for free. 
 
A military officer stands guard in front of Bagus Chicken, since bombs have been detonated before across the street and in a nearby soi
 
“Since we opened shop, we’ve never felt safe in the area,” said Rohani. “Still, we believe our good intentions protect us. Living in such a high-pressure area full of conflict and violence is hard for everyone. Getting to eat some good food helps to relieve some stress and make life better.” 
 
As for the owner of In-t-af, he said that he isn’t too concerned about the violence affecting his business, since life must go on for him anyway.
 
Arzeezee added that before he opened, a lot of people told him that the area he was going to open shop was a Thai Chinese area, and that Malay customers would not come. “My shop is able to draw Malay Muslims, of course. It’s not necessary that my shop has to be in a Muslim neighbourhood,” said the 34 year old architect. “I’m Muslim, and I’m opening shop in a Chinese neighbourhood to show everyone that we can all live together.”
 
The proprietors of both shops agree that the chronic violence in the area is an incentive for Patani locals to create something that changes society, and in doing so, stand up for themselves. 
 

Rubber price is everything to the Deep South

 
Abdulkorday Yusoh, a member of Federation of Deep South’s Melayu businessmen and director of Siroros Hospital in Yala’s Muang District, however, said that the flourishing of restaurants in the provinces is not an indicator of a recovering economy. In fact, most of the restaurants open because people failed to get jobs in other sectors.  
 
“The restaurants and clothing businesses are booming because the rubber price is down. When people don’t know what to do, they open a clothing shop or a restaurant or mobile phone shop. They look like an easy business with low risk, but actually they’re not. There’s limited purchasing power in the Deep South. They may look OK at first but I’m not sure about in the long run.” Abdulkorday still admires the young entrepreneurs who have brought new types of business and tastes to Patani people. But he casts some doubt that the new creative types of restaurants may not survive in the long run since the food served are not common dishes for Patanians.  
 
He said the economics of the three southernmost provinces, especially Yala, which is landlocked, is highly dependent on the rubber price.
 
“When rubber prices drop, people spend less money and therefore buy less. All businesses are in the self-support mode.”
 
Because of the violence, there is very little investment, industry and tourism. Therefore, the unemployment rate is high. 
 
Nevertheless, the Siroros Hospital director said the health business sees some future. “When the rubber price soared, the rubber farmers went to private hospitals. Now the price has dropped, but they still want to get same kind of service they received from the private hospitals. The insurance business comes in and this makes the private hospitals grow.”
 
Since there are few tourists due to the violence, the main source of income of hotels and resorts in the restive South is from seminars and conferences held by organizations, especially state agencies, said Abdulkorday, who also oversees a hotel business in Songkhla Province. 
 
The violence in the past 11 years has changed the faces of businessmen in some sectors. The obvious one is in the construction business. Muslim Malay companies are slowly replacing the Thai-Chinese because the Thai-Chinese entrepreneurs feel unsafe about taking on construction projects in unfamiliar rural areas. 
 
Translated into English by Asaree Thaitrakulpanich 
 
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Story of Sasiwimon: Mother of two given 28 years by military court

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In two separate cases, military courts on 7 August handed down the harshest Article 112 (lèse-majesté) sentences yet.  That morning, the Bangkok court slapped a man, Phongsaks S., with 60 years in prison, reduced to 30 in consideration of his confession. That afternoon, the provincial military court in Chiang Mai ordered a young mother, Ssiwimon, (surnames withheld to maintain privacy) to serve 56 years in prison, reduced to 28 due to her confession.
 
Both prosecutions were based on multiple Facebook posts and both defendants chose to plead guilty rather than to contest the charges at trial. Occurring in the North, Sasiwimon’s case has not received much media attention and unlike Pongsak’s her case did not involve explicitly political expression, but arose from a personal dispute. The full truth of the affair has not yet come to light, but armed with the confession, the court came down with an extremely harsh sentence.
 
Thai Lawyers for Human Rights (TLHR) has monitored the case from the time it was submitted to the court and the defendant engaged a defense attorney. Following the judgment, TLHR reviewed the case and spoke with the defendant and her family. Though Sasiwimon initially denied any wrongdoing, she changed her plea to guilty in the final stage of the process. The following is based on information collected by TLHR.
 
Mother of two
 
Sasiwimon, 29, of Chiang Mai worked at a hotel beverage counter serving tea, coffee and other beverages. Her mother originated in Kamphaeng Phet but moved to Chiang Mai after marriage to Sasiwimon’s father. The couple later separated and she raised Sasiwimon, her only daughter, as a single mother.
 
Sasiwimon completed high school through passing adult education examinations and worked in a restaurant promoting beer sales (also known as a “beer girl”) before taking the job serving beverages in the hotel. She married a laborer and had two daughters with him, now 10 and seven and in fourth and second grade in a Chiang Mai school.
 
Her husband eventually took a new wife and the two divorced with Sasiwimon maintaining custody of the children. At some point before this case arose, the Court ordered the husband to pay 3,000 baht a month in child support until the youngest had completed school. The husband gave no assistance in raising the children beyond the ordered child support.
 
Before her arrest, Sasiwimon was living in a rented home with her daughters and 48 year old mother. Her mother worked as a housekeeper at the same hotel as Sasiwimon, and both earned 9,000 baht a month. The mother has a chronic illness and must take regular medication and Sasiwimon acted as head of household, caring for all four persons.
 
She and her family confirm that she was not involved in politics and had never participated in political rallies of any kind.
 
A personal dispute leads to a criminal case
 
The story begins 27 September 2014 when a group calling itself “Facebook Chiang Mai”, led by Rit Yiammethakon along with eight others, arrived at a Chiang Mai police station to accuse a Facebook user under the name “Rungnapa Kampichai” of posting materials violating Article 112 on Facebook. They bullied her by circulating photos from Rungnapa Facebook account and personal information for her to be condemned.
 
On the 29 September, members of Facebook Chiang Mai gave testimony to an investigator and held signs calling for rapid prosecution. It was reported that Rungnapa Kampichai contacted Facebook Chiang Mai claiming that she had not posted the offending materials but that she was the victim of slander by someone fraudulently using her name. It is known that at the time Rungnapa informed authorities of who she believed had fraudulently used her name for the Facebook account then there is no news of how the case proceeded or of how Sasiwimon protected herself over the subsequent months.
 
Sasiwimon says that Rungnapa is her former husband’s new wife and that they had fought in the past. She says that an acquaintance from her days as a beer girl suggested spreading malicious information on the woman and volunteered to do it for her as a revenge. The friend used her computer to create a new email account and a Facebook account under Rungnapa’s name. Sasiwimon says she did not know that her friend would post materials in violation of Article 112. She claims that she never posted anything under that name; she doesn’t know the account password and she is now unable to contact the friend.
 
Pressure to confess
 
Towards the end of September of 2014, a plainclothes police officer came to her home at six in the morning. The children had not yet risen and her mother had just gone to work. The police officer had a search warrant and told her it had to do with a lèse-majesté investigation. She did not realize that she herself was under suspicion until the officer took a computer and two mobile phones for investigation.
 
She was asked to go the police station, and since there was no one to look after the children she brought the youngest with her. She was questioned by two investigators who showed her images taken from a computer screen. At first, she denied having made the posts, but the responding officer suggested that if she acknowledged the posts there would be no serious repercussions; they would let her go and could use their positions as police officers to assist her in the future.
 
She acknowledged the posts, not knowing the seriousness of Article 112 violations. She had never before had dealings with the authorities or had had to go to the police station and knew nothing of the process. That, together with the pressure of circumstances, including the fact that the daughter she had brought along was unwell and that her employer was calling repeatedly for her to come to work, made her eager to end the ordeal. She felt that if she said whatever would end the questioning she would be able to go about her affairs. She did not think about the possibility of prison. In the end, she confessed to the investigators with no attorney present and was allowed to return home.
 
In October, the police contacted Sasiwimon to ask for an interview with her mother at the station. The mother says that the police asked in general whether she had seen her daughter on the computer, what she did on the computer and when. They asked whether her daughter went to bed late. She answered that she had seen her daughter watch movies on the computer with her granddaughters and that she knew nothing beyond that.
 
There were no immediate further developments and Sasiwimon did not imagine that the case would end with her going to prison. She made no effort to go into hiding.
 
Then, in February of 2015 when she and her mother were at a funeral for her grandfather in Kamphaeng Phet, the police phoned and directed her to sign some documents at the police station. She made an appointment to report on February 13.
 
At the station, she was informed that she was accused of violating Article 112 with six Facebook posts under the name of Rungnapa Kamphichai. The same day she was sent to the military court jail, having made no advance preparations. Her mother went to a bail bondsman and offered bail of 400,000 baht but the Court denied bail, citing fears that she would flee. Sasiwimon was then remanded to the Chiang Mai Women’s Prison. Her mother offered bail two more times, increasing the amount to 450,000 baht, but each time Court denied bail.
 
After two weeks, Sasiwimon was informed of an additional count of lèse-majesté for a post made in September 2014. She was now facing seven counts of violating Article 112. Her pre-charge detention was renewed seven times before the military prosecutor filed formal charges with the court on 7 May, the last day of the allowed pre-charge detention period.
 
The judicial process: pursuit of truth derailed
 
Sasiwimon’s mother engaged a lawyer from a Chiang Mai firm to assist in the case and Sasiwimon told the lawyer that she did not post the materials. They agreed that she should deny the charges, gaining time to review the evidence and plan a defense. The initial plan was to show that at the time the posts were made she was at work and unable to access the Internet.
 
At a military court hearing in April 2015, she pleaded not guilty to the charges. The case was deemed to involve national security and to have impact on domestic peace and order and the session was accordingly closed, with relatives and others not directly concerned expelled from the courtroom before charges were read and testimony sought.
 
The following month, the parties to the case met to review the evidence and submit lists of witnesses. The defending attorney examined the prosecutor’s documentary evidence and the Court questioned the parties on their approach to the case. The prosecuting attorney said that he would submit witnesses, documents and materials showing that the defendant was guilty. The defending attorney said that he would seek to identify the actual perpetrator and show that the prosecutor’s evidence was insufficient to prove that the defendant was guilty of the charges.
 
Relatives and other observers were permitted at this session as it involved only a preliminary review of evidence. They would not be permitted to attend the actual trial when the evidence would be opened and examined in detail.
 
Prior to the trial, the defense lawyer advised his client to change her plea to guilty. Having examined the evidence he saw very little room left to fight the charges. The fact that she had confessed during the initial investigation and signed various documents made the evidence against her that much more incriminating. If they contested the charges and lost, the court might impose a more severe sentence and he said that he would petition the court for a suspended, delayed or light sentence and that she could later request a royal pardon. 
 
At first, Sasiwimon’s mother was unsure that a guilty plea was a good idea given that her daughter said that she had not committed the crime. But Sasiwimon told her that the punishment would not likely be harsh and she felt sorry for her mother for having to take care of everything. The mother did not imagine that the punishment would be as harsh as it turned out to be.
 
In the end Sasiwimon decided to change her plea to guilty.
 
We don’t know whether or not Ms Sasiwimon’s story is true, who posted the material in question or how the case would have turned out under the full Article 112 process. Holding the suspect without bail created a situation pressuring her to confess guilt rather than to contest the charges at trial. As a result, the evidence was never subjected to the scrutiny of the Court and its validity has not been determined.
 
28 years for a 29 year old mother
 
No one expected the Court to pass immediate judgment the day she changed her plea, and her attorney sent a legal assistant in his place. The assistant received clearance to attend the secret proceedings and authority to submit the changed plea and confession that morning before the proceedings. It was expected that the judge would set a court date the following month, giving the Court time to consider the plea and confession and to write a judgment. However, that’s not what happened.
 
The prison delivered Sasiwimon to the court late that day, causing relatives who had come to give encouragement to wait from the morning. The police witnesses arrived at the designated time and court officials knew only that morning that there would be a plea change.
 
In the afternoon, after reading out the process relative to canceling the examination of evidence and requesting testimony from the defendant, the Court immediately delivered judgment. The Court read out the charges, skipping some for the expressed reason that it would be improper to read them out loud. Confession in hand, the Court pronounced the defendant guilty under Criminal Law, Article 112.
 
The Court then sentenced the defendant to eight years prison on each charge, for a total of 56 years reduced to 28 in light of the confession and its usefulness to the Court. 
 
Along with the confession, the attorney had submitted a petition for a light, suspended or delayed sentence. The petition cited the dependence of her family, including her mother and two daughters, on the defendant alone, the fact that the defendant pursues an honest livelihood, had never previously committed a criminal offense and had never caused hardship or loss to anyone or to society. Documents with details on the family and evidence of good character were attached.
 
The Courts response to the petition was, “Defense has petitioned for a light, delayed or suspended sentence. Defendant has committed a crime against the institution of the monarchy. The monarchy is respected and worshiped by the people and defendant’s actions therefore seriously offend the sensibilities of the people. The sentence we have handed down is already light given the gravity of the offense. Petition denied.”
 
A young mother of 29 was thus sentenced to 28 years in prison. Her sobs filled the military courtroom. It was 7 August 2015.
 
After the judgment
 
As the case followed its course, Sasiwimon remained incarcerated and her mother tried to help from the outside, borrowing money to hire a lawyer and to raise bail. She says that she expended nearly 100,000 baht, borrowing from relatives, pawning jewelry and taking out a loan against the motorcycle.
 
From the time Sasiwimon was incarcerated, the mother has had to care for her two granddaughters on only her own income. After rent, utilities, loan payments and school expenses for the two girls there is very little left for food and other necessities. That doesn’t even include tuition for the two girls or prison expenses for Sasiwimon. Most of her relatives also live hand to mouth and lack resources: she has to fend for herself. Fortunately, her friends at work understand her situation.
 
The mother goes to work at 6:30 in the morning every day but Saturday. She takes the girls to school on the motorcycle early in the morning before going to work. She gets off at 3:30 and picks up the girls. Sasiwimon used to take the girls to and from school. She works Sundays and must leave the girls at home alone, talking with them occasionally by telephone.
 
On certain days, she leaves work before noon to visit Sasiwimon in prison. 
 
When she learned of the sentence, the mother couldn’t believe something like this could happen to her family. She doesn’t understand how the punishment can be so harsh, even more than for killing someone. It’s like they don’t want her ever to get up again.
 
Through tears, she said, “I think about... I have a chronic illness... After 28 years, when my daughter gets out of prison, will she still have a mother?”
 
The story was first published on TLHR blog and translated into English by a Prachatai contributor.
 

Lower Sesan 2 Dam jeopardizes lives of millions of Cambodia’s river dwellers

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With an increasing need for energy, the Royal Cambodian Government has spent nearly a billion US dollars on a hydroelectric dam that it claimed was necessary for industry. However, the real social and economic cost of the dam, which will flood an area equivalent to a small province and submerge thousands of families’ houses, might far exceed its construction cost as it might deprive millions of Cambodians of their most important food staple.

A family out fishing in Mekong River close to its confluence with Sesan and Srepok River on a cloudy day in June

It is the beginning of the monsoon season in June and it did not take very long for Thongming a Laotian-Cambodian fisherman, to catch three big fish and made a big feast that could serve about 10 people from his lucky catch. “These days normally we have to spend nearly all day to catch the fish, but it’s been better this time of the year. There seem to be more fish in the river,” said Thongming. For him and his neighbours, natives of Koh Saray, a commune of 20,000 people on an island in the Mekong River in Stung Treng Province of north-eastern Cambodia, the river has been merciful to them this year in allowing many species of Mekong fish to swim easily into their nets. Not far from the island, however, the rumbling of cranes and tractors are constant reminders that their luck might not last long.

In November 2012, the Cambodian government approved a proposal to build a hydroelectric dam in Stung Treng Province in the country’s north-eastern interior. The dam site is situated on the Sesan River, one of the three large tributary rivers in the ‘3S River Basin’ that flows into the Great Mekong: the Sesan, Srepok, and Sekong rivers. The dam is 1.5 km downstream from the confluence of Sesan and Srepok rivers and 25 km from where they meet the Mekong. The 816 million USD project was first proposed as a joint venture between the Cambodian Royal Group and EVN International Joint Stock Company, a Vietnamese state enterprise. However, the Vietnamese counterpart later took a step back and retained 10 per cent of its share while a newcomer, China’s Hydrolancang International Energy, took up a 51 per cent share, with the Royal Group retaining 39 per cent. The dam is currently under construction and the Cambodian government prohibits people from entering the site without permissions. 

According to the Cambodian government, the Lower Sesan 2 Hydroelectric Dam (LS2) project is crucial for meeting the energy demands of the country’s growing industries as well as for lighting houses in rural Cambodia where most inhabitants still depend on kerosene lamps. However, for many civil society workers, environmentalists, and locals whose livelihoods depend on the resources provided by the Sesan River, tapping the river that never goes dry even in the gravest drought could mean kissing good bye to the lives they and their ancestors have known forever.

The temporary rock-filled embankment of the Lower Sesan 2 Dam

Move or be submerged

Once completed, it is estimated that the 75-metre-high LS2 Dam will create a reservoir of about 336 sq km. In other words, the storage dam will submerge an area equivalent to 47,059 football fields, most of which is a forest area in Cambodia’s northeastern hinterland. Along with the forest which will be cleared for timber by the Royal Group before the water rises, the dam will flood Srae Kor Commune on the Sesan River together with Sre Sronok, Kbal Romeas, and Krabei Chrun communes along the Srepok River, displacing nearly 5,000 people from seven villages along the two rivers.

Convinced that the benefits of the dam outstrip its costs, the Cambodian government promised a resettlement plan and compensation packages for the villagers who have to be evacuated. The authorities are offering 50 USD per square meter of the villagers’ land and have built houses in four resettlement locations, two along the road to Ratanakiri Province, an eastern province bordering Vietnam known for its wilderness, and two others in the forest of Stung Treng Province. At first glance, the modern-looking concrete houses built by the government in the resettlement areas seem a decent upgrade from the thatched wooden houses that most villagers occupy. The authorities also promised to supply the resettlement houses with electricity and subsidies for basic commodities, such as rice. However, many people are still determined not to move from their traditional homes.

The map of Lower Sesan 2 Hydroelectric Dam and the area that would be flooded (courtesy of Mekong Watch and 3S Rivers Protection Network)

Like many other villagers, Phavee, a 58-year-old farmer from Srae Kor Commune, has known no other life beyond her commune and the river.  She said that one of the most important things for her is to stay on her ancestral land. “I don’t care about development and will not abandon my ancestral graves no matter what.” Sarakom, from the same village, pointed out that many Srae Kor villagers were tricked by state officials into putting their fingerprints on documents in April 2015 without being fully informed that by doing so, they were giving their consent to the resettlement plan.

“The government offers 1,500 USD per each family grave. However, they kept changing their mind about the offer and have reduced it. No matter what, it’s very strange to say that our ancestral graves could be sold,” said Sarakom.

Fearing that they would have nowhere else to go, 207 families of Srae Kor Commune have accepted the compensation package and resettlement plan while the rest have not yet made up their minds on the matter. Nasuta, a native of Srae Kor Commune, added that the decision whether to move or to stay until the water rises as dam construction forges ahead has split many families apart in the past several months. For Tiankui and Penhna, farmers aged 37 and 21 from Sre Sornok Commune, there is no other choice but to move. They said that most villagers in their commune have agreed to the resettlement plan because the village chiefs in their villages already put their thumbprints on the documents to approve the plan and there is simply no other choice.

From right to left, Sarakom, Nasuta, and Phavee, three elderly natives of Srae Kor Commune on the bank of Sesan River who determined to stay on despite the fact that their villager would be flooded once the dam is completed

According to Meaeh Mean, an anti-dam activist from 3S Rivers Protection Network, the relocation plan would be detrimental to the natives upstream on the Sesan and Srepok rivers. He said that relocation sites are about 25 km from the rivers and that the farmland provided by the government at the relocation sites is far from fertile. “For the villagers whose source of protein comes mainly from fish in the rivers, being locating to a site 25 km away from the river will definitely cause a lot of hardship,” he said. Having been to the relocation sites, the anti-dam activist said that there is also no guarantee that the government will provide electricity for the villagers because the relocation areas are very isolated and no electricity lines could be seen.

 

Depleting fish stocks

In addition to the forced relocation of thousands of villagers, the dam could also put at risk the food security of millions of people along the Mekong River and the 3S River Basin. According to many fish experts and environmentalists, the negative impacts of the LS2 Dam on many fish species of the Mekong might be even worse than any previous dam constructed on the main stem of Mekong River.

The confluence of the Sesan and Srepok rivers is only 25 km upstream of where the two join the Mekong. The two rivers are not only major arteries of the Mekong River Basin, but the main migration routes for many of the region’s unique fish species. Meaeh, an advocate of a dam-free Mekong and 3S Rivers, pointed out that putting up a barrier at the confluence of the Sesan and Srepok which many species of fish have to swim past annually to spawn could significantly reduce numbers or even cause the extinction of certain fish species unique to the region. “Many fish species swim up here all the way from Tonle Sap Lake [the largest freshwater lake of Southeast Asia connected to the Mekong in central Cambodia, which supplies fish to millions of Cambodians]. With the dam, the fish and people who rely on them would both be devastated,” said Meaeh.

Meaeh Mean, an anti-dam activist from 3S Rivers Protection Network, thrillingly shows off the fish that Thongming a Laotian-Cambodian fisherman

According to International Rivers, a think tank which monitors river ecology worldwide, the latest study conducted by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences estimates that the LS2 Dam would cause a 9.3 per cent reduction of fish stocks in the 3S River Basin and might drive about 50 local species of fish to the verge of extinction. Ouch Vibol, an activist from the Culture and Environment Preservation Association of Cambodia (CEPA), said that since fish are one of the most important food staples of people along the basin, a reduction in fish species could jeopardise the main source of protein of millions of people upstream and downstream of the dam as well as local traditions of the region originating from the abundant resources the basin provides.

“If we think of Tonle Sap Lake as the beating heart of Cambodia which sucks in from the Mekong and other tributary rivers and pumps out water to keep the water flowing during the dry season while nursing thousands of fish species before they swim up river, then building a dam on the confluence of the Sesan and Srepok is like cutting the main artery to the heart,” said the CEPA activist. He added that besides reductions of fish numbers, the dam would also affect the flow of sediment in the river, which in the long run could reduce the fertility of farmland along the river and also exacerbate the erosion process.

The lucky catch, a fisherman from one of the Mekong River’s islands lifts out a meal that could feed several members of his family  

Thongming, a Laotian-Cambodian fisherman who lives about 30 km downstream from the dam site, said that unlike in the past where many big fish could easily be caught within a few hours, at present he might get a single big catch after spending the whole day casting his fishing net, if he is lucky. He added that at this time of the year (June 2015), which is when many species of Mekong fish migrate into the Sesan and Srepok, more fish are caught. He suspected that the reason behind the increased catch might be because the fish could not swim up river through the confluence of Sesan and Srepok River as they used to, due to the dam construction, which has already altered the river flow.    

 

Energy for whose benefit?

Despite several ecological and socio-economic drawbacks to the LS2 Dam, the Cambodian government is adamant that the installed capacity of about 400 MW would bring more development to the region. With more energy to feed industry, the authorities claim the dam will create more jobs in the region and that more households would be able to enjoy stable incomes in the industrial sector. However, many people frown upon the government’s suggestion that native people from the area which will be flooded could become industrial workers, because they were given no other alternative in the first place.    

According to Premrudee Daoroung, coordinator of Towards Ecological Recovery and Regional Alliance (TERRA), aka Foundation for Ecological Recovery, an organisation based in Thailand which keeps track of environmental issues in Southeast Asia, native people along the Sesan and Srepok, most of whom are not used to the cash economy, would suffer grave social and economic consequences from the dam. “Some of the native people in the region don’t even speak Cambodian, but their native dialect. So, in comparison, imagine what would happen if people who speak no Thai came to work in factories in Bangkok,” said Premrudee. “To me, the project is totally illegitimate, since I don’t see any benefit that it would bring at all.” She added that the manner in which the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) on the project was approved is also very controversial since the communities that would be affected were never consulted and whole EIA report was never published. In fact, while the Cambodian government promised to improve the EIA process by taking transboundary impacts of the dam into consideration, dam construction is still forging ahead.

Chinese construction workers battling against the rain at work in the rock-filling embankments of the dam where the permanent concrete structure which seems like a flood can be spotted

Meaeh, an environmental defender of the 3S Rivers Protection Network, rejected as empty promises the Cambodian government’s claims that the dam will electrify more houses and might even lower electricity costs in Cambodia’s remote regions. “I think most of the energy produced by the LS2 Dam will be either transmitted to Phnom Penh or sold to Vietnam. The locals who bear the cost of the dam would not really benefit much from it”, said Meaeh. “Currently, only about 24 per cent of Cambodians have access to electricity and the price of electricity in the country is one of the most expensive in the world without any sign that it would go down”.

Ouch, another river defender from CEPA, pointed out that the government’s decision to build the dam in a flat area that would cause massive flooding and soaring construction costs has been very dubious since the beginning. He mentioned one of the primary reasons for constructing the LS2 Dam might not in fact be the need for energy, but the lucrative profits from logging the forest areas that would be flooded. “By building the dam in a dense tropical forest area, the government would already be able to reap massive benefits from logging even before the dam could produce electricity,” said Ouch. “I have also been told by many villagers from the villages upstream that some public officials illegally cut down trees in national parks of Ratanakiri Province beyond the reservoir area and put the logs in the rivers to claim that they are from areas which need to be cleared before the water rises.”

The large cement bridge built besides the dam embankment on top of a bottlenecked stream where the fast-flowing Sesan River has been squeezed

Under the blazing sun of humid June when well-to-do Cambodians were seeking shelter in air-conditioned venues, I accidentally met Saran, a native from Ratanakiri Province, Cambodia’s northeastern frontier famed for its wilderness, at a coffee shop. Speaking some Thai and fluent in English, he passionately told stories about his childhood when he enjoyed spending much of his holiday on Sesan River’s bank fishing and throwing rocks into the river. He said that his beloved home province has changed tremendously in the past decade. “Although much of the area in Ratanakiri is designated as national parks, illegal logging is still very prevalent and the Sesan River is not the same anymore. There are less and less fish in the river since the construction of O Chum 2 Hydroelectric Dam back in the 90s,” said Saran. When asked about Lower Sesan 2 Dam, the Ratanakiri’s native bursted into a sarcastic laugh and said “the government always use the same rhetoric about how our country needs more industries and energy as justification for many development projects, but besides the government themselves and Phnom Penh people, the poor in the countryside is always the one who suffer.”

Lushly forest along the banks of the union of Sesan and Srepok River several kilometers from the confluence of the two where the Lower Sesan 2 Dam construction is ongoing

Investigation into professionalism of Thai sex workers

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Note from editor: At the mention of the Thai sex industry, sexpats may start spouting off about their expertise in establishments at Soi Cowboy, Nana, Patpong, and Pattaya. Much less-publicized, however, is the local sex industry catering to Thais. Prostitution establishments targeted at locals are usually “bathing-sauna-massage” parlours, or “ab ob nuad” in Thai. 
 
Services offered at these bathing-sauna-massage parlours, commonly found on Ratchadaphisek Road in Bangkok, are different from those for foreign tourists. Instead of showy stage shows or exoticized sexual acts, customers at these parlours bathe with the sex workers before intercourse. Sexual services also differ, for example with mouth-to-mouth kissing prohibited by most of the ‘masseuses’. 
 
Having existed for about 50 years, the industry has been part of the sex life of Thai men who go to get ‘special’ experiences with experienced women. The masseuses on the other hand require training and constant upkeep to succeed in a competitive industry. Moreover, just like any other service, masseuses are even reviewed by customers in web forums according to an established grading system. 
 
In the story, solely focuses on the sex workers who voluntarily entered prostitution, the profession is examined through interviews with mo nuad (massage specialists) in a parlour in the northern province of Phitsanulok. The women talk about their motivations for entering the industry, and their work/life separation, their “golden rule” of STD protection, as well as their aspirations for the future after leaving the industry. 
 
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In their book Superfreakonomics, Stephen D Levitt and Stephen J Dubner say that prostitution is an industry where historically women have held power.
 
By power, the authors mean that the sex workers are able to negotiate prices for their services, and that women are more prominent than men in this industry. In the finance industry, in contrast, the number of female administrators is much lower compared to male, as well as their pay. 
 
In her research paper “Prostitutes and Thai State Policy 1868–1960”, Dararat Medtarikanon provided evidence that there has been prostitution in Thailand for at least 653 years, ever since the reign of King Ramathibodi I from 1351 to 1369, and the first recorded mention of prostitution in 1361. In legal records, prostitution was included under martial law. 
 
In present-day Thailand, prostitution is a flourishing industry, with the bathing-sauna-massage parlours being the most successful business model.
 
A bathing-sauna-massage parlour is defined in the fourth draft of the 2003 Health Act published on 31 December 2003 as an establishment that offers massage services but not sexual ones. Prostitution is illegal under the Prostitution Prevention and Suppression Act of 1996, with punishment of up to a month in jail and/or a fine not exceeding 1000 baht.
 
Although prostitution is the oldest profession both in Thailand and worldwide, this career still carries a negative social stigma as being an easy, no-brainer, just-spread-your-legs job that does not require skills or know-how. It is also seen a dirty profession rampant with the chance of contracting STDs.
 
In actuality, however, present-day prostitution is a complex industry where jobs come in many forms. Prostitutes require skills, know-how and career planning just like in other career paths such as medicine, education, journalism and engineering. The writer has not only consulted academics and their research, but conducted interviews with four prostitutes in the industry. 
 
“Poi-sian,” aged 40, used to be a masseuse and nightclub singer before entering the bathing-sauna-massage industry due to its high wages which she can use to support her two siblings and one child.
 
“Khem,” aged 37, used to be an assistant nurse before entering the industry to support her two children from a previous marriage. 
 
“Phikul,” aged 38, is from a higher socioeconomic standing and used to be a businesswoman. However, due to her business failing about a decade ago, as well as her divorce leaving her to support her two children by herself, she started working as a karaoke bar girl in Chiang Mai. Due to the low wages, a friend recommended her to work in the bathing-sauna-massage industry.
 
“Fa,” aged 38, said she is good with maths and used to work at a famous clothing department store. However, the wages were not enough since she had to support her parents, younger sister, and her child from a previous marriage, so she entered the bathing-sauna-massage industry. Her child is currently studying at a higher education institute.
 
All four of these women work in a higher-end establishment located in Phitsanulok province. This establishment has 22 rooms and 30-40 women working there a month.
 

Prostitution = Unskilled, easy job?

 
Most people view prostitution as an unskilled job because they assume the job just calls for sexual intercourse with clients. 
 
Although it’s true that being a prostitute does not require a degree and any woman can enter the industry, for a woman to be considered a professional in the field requires the accumulation of a great deal of skill and experience. In such a competitive field as prostitution, a prostitute needs to establish customer loyalty among clients to create repeat sales. Professional prostitutes also need to strengthen their survival skills, especially when clients are violent or refuse to wear condoms. 
 
“Imagine going into a room with a strange man and he closes the door. A prostitute can use her accumulated skills to get out of violent situations that could arise if an agreement was not reached before. Normal people like us who haven’t attained the skills she has would probably not know how to get out of such a situation,” said Chutimas Suksai, a freelance researcher. 
 
Chutimas states that prostitution is an unobtrusive small business, whose entrepreneurs can be well-off or educated. She states that in fact, she once met a prostitute with a Master’s degree who chose to enter the industry due to its good wages.
 
The woman’s skills determine the prices she can charge, says Chutimas. “The better service and satisfaction she offers, the more negotiating power she has, just like in any other industry. The client has to pay these prices if he wants high-quality services.”
 
Poi-sian said that her secret in winning repeat clients is to build a fantasy of intimacy so that the client feels like she knows them. “I don’t pretend to be their girlfriend, I just act natural around them. I say things like ‘I’ve missed you so much, where have you been?’ and then hug, kiss, squeeze, and massage them. I want my clients to feel like I know, understand, and care about them.” 
 
Each sex worker has different attitudes and opinions towards pleasing clients. Some will do anything for client satisfaction whereas others have limits in what they will do.
 
Khem says she has no limits or restrictions on what she will do, because she wants the client to feel like they got their money’s worth. Her willingness has resulted in a large number of regular clients. 
 
“I can do whatever they want. To me, they’re out on the town, and they come to me to spend their money. It’s their right as a customer, and we’re in this business anyway. Most importantly, my regulars tell me that they don’t want to get business from anywhere else because they feel like I know what they want and how to give it to them, so I can’t just suddenly stop providing.”
 
Phikul added that a natural atmosphere was essential to getting clients to become regulars. She often bathes and gets in bed with clients in an unhurried fashion, but ironically she often finishes her service rounds faster than other workers.
 
“I don’t hurry the clients along, but let whatever comes naturally. For example, one of my regulars loves to take his time in the tub, so I let him touch, grope, squeeze, or press whatever he wants on my body. I set my limits by asking if he’s had enough and if he has, we get into bed. Letting things progress naturally is a sign of my professionalism. Even better, when I let things progress naturally, the client finishes even quicker. Penetrating me just two or three times before finishing is great for me because then I can take on another client and earn more for the night. If I want more tips from that client, I just massage him after he finishes. I get tips, and the client feels like he’s getting really good service.”
 
Even with this “let things progress naturally” attitude, the sex workers keep in mind that the clients are not their lovers, so they let limits on actions that denote love or other actions that might pose a sanitary risk. 
 
For instance, although Poi-sian invests in creating a fantasy of intimacy with her clients, she does not let clients kiss her on the mouth. “If they try to kiss me, I immediately kick them. I can’t stand their stench of their breath or the smell of cigarettes. I don’t see kissing as part of my job description.”
 
Phikul, who places importance on creating a natural atmosphere, also draws the line at kissing. She sees kissing as a sign of love, not something to be done for a bathing-massage client. “Kissing a client means you secretly love the client. I’ve met some flirty, playful clients before who wanted to kiss me. I had to calmly negotiate a refusal for any sort of face kissing. I told them to either go home or choose another girl.”
 
Fa refuses to kiss clients because it shows love, but also due to sanitary concerns. “I don’t even kiss my boyfriend. There are other ways to show love, like hugging, holding onto his arm, looking into his eyes, and showing him how I feel. As for clients, I don’t kiss them because of their smelly breath. Lots of clients are really dirty, but even if they shower I still don’t kiss them. We’re not husband and wife.”
 
 

Servicing the client

 
Due to the large number of establishments, clients and prostitutes in the bathing-sauna-massage industry, both legal and freelance, prostitutes must constantly improve themselves to draw in customers in this competitive field.
 
Web forums and websites that specifically review bathing-sauna-massage establishments are a main factor in developing the industry. Clients review their experience at establishments on these websites, which gather bathing-sauna-massage enthusiasts who exchange tips and opinions. Of course, sex workers also go onto these websites to view feedback on their service for self-improvement.
 
The sex workers cannot always choose their clients, and may often end up with an untidy, rough man. The client, however, is able to view the webboards, look at the reviews on each worker, and choose one who has received good reviews. If a woman receives bad reviews, on the other hand, her flow of clientele often drops. Web forum reviews and word-of-mouth recommendations, therefore, have a large impact on bathing-sauna-massage establishments. 
 
These webboards even have their own code. “Handing in homework” is writing a review right after getting serviced. “Dropping money” means receiving a bad service and feeling disappointed with the money spent, like it has been “dropped”. “Getting change” means getting service so good that the client feels like they “got change” in return after the service. “Jingle-jangle” means the service did not meet expectations, but it was not nearly as bad as “dropping money,” like they got a tiny bit of “change” in return.   
 
Each review is very thorough. Reviewers cover every facet of the experience, from their first step into the establishment, the figure, face, skin, breast size, and colour of the genitals of the prostitute, the sexual techniques used, how caring the woman is in her service, the price, overall satisfaction, and whether they will repeat the experience or not.
 
Each review also has a scoring system based on four factors: “GF,” “body,” “face,” and “service.”
 
“GF,” or “Girlfriend Factor,” is scored based on how much the experience is like being with a girlfriend, as in how happy and satisfied the client feels. 
 
The “Chiang Mai Nightlife Society” webboard (www.cmxseed.com) defines GF as “a feeling of being fulfilled and happy, like you get with a girlfriend. She will have good people skills, flirting and acting naturally with you so you don’t feel like you’re with a stranger. It’s a specific skill that only some nong masseuses have.” GF is scored on “care for clients and good people skills. A high GF score guarantees that she will take care of you as if you were her boyfriend.” 
 
The appearance factors, “body” and “face” amount to half of the overall score. Women with smooth, pale skin are scored higher, and breast size and nipple shade are also important factors. In fact, these webboards have even invented specific vocabulary to describe breasts, such as “lightbulbs,” “headlights,” and “Xenon.” Genitals are also reviewed and categorized on factors of colour, smoothness, and amount of pubic hair. 
 
Points for “service” are given according to how much effort the prostitute put into her sex acts, as well as eroticism. For example, extra points are given for repeated bouts of intercourse or oral sex without the use of a condom (called “fresh sucking” on the web forums). Even more points are given for anal sex (“off roading”) and underwater oral sex in the tub. “Diving” is viewed as a very difficult act that requires a girl with lots of “endurance.” 
 
A score sheet for a masseuse sex worker could look like this:
 
Service 10
 
GF 10
 
Face 8
 
Body 7 (skin neither white nor smooth)
 
This client wrote that he really liked her service because she gave a 100 per cent. She allowed him to have sex several times. She wasn’t picky about hygiene either, performing oral sex on him even before they bathed. He also wrote that her service was so lavish and selfless that she “felt like his girlfriend,” so much so that he would definitely come back for another visit. However, he also said that her breasts were a little too small, and her skin was neither white nor smooth. 
 
Another client wrote in another review that he liked her because she was “white-skinned and thin, like an heiress”, had a familiar way of talking with him, and had beautiful genitals. He also liked her moans and bodily responses to sex. He believed that the sex worker’s responses were genuine. Her vaginal canal was also pleasantly tight, so he felt like he was having sex with a recently deflowered woman.
 
A third client said that he liked how pretty his girl was, since she had a flat stomach, pink, soft nipples, and an overall good physique. She was also willing to let the client touch and lick wherever he wanted with no complaints, which helped to arouse him further. 
 
From this sample of client reviews, we can see that it is very important for a sex worker to take very good care of her appearance. If any sex worker lets herself go, then clients may disappear very quickly. The importance of sexual responses to her client cannot be underestimated. She must make the client feel like she is engaging in genuine, simultaneous arousal.
 
However, from our interviews with sex workers, all of them have stated that “faking it” is essential to their professionalism.
 
Fa says that faking arousal and orgasm is essential, especially when the client has penetrated her since it leaves a strong impression on him, so he is likely to come back for a repeat visit. “Of course I have to fake that I’m aroused with the client. You can’t just lie there wiggling and letting him do everything.”
 
Poi-sian, however, views her “faking it” as indulging in the client’s fantasy that makes him feel like she understands and cares for him. “I don’t think of the client as a boyfriend, but I try to make the atmosphere casual. I don’t think deeply about the client, so I imagine I’m indulging in the client’s fantasy.”
 
Lavishing attention on and making their best efforts for their clients is also important. Any sex worker who does not seem too concerned about hygiene, and indulges in acts like “fresh sucking” receives high points since it arouses the client more than using a condom.
 
Sex workers run a high risk of getting sexually transmitted diseases not only through vaginal sex without a condom, but also through oral sex and swallowing semen. Therefore, there are limits to how much “effort” may be given when servicing a client. Avoiding STDs is a golden rule of sex workers if they want to ensure a long career. 
 

How sex workers protect themselves from STDs

 
Sex work runs high risks of STDs, so the prostitutes have to take precautions so that they may take care of their bodies for a long career, earning money for retirement and for supporting their families. 
 
STDs are usually known to Thais as venereal disease, men’s disease, and women’s disease. STDs are transmitted from one person to another through blood or semen, and are often found among people with multiple sexual partners or those who do not use protection during sex. 
 
To reduce the risk of STDs, one can practise abstinence, reduce the number of sexual partners, or use a condom during intercourse. Of course, in their business, sex workers choose the third option.
 
Suphap Keawgla, specialist nurse at the Office of Public Health in Phitsanulok, explains how masseuse prostitutes protect themselves against STDs. “Due to their job, they can’t be abstinent of course. In each encounter the masseuse must make sure the client uses a condom. Masseuses should also take care of their health by eating a diet full of beneficial fruits and vegetables, and exercising regularly.”
 
Suphap goes on to say that the Office of Public Health in Phitsanulok has also received international funding to develop their STD aid network across 32 provinces. The funding is coordinated by the Bureau of Epidemiology and the Office of Public Health coordinates the network. Phitsanulok has been chosen by the network to enhance management of STDs. Officials go into the field to disseminate knowledge on STDs to sex workers, and give out free condoms every six months. These activities constitute the first stage of the programme. 
 
The second stage of the programme, also implemented, is checking the sex workers for STDs. Any STDs found are immediately treated. Both preventive and curative treatments proceed in the same way, that is, by checking blood samples for HIV and syphilis, and checking urine samples for gonorrhoea. 
 
It costs 2,000 baht to monitor each person participating in the 32 provinces STD prevention program, but the sex workers can get a check-up for free. Sometimes, the Bureau of Epidemiology does not have enough funds so field check-ups are reduced from twice a year to once a year. 
 
“The costs of treating STDs are quite high, so we should focus more on prevention. Compared to treatment of STDs by ordering lab tests of blood and urine, the cost of distributing condoms and STD information is much lower. In fact, the cost of producing a condom is only one baht per condom. For distributing STD information, we don’t even need to hire a specialist because our officers are already experts on STDs,” said Suphap.
 
Poi-sian, who is usually easy-going with her customers, is able to rake in quite a bit of money. However, the one issue she will not budge on is wearing condoms. Some men have even used violence to force her to have sex without a condom. Poi-sian has had to rely on her quick wit to get herself out of such situations. 
 
“There was a customer who didn’t want to wear a condom, he wanted to ‘stick it in fresh.’ I tried to dissuade him but he wouldn’t listen, and grabbed my arm and pushed me down on the bed. I waited for the moment when he was distracted, kicked him off the bed, and ran out of the room. 
 
I always have to think about my survival. I’m not young anymore, and the symptoms [of STDs] will show much clearer than if I’m young. Some clients even offer me more money for unprotected sex, but I tell them that I won’t agree even if they offer me millions. I tell them that money can’t buy me, and they should go find someone else.”
 
Phikul takes great care to take health and safety precautions as a sex worker so she can have a long career and life to take care of her two kids. She says that she makes her client wear a condom even during foreplay, and she isn’t worried if he is dissatisfied about her “golden rule.” 
 
“My clients must wear a condom even during foreplay because it’s a preventative measure for hot-headed guys. If one of them says that they’re allergic to condoms I immediately fire back ‘Then just go home and stick it in your wife ka.’ I don’t worry about being kreng jai to customers or worry that I won’t get repeat customers, since wearing a condom is my golden rule.”
 
Fa says that when clients ask for unprotected sex, she uses rhetoric to convince the man otherwise. “I’ve had some customers who ask me if they can do it without a condom. So I have to use tact, diplomacy, and reasoning to make them rethink their request. For example I can say, ‘Aren’t you scared that I’m infected? I work all day every day and service so many men, not just you.’”
 
Prevention of and protection from STDs, as well as tact in negotiating with customers, are clearly crucial for sex workers. 
 
In the research series HIV and Sex Workers, published in July 2014 on the Lancet, researchers found that sex workers, who run a high risk of HIV and other STDs, are barred from STD care and prevention by the illegal nature of their jobs. The stigma, discrimination, and social, legal, and financial “injustice” against prostitutes makes it more likely that they will contract STDs. 
 
Source: The Lancet
 
Meanwhile in Phitsanulok, sex workers are taking precautions against STDs by using condoms as well as getting regular check-ups at the provincial public health office, a service offered by the 32 provinces network programme. A free STD check-up is offered there every January and June, if funding allows. If not, check-ups are only available in January. Blood samples are tested for HIV, syphilis or HPV. Gynaecological exams are also offered. Urine, semen, and vaginal fluid samples are tested for chlamydia. 
 
The following statistics were gathered by the provincial public health office from female sex workers who went for check-ups in 2013 and 2014 in the 32-province STD aid network. 
 
In 2013, two prostitutes out of the 325 who came for STD check-ups had STDs, or 0.61 per cent. In 2014, 12 out of 255 had STDs. These 12 are divided into two groups: eight are prostitutes new to the business who had contracted syphilis, making a 1.56 per cent out of the 255, and four, or 3.14 per cent, are prostitutes who had contracted HIV. 
 
As you can see, the occurrence of STD in sex workers who participated in the check-up program increased from 2013 to 2014. The number of women infected with HIV increased by two people, and syphilis was found in eight more people. Suphap said that sex workers most likely caught these STDs from their lovers, not their customers. “Masseuses and sex workers always use protection when with their clients, since they don’t want to catch STDs from them.” 
 
The sex workers we interviewed also talked about how they protected themselves from STDs and AIDS by getting check-ups at the public health office.
 
Not only does Fa meticulously use condoms and prohibits kissing with her clients, she also gets a gynaecological exam and a blood test every three or six months. The public health office comes to do health check-ups at the bathing-sauna-massage parlours. The sex workers are called into the check-ups by an assigned number instead of by their names. Free condoms are also given out, but when not enough are given out, Fa purchases condoms herself. “I don’t use condoms that clients bring with them, because they could’ve poked holes in them, and that’s unsafe for me.”
 
Therefore, always having a condom at hand is essential for sex workers, like a pen is for a journalist. That is why free condoms are not always sufficient to meet the demand of the masseuses. 
 
Poi-sian says that the standard condoms given out by the public health office aren’t always appropriate for her clients, who may have larger or smaller penises that the standard condom does not fit. That’s why she uses her own money to buy condoms. “I have to buy the condoms with my own money, of course. I don’t trust the clients who bring their own condoms, since they may be torn. But if the customer opens a new wrapper in front of me, I’m willing to use it, since it saves me from buying one.”
 

Towards the end of a sex worker’s career

 

Careers that depend on looks, like modelling or sex work, start at a young age, such as 16-25, and end when the workers reach an older age. Sex workers of course enter the industry at a young age since it earns them more money than many other jobs, and quit to pursue other jobs as they get older, because clients turn to younger girls. 
 
From our investigation, we have found that many bathing-massage workers quit their jobs after a certain age, and use their savings to start their own businesses. Such businesses include imported Korean cosmetics shops or Thai massage and spa parlours. If they’re “lucky”, a man could help take care of them by pooling funds to open a beauty salon, and the women will live a comfortable life. 
 
“We’ve been doing this for a long while, so we want to rest our bodies and be sabai for once. We’ll have to rely on our luck and our collected merit and money for that, as well as a good man. Being a masseuse isn’t unlucky in itself, but since society doesn’t accept this career, that makes the job more unlucky. But for us, this is a lucky job. We reduce the number of rapes as well as help support other related jobs in the industry, such as bar girls, maids, even the waitresses,” said Poi-sian.
 
Both Phikul and Poi-sian said that they did not plan to work in the sex industry until they were old, but were currently looking for other careers.
 
Phikul said that she was saving up for her retirement from the business. “I’ve been doing this since I was 30 going on 31, as an on-and-off job. This past year is the first one I’ve been doing it as a full-time job. I’m almost 38 now, so I’m saving up to start my own business. My dream is to be a saleswoman for imported Korean cosmetics. That way, I get to use the products as well as sell them, and I want to be beautiful until I’m old. So I could be a rich saleswoman, or I could go and learn how to do Thai massage. I’ve been thinking that I’ll quit this job in three years or so, depending on my savings and funds. When it’s enough, I’ll quit immediately.” 
 
Poi-sian talks about the importance of age in the sex industry. An older body is less likely to be able to make as much, or what the prostitutes call “unable to sell out.” After retirement from this career, Poi-sian wants to start a massage and spa parlour. “I’m getting older, and I’ve saved up some money. I’ve dreamed of taking this money to learn Thai massage, because I want a stable job. Since I’m already in the massage career track, I might as well learn massage seriously since I already have the skills. As for a dream goal, I’d like to open a spa.”
 
Chutimas Suksai, an academic, said that quitting the sex industry does not mean that the sex workers dislike their jobs, but they must “retire” out of necessity since Thai men prefer to have sex with younger women rather than women in their forties.
 

Conclusion

 
Although the sex industry is presently illegal in Thailand, it flourishes because of demand from customers. Sexual urges are normal and human, and the sex workers’ jobs satisfy these urges.
 
The sex industry is very competitive, so the proprietors must continuously improve their technique, knowledge base, and expertise, just like in any other industry. Continuous improvement leads to better service as well as increased protection against STDs. 
 
Not only is being a prostitute hard work, it requires constant upkeep of their looks and health in order to both draw in customers and protect against venereal disease.
 
-------------------------------------------------------------
 
 
Last note from author: 
After the story was published on Prachatai and received very favourable responses (the story received more than 85,000 views), I went back to the parlour and gave the four sex workers the printout of this report. They said they feel great that people paid attention to their stories and that the article help foster an understanding of prostitution to the Thai society. 
 
About the author:
Pimkamol Phijitsiri is a fourth year student, majoring in anthropology, from the Faculty of Social Sciences at Naresuan University. Her interest in prostitution will continue as she is planning to conduct research on the career prospects of sex workers after they quit and on sex workers at the Thai border. In this translation, the words prostitute, masseuse, and sex worker will be used interchangeably
 
Editor: Thaweeporn Kummetha
Graphics: Wasin Pathomyok
English translation: Asaree Thaitrakulpanich
 
This report, originally written in Thai and published on Prachatai, is part of a grant from the Foundation for Community Educational Media (FCEM) for investigative report by young journalists.
 

Interrupted normalcy of everyday lives in Thailand’s restive Deep South

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Constant military search checkpoints are one example of an originally obtrusive element that has become common in everyday Deep South life.
 
These checkpoints block an entire lane on the road, so cars are funnelled into the one available lane. At these checkpoints there is a large sign detailing the search procedures: turn on the lights in the car and roll down the car windows, so that the officials can clearly see into the car. 
 
If the passenger looks ethnically Thai or Chinese, the soldiers will wave them by without much searching. However, if the passenger is Muslim Malay, then they are subjected to questioning from the officials. Such questions include who they are, where they are from, where they are driving to and why, etc. This sort of questioning, of course, is done with the aim of catching “southern bandits,” a popular term used by mainstream Thai media when referring to the Muslim Malay militant.  
 
 
Checkpoints block an entire lane so that cars have to pass through for searching. Photo by Muhammad Duraemae 
 
Malays in the Deep South apply their humorous nature to make light of everyday situations, including checkpoints. A friend of the writer told her a story about when he was passing through the checkpoint at night. He was driving, and a friend was asleep in the passenger seat. When the military officer at the checkpoint asked, “How many people are in the car?,” he replied, “I’m driving alone.” Upon hearing this, the soldier went white as a sheet, staring into the car, before quickly waving the car by.
 
Another funny story he told the writer:
Military officer: Where are you going?
Malay driver: (with a serious, normal face like he goes there regularly) To Tae Hae Bong. 
Military officer: I see, proceed.
In local Malay, Tae Hae means “to place or set,” while Bong means “bomb.” 
 
Here’s another one.
Military officer: Where’re you heading? 
Malay driver: (deadpan) To Baga Goloh. 
Military officer: Alright, go ahead. 
In local Malay, baga means “to burn,” and goloh means “school.”
 
Military officials stop every car, but will inspect more carefully cars driven by young Malay men. Photo by 
Muhammad Duraemae
 
This lighthearted pranking and joking is a temporary respite from the fact that these military checkpoints are there due to the decade-long violence in the area, as well as the discrimination against all ethnic Malays in the region as being “southern bandits” who place bombs and burn schools. 
 
Negative ethnic stereotyping and discrimination is one of the most deeply-rooted issues of the Deep South. Although the policy banning schools from teaching in languages other than Central Thai, initiated by former Prime Minister Field Marshal Plaek Phibunsongkhram, was repealed over 70 years ago, and at the present time the Thai state has started to promote the Melayu language and culture, de facto actions by national security officials seem to be stuck in time. Not only do security officers thoroughly search cars of only ethnic Malays, but they also arbitrarily gather and compile DNA information from ethnic Malays as a preventive measure against violence.
 
While peace talks between the insurgent movement and the Thai state move into technical, scholarly areas, the everyday lives of Deep South locals—including Malay Muslims, Thai-Chinese, and Buddhist Thais—continue, interrupted by daily discrimination and higher-ups’ exercises of power. Some local youths are speaking up about the need for peace and mutual understanding at the grassroots, everyday level, which can be promoted through local history. 
 

Saiburi Looker: forging friendships in the danger zone

 
The last time Saiburi district in Pattani province appeared in headline news was on 25 July 2015, when a bomb exploded in a Chinese neighbourhood. This bomb resulted in the death of one soldier who was guarding a monk and the death of one monk. Severely wounded were a monk, two soldiers, and two locals. In 2009, another bomb exploded in the same district, harming Thai Buddhists, Thai-Chinese, Muslims, as well as security officers.
 
This 7-11 branch in Saiburi has put up bunker walls to protect against explosions in the area.
 
According to statistics compiled by the Deep South Watch, out of the 37 districts of the Deep South, or the districts located in Pattani, Yala, Narathiwat, and four districts of Songkhla, Saiburi ranks as the sixth most dangerous. Saiburi, which used to be a thriving port town that served the Malay Peninsula, has been made unrecognizable by the violent events. Most of the Thai-Chinese businesses in the area have moved out. The Thai-Chinese avoid Malay neighbourhoods and vice versa, creating an atmosphere of tension and distrust.
 
“The constant portrayal of Malay Muslims as ‘southern bandits’ in the news has caused even the people here to believe what they’re shown. People are consuming the mainstream media, turning to converse with their TVs and the Internet. But if Somsak would just turn and talk to Ma-ae, then we would understand each other more, lessening prejudices,” said Anas Pongprasert, a hot-blooded Malay youth from Saiburi district. 
 
Anas Pongprasert at the Saiburi Looker headquarters in his own house
 
Anas co-founded Saiburi Looker in 2013 with the goal of restoring community relationships that have been destroyed in the past decade through violence. Saiburi Looker uses everyday objects and issues to bring 
people closer together.
 
“We got some art students to draw in public the British Malaya-style buildings in the old part of town. The house owners saw the students, and opened their doors and came out to talk to the artists. The Chinese house owners opened their home to us, discussed with us for a long time, and brought us drinks. In the last decade or so, nothing like this has ever happened. After the drawing was finished, we displayed them in an exhibition, where even more people met to discuss.” recalled the 32-year-old Anas.
 
The Chinese neighbourhood in Saiburi’s old town
 
The drawing activity was the beginning of many other events held by Saiburi Looker, such as gathering local stories from the inhabitants in the British Malaya-style houses, art exhibitions, and publicizing these events on their Facebook page. Saiburi Looker, it seems, has initiated a fertile discussion ground between community members. 
 
“Nowadays, we can go to Chinese people’s houses, and hold events in Chinese shrines because the Chinese people trust us,” said Anas. 
 
Students from Yala Rajabhat University and Pattani campus of Prince of Songkla University participate in an activity of drawing old town buildings built in the British Malaya style. Photo from TEAOOR 
 
Anas said that his activities focus on the Chinese community because ever since the unrest started in the area, the state often gives assistance mainly to Malay Muslims. The Chinese minority community, therefore, feels left out, overlooked, and wary, so many move out of the area. “Whenever the state wants to compensate for or aid affected victims, they focus on Melayu Muslims. I think this can cause the Chinese community to feel neglected.”
 
Students from Yala Rajabhat University and Pattani campus of Prince of Songkla University participate in an activity of drawing old town buildings built in the British Malaya style. Photo from TEAOOR
 
According to Anas, before the violence started in 2004, Chinese and Malay would co-exist without any problem whatsoever, because they respected each other’s differences. For example, the Chinese community there would refrain from using pig’s heads to sacrifice in ancestor worships or from keeping dogs as pets, and drank alcohol only within the confines of their own homes.
 
Another Saiburi Looker event that followed the building drawing event was a “Return Happiness to Saiburi” activity, the name being a parody of the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO)’s policies. The event was a vintage-themed fair with a colonial British Malaya era theme. During this era from the 18th until the 20th centuries, the British colonial powers wielded much influence in the Malay maritime area, and Saiburi was a town thriving both economically and culturally. During this era, English culture influenced and localized with Malay culture, creating the British Malaya-style buildings still standing in the old part of town today in Sai town. 
 
Visitors to the “Return Happiness to Saiburi” event were invited to dress up in period costumes: a sarong and outer shirt for men, and a banong dress for women, for example. 
 
The British Malaya-themed “Return Happiness to Saiburi” event 
 
“The ‘Return Happiness to Saiburi event highlighted the cultural diversity of our city. This diversity was really clearly seen during the British Malaya period, or about 70 years ago. At that time, the Deep South was under British influence, such as in a modern lifestyle and democratic principles. People listened to the BBC radio from Malaysia, sent their kids to study in Penang, gave their children English names, and dressed in modern clothes. It doesn’t mean that we’re so proud of being westernized, but to show we used to be like this back then” explained Anas.
 
Unlike most of the local Malays that go to the traditional Islamic ponoh school or the modernized private Islamic schools, Anas went to a Thai school, then lived in Bangkok for 10 years, during which time he studied Political Science at Ramkhamhaeng University. He led a lifestyle just like any other Bangkokian teen until he got tired of life in the capital, where he was always bombarded with news of unrest back in his hometown. Feeling alienated, he came back to Pattani to get in touch with his roots again.
 
“I was always educated in the state system, so history lessons were chock full of nationalism. Then I realized that I knew nothing of my actual home. I knew of my nation, but not my motherland. Once I realized that, I felt cornered. My identity and sense of self had disappeared,” continued Anas.
 
At the “Return Happiness to Saiburi” event, staff and visitors dressed up in British Malaya-era garb.
 
Lately, a historical and cultural trend relating to all things Patani has been resurfacing. The term conveys a sense of nationalism and pride that the area used to be a prosperous maritime Islamic empire, before becoming a colony under Siam around 1800, and later divided into seven largely autonomous states, one of which is Saiburi.
 
Asked why he chose to focus on the history of Saiburi, instead of Patani, he replied, “A group of people try to tie together today’s situation with a history 300 years ago. But I think the problems in this area haven’t been going on for 300 years, but only around 70 years. I think history that is more recent to the present day is more ‘real’ and ‘tangible’ than a 300-year old one.” 
 
“When this area was part of the Patani kingdom, it was multicultural and diverse, too. But present-day zealots motivated by nationalism look at only the Muslim Malay part of that old kingdom. They forget that they were, and are, also Buddhist Malays and Chinese,” continued Anas.
 
Pipitpakdee Mansion, built in 1885 and owned by the family of the Saiburi governor, portrays the wealth during the era when Saiburi was one of the main autonomous states in the region. In 1901, Saiburi became its own province before becoming a district of Pattani in 1932. 
 
“If people only pick and choose the parts of history they want to suit their needs, then what they do is no different than propaganda. We should retell our history in a fair way that doesn’t include oppression of ‘another’
group of people. If we do that, then we’re no different than those who spread propaganda. We have to speak of our own negative points as well. It’s history. It’s something that already happened, and should be discussed openly.”
 
When asked about whether Saiburi Looker had any political suggestions or intentions in mind, Anas replied that at this point in time, the important focus was on fostering basic trust within the community and establishing a free public sphere. “It would be skipping steps for us to go up on a big stage and throw out technical terms before asking regular people what they want.”
 
The proud Saiburian finished off with, “The process of peace should start from local people coming together and talking to each other, shedding their suspicions, distrust, and barriers. Only then can we move on to larger-scale goals.” 
 
 
Jun-guy Sae-giang, age 67
A Hokkien Chinese Saiburi local. She runs a construction materials shop in Saiburi.
 
“My family has been in Thailand for three generations. My grandparents sailed here by boat and landed at Bang Kao. They sold dried fish and exported it to Singapore before moving to Saiburi.”
 
“I have a lot of Muslim Malay friends. They’re always going in and out of the house. My mother taught us children some precepts from Islam. When she came from China, she didn’t have any religion, so when she came here she absorbed some from Islam.” 
 
“I can speak Melayu. I use it when selling goods to Melayu customers. My mother taught me to speak polite Melayu to our customers. My mother can speak only Chinese and Melayu.”
 
“During Ramadan, my mother taught me to prepare sugar to make sweets for our Muslim friends for them to eat at night time, after their fast during the day.”
 
“Although there’s violence in the area, for my close Muslim friends, they will always be my close friends.”
 
“I have no intention of moving anywhere else, because this is my home.” 

Waeng in Love: where violence nurtures nature 

 

A sea of mist as the sun rises over the Hala-Bala Wildlife Reserve. The forests here are rich and lush, and nature enthusiasts often come here to take photos and watch the hornbills. 
 
Weang district in Narathiwat Province is far from being modern and developed. The district’s first 7-11 branch opened here not long ago, and there are no gas stations or hotels. Unlike Saiburi, Waeng is zoned as a very low-violence district, like the other border districts. However, the locals here are still pressured by the surrounding violence.
 
Nirandorn Lokna, or Yee, and Sulaiman Chemae, or Lee, are two young men who love their home district, and try to present Waeng’s natural and cultural beauty to locals. 
 
Sulaiman (sitting) and Nirandon in a photoshoot to portray Malay life in Waeng in the days of yore, when elephants were everyday companions. This was taken in Su-ngai Padi, a neighbouring district to Weang. Photo by Wan Fazri
 
Malays in the region are so used to violence and oppression that living with it has sadly become a part of their everyday life.
 
“My home has had so many violent events over the years. These events accumulate, build up in the feelings of the people here, making many people mentally ill and physically sick. I think it’s affecting me badly, too. Since I was a kid, I would walk up to the district office, where they would lay out the bodies of the people shot dead. At one point, there were bodies there every day. This sight became so common that I’m now used to it,” said Nirandorn. Nirandorn used to be a scriptwriter and director for films and lakorns, and an experienced one at that. 
 
Both Nirandon and Sulaiman, therefore, have devoted themselves to promoting the natural and cultural beauty of Waeng and its neighbouring districts as a therapeutic balm to the violence of everyday life in the Deep South. 
 
Another photo from Nirandon and Sulaiman’s photoshoot, this time, of the “Elephant Taxi” that existed in Waeng when it was a multi-ethnic, multicultural hub and thriving gold mining town, in the period before the Indochina War. 
 
Nirandorn, who used to be the assistant director for Chatrichalerm Yukol, the director of the Naresuan epic films, produced a 12-minute short film called “Waeng in Love,” inspired by the book of the same name written by Chabaabaan. The novel tells of a Thai Buddhist girl growing up in Waeng 60 years ago.
 
The short film, set in the present day, tells the story of a Thai Buddhist girl and her relationships with Muslims, giving an overview of inter-religion relationships in the Deep South before violence erupted 11 years ago. 
 
Not only does Nirandorn make short films, he also teaches local youths to make short films in his camps. The camps teach all the steps of filmmaking, including scriptwriting, filming, and editing. He wants youths to have a creative outlet for their views.
 
The pair have also produced an ad to promote tourism in the Deep South, sponsored by the Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT). Unlike other provinces’ tourism promotion ads that focus on iconic landmarks, Sulaiman chose to present “Patani” as a borderless area united through a common culture, and inviting viewers to discover for themselves the places to go. 
 
Sulaiman has found that in their attempt to tell the stories of their home, they have suffered discrimination and prejudice as “outsiders.”
 
 

Journey in Patani ยาวหน่อย แต่อยากให้อ่านนะครับวิดีโอชิ้นนี้ เป็นงานโฆษณา ของ ททท.สำนักงานนราธิวาส ที่ดูแลกำกับการท่องเที่ยว 3 จว ชายแดนใต้ โดยมี บังยี Nirundorn Loknaเป็น โปรโมเตอร์ประสานงานจัดหาทุนจาก ททท และมีบังบรี Mahamasabree Jehlohเป็น ช่างภาพ ตัดต่อ ขับรถ และผมเอง ร่วมคิดบท ค้นหาสถานที่ เป็นโปรดิวเซอร์ และร่วมเดินๆ วิ่ง ๆ ในวิดีโอชิ้นนี้ รวมไปถึงเพื่อนกินยันตาย อย่าง Anattata Naser Havilator Cucu ที่มาร่วมช่วยกันให้สำเร็จขึ้นนมา คลิปนี้ใช้เวลาตระเวนถ่ายทำ 6-7 วัน ไปในสถานที่เกิน 50 แห่ง ( มีอีกหลายที่ๆถ่ายมาแล้วไม่ได้เอาลง) แล้วก็ยังมีสถานที่ๆสวยมากๆ อีกหลายที่ ที่อยู่ในลิสต์ แต่ด้วยเวลา/ งบประมาณที่เป็นข้อจำกัดจึงทำให้ คลิปออกมาได้แบบนี้ ความจริงถ้าจะไปถ่ายสถานที่ในใจให้ได้ทั้งหมดคงต้องใช้เวลาซัก 2 เดือน วัดแสง วัดลม ให้สวย เหมาะกับการถ่ายทำ ที่ใช้คำว่า Journey in Patani เราอยากสื่อถึงคำว่า ปาตานี อันหมายถึง พื้นที่ใน 3จวแห่งนี้ มาใช้แทน โดยไม่มีเส้นแบ่งเขตจังหวัดมาแบ่งเขตพื้นที่อันมี นิเวศ ประเพณี วัฒนธรรม ศาสนา สิ่งแวดล้อมร่วมกันอย่างนี้ ..... ผมในฐานะที่เป็นคนชอบเดินทาง ไปไหนมาไหนมีโอกาสเห็นของสวยๆงามๆ ในที่แห่งนี้ มีไอเดียอยากทำแบบนี้โดยมีคลิปของฝรั่งนักเดินทาง รอบโลก เป็นต้นแบบ ตลอดเวลาที่เราไปถ่ายทำเราสนุกกันมากครับ ตื่นเต้น ปนประทับใจ เพราะบางที่ก็เป็นครั้งแรกของพวกเราเช่นกัน แต่กว่าที่คลิปนี้จะออกมาถูกใจเพื่อนหลายคนๆ เบื้องหลังก็มีเรื่องราว บ้าบอ ขมเปรี้ยวอยู่ ... บนการเดินทางของเราด้วยรถเก๋งคันเก่าๆ กับเราทีม งาน 2-3คน อุปกรณ์ถ่ายทำ เสื้อผ้า ของใช้เต็มคันรถ เราถูกเจ้าหน้าที่ๆมีปืนที่เอว มีเสื้อเกราะที่อก มีหมวกเหล็กสวมบนหัว และมีความอคติ กับพวกเราก้อนใหญ่อยู่ในหัวใจ แน่นอนล่ะพวกเค้าเป็นคนนอกพื้นที่กันทั้งนั้น โบกสกัดตามด่าน เป็น 10 ครั้ง มีอยู่2-3 ครั้ง ต้องโดนค้นของกันทั้งคันรถ( แบบระเนระนาด ) ถูกคำถามเชิง เย้ยหยัน ประชดประชด เข้ามา เพียงแค่เรา มีหน้าตา สารรูปแบบนี้ ( แบบคนที่ๆเกิดที่นี่และโคตรเหง้าเป็นคนที่นี่ ตกลง เราหรือเขาที่เป็นแขก ? ) เราก็ต้องตอบไปตามวาระโดยมีหลักฐานยืนยัน จาก ททท. ที่เป็นกระดาษแผ่นนึง ว่าเรามาถ่ายทำงานนี้ให้กับ ททท. นะเว้ย ไม่ได้มาสอดแนม มาแอบถ่ายอะไรทั้งสิ้น รวมไปถึง การเข้าไปถ่ายในสถานที่ท่องเที่ยวบางที่ไม่ได้ เอ่อ..หัวหน้าผู้ดูแล ก็เป็นข้าราชการมาจากนอกพื้นที่อีกเช่นกัน ซึ่งมันช่างแตกต่างกันมากกับเวลาที่เราเข้าไปถ่ายในวัด ถ่ายในศาลเจ้า บ้านคนจีน เพียงแค่ผมทักทาย สวัสดี ขออนุญาตด้วยวาจา ทุกท่านที่เป็นผู้ดูแลหรือเจ้าของสถานที่ ต่างให้เราเข้าไปทำงานกันอย่าง สบายใจฉิว ทำงานไปดูดใบจากไป พูดง่ายๆ คือ คนในกันเองไม่เห็นจะมีอะไรเลย มีแต่คนนอกนี่แหละที่เป็นปัญหา จุ้นจ้านขวางทางไปเสียหมด ...... ปล่อยให้คนในได้จัดการ ได้เล่าเรื่องราว ภายใต้แว่นและความรู้สึกของคนในเถิดครับ มันยังมีเรื่องราว ที่น่าสนใจอีกมากมาย เหมือนที่คลิปชิ้นนี้กำลังทำหน้าที่ของมันอยู่ปล.. ขอบคุณทุกกำลังใจสำหรับเพื่อนพี่น้องทุกท่านที่ไม่ได้เอ่ยนาม ขอบคุณสำหรับดอกไม้ และ ขอเอาหัวหลบสำหรับก้อนอิฐ แล้วเจอกันใหม่นะครับ #ไอเดียมีอยู่เต็มปอดแต่งบเรามีอยู่เท่าหางมด ใครชอบแล้วอยากช่วยเรายินดีมากกกกนะครับ

Posted by Simba Anda on Tuesday, 30 June 2015

 
“On our journey in a dinky old car, we were travelling with two or three other crew members. Our filming equipment, clothes, and luggage filled the car. Military officers with guns at their waists, vests on their chests, helmets on their heads, and a big problem with us in their hearts stopped us at checkpoints tens of times. Of course, they’re “outsiders” too, since they’re working here. A couple times they searched the entire car (in a 
haphazard fashion). We were asked questions that were ridiculing and sarcastic just because we look like this (We’re locals with roots here. Who’s the real outsider here, them or us?). We had to comply and answer their questions, showing them a piece of paper that said we were making a film for the TAT. The TAT, dammit! We had to confirm that we weren’t doing secret spy filming. We were also restricted from filming in some tourist attractions. (sigh) This happened when the caretaker of the site was a government official from somewhere else who was stationed there. This was so different than when we filmed in temples, Chinese shrines, and Chinese peoples’ houses. I just had to greet them, sawasdee, and then politely ask for permission and they would let me in with no problem. It was so relaxed that I could smoke while working. In short, there was no problem when conversing with locals, but the outsiders seemed to be the real problem … let us locals take care of our problems, let us tell our stories from our own points of view and feelings, please. We have a lot of interesting stories to tell, like this clip we produced that’s doing its job,” Sulaiman wrote, detailing the production process of making the short clip for the TAT.
 
Sulaiman also hosts activities to promote local music and sports which are in danger of disappearing. For example, Tari-e-na, Penjak Silat wrestling, and playing the Bano and Grue-toh drums. Playing the Bano and Grue-toh drums exists only in Waeng and Su-ngai Padi. 
 
The Dao Tong Troupe demonstrates how to play the Grue-toh drum, which used to be very popular in Waeng District, Su-ngai Padi District, and Su-ngai Kolok District in Narathiwat Province.
 
The Dao Tong Troupe demonstrates how to play the Bano drum, which used to be very popular in Waeng District, Su-ngai Padi District, and Su-ngai Kolok District in Narathiwat Province.
 
“The Melayu culture is disappearing because the Thai state does not understand or care about preserving it seriously. This made me feel that we have to stand up and talk about our own cultures,” said the 32-year-old Sulaiman. “The state pours money into security issues while completely forgetting about arts and culture, and the cultural authorities are not locals. They don’t understand or have the same love for our cultures as we locals do. Whenever they hold cultural events, they turn out wonky, wrong, and culturally awkward. They just slap some money into holding the event but have absolutely no heart in it. The state should sponsor such events, yes, but the locals should be allowed to organize the events and have maximum participation. 
 
Sulaiman (left) and the Grue-toh and Bano drum masters, both of whom are from the Dao Tong Troupe of Waeng
 
Nevertheless, Sulaiman sees a silver lining in the Deep South’s violence, which is that it draws more attention to the area’s cultures. “Whenever there’s an art contest and an entry by an ethnic Malay that shows their identity, then that entry gets more attention than it used to. Our identity has a louder voice, like a lotus flower rising above a blood-soaked landscape to bloom.”
 
 
Chokchai Anugul (Goji)
A Saiburi local and ethnic Hainanese, Chokchai owns the Neramit photo shop.
 
“This is the oldest photo shop in Saiburi; it’s older than 80 years. Running a photo shop used to be a cumbersome handicraft, but now it’s a lot easier and quicker with the use of computers.”
 
“I can only speak a few words of Chinese, but my Malay is good enough for everyday use. I learned Malay by listening to Malays speak, and remembering their words. Actually, I have more Malay friends than Thai ones. Malays are really honest people, and if they love somebody, it’s for real.”
 
“Over 80 per cent of my customers are Malay. Elderly Malay can’t speak Thai at all, so I have to speak Malay with them. Younger Malays can speak Thai.”
 
“Ever since the violence started, business has continued on as normal. There has been some wariness in the community toward certain groups, but with the people we know and are close to, everything has stayed the same.”
 
“I also take photos for hire, especially for the ponoh schools. I can take photos for an entire school. I have to travel to quite rural, out-of-the-way places. I try not to be afraid, though, because I think that I converse with people around here every day, so they know who I am, and they trust me.”
 
 
Goji’s best friend, a former principal at a religious school, visits him at his shop.
 
“There have been Chinese people who have moved out of the area. I can see why; it can be scary here. I think that it’s hard to live here if you’re always afraid.”
 
“Once a bomb exploded only 600 meters away from the shop, and three of my friends died. They were two Chinese, and a Thai-Chinese. I was really afraid at that time. There was no way of knowing if I would be next.”
 
“The operations here are faceless. We don’t know who’s in charge of the group, so we don’t know what direction the peace talks will go. [If the area becomes independent], we also don’t know who we will be governed by.” 
 
“When I pass through checkpoints, the soldiers see that I’m Chinese and quickly wave me by. If I were to smuggle weapons, it would be very easy to do so.”
 
“I want this area to be peaceful, but it’ll probably be a while. I don’t know if that’ll happen in ten years.”
 
 
Muhammad Duraemae from the Deep South Watch’s Deep South Journalism School contributed to this report. 
Translated into English by Asaree Thaitrakulpanich
 

Veteran journalist Pravit says military ill-treated him during detention

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Veteran journalist Pravit Rojanaphruk was detained incommunicado by the military junta for allegedly spreading false information about the junta on social media. Pravit is known for his anti-junta, anti-lèse majesté stance through his works and Twitter account @PravitR.
 
Pravit spoke to Prachatai about his second period of detention by the junta, caused by two social media posts. One of the posts was his own tweet about the legitimacy of General Prayut Chan-o-cha’s rule. The second item was a three-page message on the messaging app Line regarding the appointment of secretaries in the Office of the National Security Council. Pravit has denied writing the second post.
 
 
Pravit Rojanaphruk after being released on Tuesday.
 
Pravit’s most recent detention lasted from 13 to 15 September, from Sunday until Tuesday. After about an hour of interrogation, Pravit was brought to an army base, where he was asked about his political stance, his affiliations with political groups and human rights organizations, and his reasons for disagreeing with Article 112, the lèse majesté law. Pravit said he denied being a red shirt or a follower of Thaksin Shinawatra, just that he did not agree with the junta rule. As for Gen Prayut Chan-o-cha, Pravit said he did not hold any personal grudges against him, but expressed his opinions according to his principles. Moreover, Pravit even disagreed with rhetoric mocking Prayut’s physical features. 
 
During his interrogation, Pravit found that the military officials were deeply concerned with social media.
 
“They were paranoid about tweets, not even published news in The Nation,” said Pravit, who has become something of a popular speaker for his stance due to his many retweets. “People who hate me are blowing what I do way out of proportion,” he said, saying that the military were overreacting.
 
After being interrogated at the army base from 15:30-21:00, Pravit was transported in a van for a little over an hour to another location. During the ride, Pravit was blindfolded with a cloth, so he did not know where he was taken to.
 
He arrived in a room 4x4 meters wide, lit only by a neon light. All sources of natural light were blocked out. There was a surveillance camera in the room as well as a TV that only had Channel 3 and Thai PBS. A floor air conditioner stood with a sign saying “Kanchanaburi,” and there was also drinking water. The door was locked.
 
Around 7-8 on Monday morning, food was brought to him. (He had been asked about meal options when he was still being held in Bangkok.)
 
For the first 20 hours, Pravit did not get to talk to anyone, save for when he knocked on the door and asked to go out and get some fresh air. He felt that there was not enough air in the room. He was allowed to sit outside six times, but he had to be blindfolded the entire time he was outside of his room. This was markedly different from his first detention, when he was allowed to walk around freely in the camp and even play soccer with the guards.
 
Pravit’s first military detention was in May 2014, two days after the coup d’état, when the junta’s National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO) detained him at an army base in Ratchaburi Province for a week. 
 
On Monday night, a high-ranking military officer came to talk to Pravit about politics, and whether Pravit wanted anything. Pravit answered that he wanted some sun, air, and shampoo. 
 
Next morning, he got some “air” when he was allowed to sit facing away from the open door for around 30 minutes. 
 
At about 2 pm on Tuesday, a document ordering him to cease all political activities was brought for him to sign. Then Pravit was brought back to the first army base, arriving there blindfolded at around 3 pm.
 
There, Pravit was brought before a high-ranking military officer who informed him that a report had been filed against him, but the case had not proceeded yet and would be put on hold because “we’re all Thais here.” The officer emphasized that if Pravit disobeyed the NCPO’s orders again, then they would proceed with the case. Pravit was not informed about what case exactly was filed against him, only that the limitation of the charge is 15 years in jail. 
 
“Although I wasn’t tortured, but I was severely intimidated and infringed upon,” said Pravit. 
 
The officer offered to drop off Pravit at his home, but Pravit asked him to drop him off at a BTS skytrain station instead. 
 
The day after his release, Pravit was pressured by The Nation Group to resign from his job of 23 years at The Nation. 
 
Translated into English by Asaree Thaitrakulpanich
 
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Rubbing salt on open wounds: enforced disappearance, torture and discrimination among the Lahu people

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More than ten years after the war on drugs wreaked havoc on many Lahu ethnic minority families in the hilly northern Thai-Myanmar border, arbitrary abuses and discrimination from Thai state authorities continue as they struggle to come to terms with their traumatic past.

It was almost noon and the sun shone mercilessly bright above a small single-room shack, roofed with bamboo thatch. Emerging from its creaking door, Na-ue Jalo, a 68-year-old Lahu widower, smiled faintly and gestured for us to enter her modest home. Living in a run-down bamboo house with a nephew with physical challenges and a cat, she told us that she should fix the house before the approaching monsoon rains. At her age, however, fixing an old wooden house inherited from her husband, Jawa, could be too much of a task for her. Not seeing even a glimpse of her husband’s shadow for more than decade, Na-ue said “I still have hope that he might one day return” while casting her eyes downwards, staring at a beam of light through a crack in the bamboo floor. 

Like Na-ue, many other families of Lahu, an ethnic minority in northern Thailand, are still tormented by the unknown fate of their loved ones who disappeared during the height of the ‘war on drugs’ initiated under Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra’s administration in 2003. According to Human Rights Watch, between February and April 2003, the controversial PM’s measure to crack down on the narcotics trade cost almost 3,000 lives, nearly half of which were not related to drug trafficking. As they struggle to overcome their losses, arbitrary arrests, evictions, and other forms of unfair treatment by the Thai state authorities continue as if salt is being rubbed into their open wounds.

 

Na-ue Jalo, a 68 years-old Lahu widower, whose husband, Jawa, disappeared after he was arrested by the border rangers in the midst of the war on drugs

Wounds that don’t heal

Living along the Thai-Myanmar border districts of Mae Ai, Fang, Chai Prakan, and Chiang Dao of Chiang Mai and Mae Sai District of Chiang Rai, one of the most active drug trafficking routes from Wa State in Myanmar, many Lahu families bore the brunt of the war on drugs. 

Although about 90 per cent of about 120,000-150,000 Lahu ethnic have Thai citizenship and more than half can speak Thai, they are still viewed by the Thai authorities as foreigners. Coupled with unfair stereotypes that the Lahu and many hill minorities are opium farmers, forest encroachers, and narcotics traffickers, they suffered torture, summary executions, and enforced disappearances during the anti-drugs war. Sila Jahae, the President of the Lahu Association who has been active in fighting for justice for the Lahu and other hill minorities, was one of those who suffered such a fate.

Sila Jahae, the President of the Lahu Association who has been active in fighting for justice for the Lahu and other hill minorities. He himself suffered from torture and arbitrary detention in the hands of state authorities in 2003

Sila was detained in a Ranger camp in Fang District in Chiang Mai twice in 2003. He reported that the Rangers put him and other Lahu tribesmen in holes 2-3 metres wide and four metres deep. At the detention facility, they were repeatedly brought up from the holes for interrogation and beaten, threatened with execution, or electrocuted. Sila’s father is also one of the victims of the war on drugs. Although he himself could not recount the ordeal because of his neurological complications, Sila told us that his father was taken away from a lychee farm and put into the hole under false drug charges for two months.

“We urinated and excreted in the detention hole.” Sila recounted his trauma. “Sometimes the officers would kick and use their rifles to hit 8-10 detainees who were loaded into each tiny hole. There were three holes all together.”

The rangers told us “Thaksin (the former PM) has allowed us to arrest you people dead or alive.” said Sila. He added that he does not know if Thaksin really gave the officers a blank cheque to arbitrarily prosecute and kill Lahu people through drug allegations. 

The holes used to detain Lahu people and other who were accused of drug trafficking during the narcotic war, which were already buried

In addition to arbitrary arrest and detention, the Lahu Association President mentioned that when the authorities came to arrest Lahu people, they tended to search houses and confiscate Lahu households’ valuables without returning them. Since many Lahu families, especially those who cannot read or write Thai, usually keep cash, gold, and other possessions in their homes, some lost their life savings and even vehicles. 

Jadae Kae-ka, 47, another Lahu who was put into a hole for five days during the war on drugs in 2003 and remained in custody on drug accusations for another three months, told us that the Rangers searched his house and took 60,000 baht in cash. “The officers would mark well-to-do houses and come to search them,” said Sila. “Some Lahu people also made false drug accusations against each other. In 2006, 30-40 people fled to Myanmar.”    

  

Jadae Kae-ka, 47, another Lahu victim of the war on drug

For other Lahu, the cuts of the war on drugs go much deeper. According to Sila, more than 20 Lahu have suffered enforced disappearance at the hands of the Army Border Rangers and the Thai police during the purge on drug trafficking networks between 2003 and 2006.

The Ja-ue family of Nong Pai village in Fang is one such family. In February 2005, during the New Year celebration of the Lahu, the family lost five members forever. Naga, the eldest and the mother of four of the family, told us that Jaka, her son, and Yalo and Nasri, a son and daughter-in-law, disappeared without their bodies ever being found, while Pichit, her husband, and Jakaa, the eldest son, were summarily executed. The bodies of her husband and eldest son were found the next day after the five were arrested on drug allegations. The family added that they were shot in the head with bruises and other injuries all over their bodies. The media at that time reported that Pichit and Jakaa were summarily killed by the authorities for trafficking drugs, but the family maintained that they were not involved in the narcotics trade. 

As for the other three, however, no one knows what happened to them after they were arrested. “I still believe that my children are alive,” said Naga. Napla, the sister of Jaka and Jakaa, told us “Deep down, we still have hope that they might still be alive.” She added “These days, when the authorities come into the area, we’d be afraid”. Nothing concrete has been done to investigate the deaths and enforced disappearances of the Ja-ue family.

Naga Ja-ue (left) holds a picture of Pichit, her late husband, while her daughter, Namai Ja-ue (right), holds a picture of Jakaa, her brother, both of whom were summarily executed by the authorities in 2005

According to Jahae Srirasmi, the Ador, or Lahu religious leader of Nong Pai Village, the unknown fates of many Lahu who disappeared during the war on drugs continue cast a dark shadow upon many Lahu families because the families could not perform proper religious ceremonies for their lost members. He added that his son-in-law was also killed during the height of the narcotics war.

Unending Ordeal

Although it has been more than the decade since the war on drugs was implemented and scrapped altogether when Thaksin was ousted by the coup d’état in 2006, there has been no prosecution of Rangers or police officers who were allegedly involved in torture, summary killings and enforced disappearances in Lahu communities. 

Arbitrary arrests and prosecutions of Lahu people by state authorities continue until now. On 25 November 2014, military officers arrested Jako Ja-mea and charged him with possessing narcotic substances after they reportedly found illicit drugs around his farm and house. In the case file, the officers wrote that a spy reported that Jako possessed illegal drugs and was involved in a drug trafficking ring with two other Lahu in Tha Ton Subdistrict of Mae Ai. According to the Peace Foundation, a civil society group which has been providing legal assistance to many Lahu and other ethnic minorities in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai, however, there are many inconsistencies in the report of Jako’s arrest. 

The Foundation pointed out that the authorities did not record the name of the ‘spy’ who made the accusations against Jako. Moreover, the officers mentioned in the file that three Lahu tribesmen are involved, but one of the suspects was released on the day of the arrest. The Foundation added that contrary to the case file, which states that 2000 narcotic pills were found in a hole next to a corn field of the suspect and another 60 pills next to Jako’s house adjacent to a village creek, the footage evidence shows that there is no corn field in the area and that the house of the suspect is nowhere near the creek. 

Nadao Aimu, Jako’s wife, maintains that her husband is innocent. She said that the authorities and another Lahu tribesman who owes her husband money planted drugs on Jako. Speaking in Lahu, Nadao added that the officers also hit Jako’s head with batons to the point that he lost consciousness and claimed that they had to do so to prevent his escape. Jako is still in custody.

Nadao Aimu, Jako’s wife, who maintains that her Lahu husband is innocent

In 24 March 2013, police officers stopped the pickup truck of Thongchat Panpakarin, a Lahu man, when he was driving home in Fang District of Chiang Mai from a festival with four other Lahu, five Hmong, and two Lisu. The officer searched the car and claimed that the car was stolen from another person before arresting Thongchat and the others. The police took them to the Narcotics Control Board district centre where they were interrogated and later informed that they were charged with drug trafficking. 

“The narcotics control officers detained us there for two days. They asked me if I know the guys from other tribes whom I offered a free ride to and when I said I didn’t know them before, they repeatedly hit and electrocuted us,” said Thongchat. “They put plastic bags over our heads and punched us; when we were about to faint from suffocation, they removed the bags and questioned us all over again.” He added that the interrogation officers tried to force him to sign a statement, but he refused because the officers did not allow him to read it.  

After two days of interrogation, the police brought Thongchat and 11 other suspects to Bangkok and imprisoned them in Bangkok Remand Prison during the trial. In the end, two Lisu tribesmen who fought the case up the Supreme Court received the death penalty and five Hmong pleaded guilty and were sentenced to long years in prison. Thongchat and four fellow Lahu, who always pleaded innocent, were acquitted after being held in the remand prison for a year and nine months.

“There was no apology. My family had to spend a lot of money to go visit me in Bangkok and my daughter’s pickup truck was confiscated for 11 months, but there is no compensation whatsoever from the authorities,” said Thongchat. “I am fortunate because my family is supportive but for the other Lahu their wives left them.”

Thongchat Panpakarin, a Lahu man who was imprisoned in Bangkok Remand Prison for almost two years, but was later acquitted from the drug trafficking charges

Sila said that it is easy for the authorities to randomly pick on and abuse Lahu people along the border because of the lack of development in the region and the fact that most Lahu families are undereducated. “In the past they thought of us as vegetable or fish; if they wanted to kill then they just killed us,” the head of the Lahu Association told us.

In another recent case, four Rangers stopped Anuwat Pudlek, a Lahu teenager driving a motorcycle at a check point between Nong Pai and Huai Nok Kok villages in Fang District, Chiang Mai, in late 2014. He was taken into the bushes where he was held by two officers while another beat him and asked if he had been taking illicit drugs. When he denied this, the Ranger continued to hit him until he had no choice but to confess to stop the beating.

Anuwat told us that the Rangers simply let him go after he confessed as if nothing had happened. He added that the officers might have beaten him because they mistakenly thought that he was another Lahu who messed with them earlier.

Anuwat Pudlek, a Lahu teenager, who was randomly stopped and tortured by Rangers

Under the current junta regime, adding to the arbitrary abuses and discrimination, the forest protection policy of the military government has made numerous Lahu families jobless. After the junta’s National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO) issued Order No. 64/2014 in June 2014 to crack down on encroachers in protected areas and poachers, hundreds of acres of farmland used by the Lahu people have been reclaimed by the Royal Forest Department. Although according to NCPO Order No. 67/2014, the forest policy does not apply to poor people and those who had settled in protected areas prior to the enactment of Order No. 64/2014, the authorities took a hard stance against Lahu communities who have been settled in the area for many generations. In July 2015, Pa-ae Kirirasami, 57, Witoon Kiriratsami, Pa-ae’s 22-year-old son, and Jakui Japalo, 37, farmers of Huai Nok Kok Village, Fang District, have been charged with encroaching into Doi Pha Hom Pok National Park and assaulting officers on duty. 

Pa-ae, the religious leader of the village, told Prachatai in May 2015 that he was beaten by the authorities, his right ring finger was broken and he had to have six stitches on his scalp. He said that on that day he went to check the irrigation system of the village. When he ran into some National Park officials, he ran away. He said the officers caught him and beat him on the head. Later his son and other villagers came to rescue him and tried to take him to the hospital. The National Park officials instead allegedly blocked and surrounded the villagers. The situation became tense and both sides engaged in a brief clash. The incident ended when the military came to impose law and order at the request of the National Park officials. The village’s spiritual leader added that he has farmed there for the last 20 years.

Pa-ae Kirirasami, an Ador of Hui Nok Kok Village, who is now charged with land encroachment along with two other villagers 

Kam Nalu, the former Ador of Huai Nok Kok, told us “We can’t farm and we are going to starve. We usually start farming in May, but now we can’t do anything.” Sila pointed out that the authorities reclaimed the farmlands of Lahu people, but allowed Thanatorn Orange Farm, a large orange producer in the area who occupies more than one square kilometre of land, to continue farming. “Why do they let the capitalists do it [farm] while picking on the villagers who only own tiny plots?” asked the Lahu Association leader. 

Back in the dimly lit wooden shack with no electricity of the old Lahu widower, Na-ue Jalo, we were offered some lychee to refresh ourselves during an unbearably humid noon. Speaking of her lost lover in the Lahu dialect with a cracking voice she told us that Jawa, her husband, was beaten by officers and other Lahu detainees who were forced to join the beating. Although she was told that he is dead and that the officers dumped his body in a hole somewhere, the 68-year-old Lahu woman is still waiting for a reunion with her husband, dead or alive. Walking us out of her compound, she stared at the thick clouds which were beginning to form above the village’s hills. With the help of Sila and other villagers perhaps she would be able to repair her shack in time before the monsoon arrives, but who knows how many monsoons it would take to wash away her sorrow.

 

A typical Lahu village along the Thai-Myanmar border in Fang District of Chiang Mai Province where most habitants are farmers   

Music of the unutterable in exile

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“Faiyen” is a pop and luk thung band well-known to red-shirts. With their lyrics sharply criticizing the elite, the band seeks to politically “enlighten” listeners. Faiyen have been harassed by the military until they have had to flee to a neighbouring country. Although their lives in exile are quite difficult and fraught with limitations, Faiyen is still continuing to write and sing songs for a revolutionary change in Thai society. One of Faiyen’s new songs is a chilling cover of The Hunger Games’ “The Hanging Tree.” Although both Faiyen and Katniss may sing this song, the place Faiyen are exiled to is no District 13.

 
Note: The first part of the story is derived from Music of the Unutterable, written by the same author, published in Prachatai English in January 2015. 
 
In March 2006, the pro-establishment yellow shirts released a song by an anonymous composer that would later be played every day at the protests: “Mr Square Face.”  The rapper spends ten minutes telling the listeners about all the allegations that could be imagined against the then-Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. It also names hundreds of people who, it says, were part of the Thaksin network. The song created a lot of impact: with its catchy hook that compared Thaksin’s face to a square, people quickly learned and remembered the allegations of Thaksin’s wrongdoings. “Mr Square Face” shows how powerful music can be as a cultural front in bringing about change. 
 
Music is known to be a powerful tool in political movements and revolutions. What if there was music which aimed to push the envelope of the unutterable issue of the monarchy in Thai society where the lèse majesté law, or Article 112, can land a person in jail for up to 15 years? 
 
Faiyen is an emerging pop band which transforms Thais’ whispered, private conversations about the monarchy into funny and catchy songs that people can sing and dance along to. 
 
 
Current Faiyen members (from left): Nithiwat Wannasiri (vocals), Port (guitar), Trairong Sinseubpol (band leader and keyboard), Kluay (drums), Ou (percussion)
 
Founded in late 2010, Faiyen is a hybrid of pop and modern luk thung that has become more and more well-known to the red shirts and people who are critical of the monarchy. The band has never played on the main stage of the United Front for Democracy against the Dictatorship (UDD), the main red shirt faction affiliated with Thaksin, because of their songs’ directness on the unutterable issues. They play only at small red-shirt gatherings organized by other factions of the reds, or on a side stage at UDD-organized events. 
 
Perhaps the best way to understand the band is to examine the lyrics. However, since Faiyen’s lyrics risk breaking the lèse majesté law, Prachatai has chosen only a few of their songs to discuss here. 
 
“Why Not Grant Bail?”  plays on the recurring lèse majesté theme of Faiyen’s music. Not only does it bitterly criticize the law, the song also highlights the discrimination in denying the right to bail against lèse majesté prisoners. It also names several lèse majesté prisoners such as Da Torpedo, Somyot Phruksakasemsuk, Surachai Sae Dan, and Akong or Uncle SMS, who were repeatedly denied bail. 
 
Just a bit of curiosity lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail! 
Just a bit of criticism lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail! 
Just telling the truth lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail! 
 
Why not grant bail? How much longer are they gonna stay there? 
Somyot, Da and Surachai. Why the need to jail them so long?
 
Akong didn’t get bail. (So he’s dead.)
He wasn’t a thief or murderer. 
This oppressive, barbaric, vicious law!
 
Faiyen also has a song complaining about traffic jams that Thais have to suffer when a royal motorcade passes by. Some keywords, such as “toothpaste tube,” “a bead of sweat,” “8 pm,” and “hospital,” are hints that help Thais allude to the monarchy. 
 
Faiyen appearing at a red-shirt side stage near Rajamangala Stadium, while the UDD organized its rally inside the stadium on November 25, 2013. The side stage was organized by a community ‘Red Guard’ radio station. 
 
The band leader said Faiyen aimed at “criticizing the elite who are the problem of Thai society.” The band’s name, “Faiyen,” meaning “sparkler” or a kind of handheld firework that sparkles in the air, symbolizes the band’s goal of using music to slowly immerse people in more critical ideas toward the establishment. “A sparkler stays alight and stays hot but before you know it, the fire has completely gone out.” 
    
Trairong, a professional musician who used to work with a mainstream music company, said he has adopted music industry techniques of composing pop music to make Faiyen’s music as catchy and easy to understand as possible by the mass red shirt audience.
 
He admitted that he sometimes expropriated famous melodies from western songs in order to make the songs more memorable. “Don’t Love Ya...Be Careful of Going to Jail” is an example of a song that derives its melody hook from Sister Act (1992)’s “I Will Follow Him.”
 
Benjamin Tausig, an ethnomusicologist who studies Thai protest music at Stony Brook University, said the lyrics are neither new nor unfamiliar. The content of the lyrics comes from the red shirts’ everyday conversations and the slogans that they chant at gatherings and print on their clothing. 
 
“Music—including CDs and videos of performances—generates semi-permanent records that link the musicians to their opinions, and so most people have shied away from producing this sort of protest music,” said Tausig.
 
When asked if Thaksin appears in any of their songs, Trairong said there is only one line in a song mentioning that Thaksin’s popularity upsets the elite. 
 
Unsurprisingly, due to the UDD’s strategy of compromising with the establishment, Faiyen has never been allowed to play on the UDD stage. The band members said they do not care, however.
 
“You can’t win by prostrating and fighting at the same time,” said Trairong “The core leaders just repeat the same-old, same-old stuff on the stages, never digging deeper into the issues. The [UDD] have never really educated the masses.”
 
Faiyen is not the most extreme band in terms of music about the monarchy. There is also Pitsanu P., a red shirt who satirically rewrote the lyrics of several royal songs and songs honouring the monarchy, creating obviously lèse majesté songs. The songs seem to have been written and distributed while Pitsanu lived in self-exile in a neighbouring country after being charged with lèse majesté for a speech at a red-shirt rally. His rewritten songs are censored by the MICT.
 
However risky it was for Faiyen to sing songs, they continued to be very cautious in order to avoid arrest. Faiyen wanted to educate audiences in Thailand through live performances of their music, and have their audiences listen to their songs in an open manner.
    
But on 9 June 2014, this dream was crushed with the coup by the junta, led by Gen Prayut Chan-o-cha, who summoned some of the band members as well as an ex-member.
 

Musicians in exile 

 
“If we went in for reporting, we would be slammed with 112 for sure,” said Nithiwat. At this moment, none of the members have been charged with breaking the lèse majesté law. However, they are sure that if they report to the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO), they will suffer the same fate as Tom Dundee, a red shirt activist who was charged with lèse majesté after reporting in as summoned. 
 
Although not all of the musicians were called in for questioning, all five members decided to flee in exile together due to the harassment from the NCPO. Faiyen also wanted to continue making songs. 
 
Faiyen practicing “Song of Commoners,” written by Chuwet and Kaewsai
 
Life in exile is not easy. In the neighbouring country that Faiyen has fled to, there are regulations against refugees being open about their political convictions, especially those relating to the Thai monarchy. (This regulation is being contested by a number of refugees.) This country’s authorities also prohibit refugees from saying what country they are in if they are to continue their political movements. 
 
“Ou,” age 54, who plays percussion, has high blood pressure and is unable to receive medical care because he entered the country illegally. He has to rely on visitors to bring him medication from Thailand. Due to his condition, he is not able to help his friends with the band’s work as much as he would like.
 
The band members have to live together in a commune, where each person has to pay 40 baht a day to a communal fund to pay for living costs and food. Some sponsors have continued to support the band, too.
 
“Port,” who plays guitar, did not receive a summons, but quit his stable job to devote himself to the band full-time. “The situation at the moment is teeth-shattering and risky. We have to help each other out,” said Port. Port was the one who lugged over the band’s musical equipment from Thailand after his friends escaped from the country ahead of him.
 
Of course, finding income through playing their music is virtually impossible, with the ban on expressing their political convictions across the border. 
 
“Chor,” who has the most musical knowledge, acquired a job teaching music at schools, but the salary is extremely low: around 1,000 baht for teaching 32 hours a month. 
 
“Here, only people with money, or only the upper-middle class or higher, are able to buy instruments or take music lessons. Mostly the people here respect music as a profession.”
 
The income from selling their songs on Bandcamp.com is also very little, and not enough to support the band members. Faiyen revealed to us that six months of sales of their songs reaped only 5,000 baht. “We don’t mind if you copy our songs, but a donation would be nice,” laughed Chor.
 
Nithiwat added that although the band members look cheerful and happy, joking with each other, their life in exile has taken much away from them. For example, it was impossible for him to visit his mom when she was in a car accident, or to attend a funeral of a beloved relative.
 

Songs from afar

 
With their increased free time in their new land, their 24-7 communal living, and an increasingly pressurized political situation, Faiyen have been compelled even further to write new songs. However, in their current country, the band’s travels are highly restricted, and every single baht must be conserved. Practicing or recording in a studio is no longer possible. Therefore, a small corner of Chor’s bedroom has been adapted into a workspace, mixing station, practice area, and recording studio.
 
Faiyen performing live in Chor’s bedroom
 
“We sing or record in the kitchen or my bedroom, and close the doors and windows. We have no recording studio. It’s good that we were able to carry over the instruments and the mixer from Thailand. We bought new microphones here. We’re not going to rent out a recording studio, since we have to save money,” said the Faiyen band leader to Prachatai.
 
Faiyen are planning to release a two new albums, the first titled Suem (เสื่อม), meaning “degenerate”, which will have Faiyen’s second batch of songs. This second album, Song of a Fellow Comrade, will have covers of other artists’ songs. Both of these new albums are focused on changing the look of the band to be younger and more modern to reach a younger audience.
 
In Song of a Fellow Comrade, Faiyen are including revolutionary songs from the period immediately after the 6 October 1976 Thammasat Massacre. For example, “Fa Mai” (New Sky) by the revolutionary “Che of Thailand,” Chit Phumisak will be included. Instead of being sung in the usual pheua chiwit (Thai folk music) and Suntharaporn (1940s popular Thai waltz style), Faiyen adapts “Fa Mai” by singing it in a punk-pop style with synthesizer backing. Other songs on this album include “Pride of the Free” and “Comrade” by Jin Kammachon as well as a Thai version of the Internationale, a song sung by Communists all around the world to rouse the proletariat classes. 
 
Faiyen is even including “Ayuhai Pemuda,” a song that youths in Patani, especially those in the student group “Permas,” use in their activism. There is both a Thai and Malay cover, in order to support the Malay activists who are “being oppressed by the Thai state.” 
 
“A lot of my friends in the three southernmost provinces have been arrested. So we decided to translate and tweak the song to make it more international, so anyone regardless of religion can appreciate it. We are also a group of people oppressed by the state, so we decided to sing it,” said Toey, who used to work with youth in the Deep South when he was part of the Student Federation of Thailand. 
 
One outstanding song by Faiyen is “The Tamarind Tree at Sanam Luang,” an adaptation of “The Hanging Tree” from The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1 (2014). In the film and books, the song is used to rouse the citizens to revolt against the Capitol, which is oppressing the other Districts. 
 
 
When adapted to the Thai historical context, the Hanging Tree becomes the Tamarind Tree at Sanam Luang, where the bodies of students accused of being treacherous to the state were hung and brutally beaten during the Thammasat Massacre on 6 October 1976. The building sound, the poignant lyrics, and Nithiwat’s mournful vocals, when combined with the music video’s footage from the actual 6 October Massacre cannot fail to rouse chills.
 
“This tree, this tree, if you’ve been here before
Where they strung up men said to be traitors
Strange things did happen here 
No stranger would it be 
If we met at midnight, ‘neath the moon forevermore” 
 
Song of a Fellow Comrade also includes “Returning Democracy to the People,” a parody of the “Returning Happiness to the People,” the junta’s theme song written by Prayut and blasted endlessly on TV ever since the junta took the power.
 
“The day that the People’s Party came in, changed the ruling system to a democracy
Building it up with blood and sweat, but at last it’s been stolen
Tens and tens of coup d’états, democracy’s getting too far to see
People’s rights trampled on, and for whose stability?” 
 
Contrast this with “Returning Happiness to the People,” translation by Khaosod English.
 
“The day the nation, the King, and the mass of people live without danger
We offer to guard and protect you with our hearts, this is our promise
Today the nation is facing menacing danger, the flames are rising
Let us be the ones who step in, before it is too late”
 
Other songs on this album also include contemporary activist songs, such as “Ratchaprasong Alumni,” written by Dear, a red-shirt activist, which talks about red shirts’ fights at the Ratchaprasong Intersection during the 2010 protests. “Uncle Nuamthong’s Last Letter,” by Tum DNN talks about Nuamthong Praiwan, a taxi driver who committed suicide by hanging himself in protest against the coup d'etat in 2006, among other songs.
 

Faiyen’s Future

 

Cho, Nithiwat, and Port having fun practicing one of their hits, “Don’t Love Ya”
 
Living in exile, far from familiar surroundings and loved ones without many visible prospects have made the Faiyen members view themselves as comparable to the also-exiled Communist Party of Thailand of the late 70’s. 
 
“Communists and the old left had to escape into forests, accumulate weapons, and rouse the people. However, their ideas could not be disseminated very far, only circulating in small circles and not towards the masses. Today, however, the tools have changed. The Internet is a crucial weapon for change. We upload our music videos to YouTube,” said Cho. “Before, any songs they sang would just be listened to in the forest by fellow comrades. By the time they left of the forest, they’re writing songs to console themselves. But today, writing and singing songs is the fight itself.” 
 
Port said that to fight for democracy, they are using the power of new media which can reach the elite.
 
Yet with even the tool of new media, Faiyen’s conditions in exile as well as the political suppression of red shirt movements has eliminated any possibility of live performances. “That sort of fight is over. There won’t be a large red-shirt stage with giant crowds anymore. We probably won’t be able to perform live anymore, since it would expose our identities publicly,” said Cho. 
 
Even though a live performance in Thailand is out of the question, Port dreams of doing a world tour for red shirts overseas. However, this endeavour would need sponsorship for transportation costs. Nevertheless, the band members still need official refugee status in order to be able to travel overseas.
 
Cho said that he has killed all hope of returning home. Ou said that no matter how hard his current hardships are, he is still not sorry about it since it is a path he chose himself. The band members have no intention of giving up their goal of politically “enlightening” audiences through music. 
 
Since every hour of every day Faiyen works towards social revolution in Thailand, the apathy and apolitical stance of many Thais is a large source of discouragement to them. “Once you’re politically enlightened, did you stand up and do anything? That’s the problem. We’re all waiting and watching for you to rise up. At the moment everyone’s all apathetic, carrying on without a care in the world as if nothing’s happened.” 
 
“I get lonely and discouraged often. I look up at the sky and ask myself what I’m doing here,” said Cho, looking away.
 
When asked which song portrayed the band members’ sentiments about being exiled best, they replied with the song “Through the Wind,” a song adapted from a poem written by Jin Gammachon to encourage the exiled band. 
 
An excerpt from the song:
“From home to lands afar, on a great mission for the people
We won’t wait to build up the country, forging ahead against injustice.” 
 
Faiyen playing “Through the Wind” 
 
Translated into English by Asaree Thaitrakulpanich
 

Junta to pass law banning homosexuals from monkhood

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The junta cabinet has approved a bill on religion which can be used to prosecute, with jail terms, people who propagate ‘incorrect’ versions of Buddhist doctrines or cause harm to Buddhism. The bill also posts jail terms specifically for homosexual monks.

In recent decades, although Theravada Buddhism, the prominent Buddhist sect in mainland Southeast Asia, remains the most popular faith in Thailand, followed by about 90 per cent of Thais, the conventional practices and doctrines of Buddhism and the institutions which promote it have lost their ability to attract followers. This religious gap is filled with Buddhist cults which have managed to attract hundreds of thousands of followers, such as the Santi Asoke, a Buddhist sect which promotes simplistic communal lifestyles whose founder was disrobed by Thailand’s Buddhist monastic authorities in 1989, and Dhammakaya, a controversial commercialised version of Buddhism which has attracted billions of baht in donations from its followers. Viewing these developments as threats, prominent Buddhist institutions have come up with the legal mechanisms to control Buddhist practices and regain power.

Since 2006, the Sangha Supreme Council (SSC), known in Thai as ‘Mahathera Samakhom’, the governing body of Thai Buddhist clergy, and the National Office of Buddhism (NOB), the secular office under the Prime Minister’s Office responsible for promoting Buddhism, have unsuccessfully tried to propose a ‘Bill to Patronise and Protect Buddhism’, written by the two organizations. The draft bill was rejected under previous military and civilian governments, who recommended that the contents of the bill should merely be included in monastic rules, but not apply to the general public. However, in August 2014, the junta cabinet, which sees Buddhism as a part of the Thai identity, has approved the bill and is preparing to submit it to the National Legislative Assembly. It is now under consideration of the Council of State.

Pointing to the importance of Buddhism to the nation, the draft bill says “Buddhism is one of the pillars of the Thai nation and is the religion that most Thai people adhere to. Therefore, Buddhists should be united in patronising and protecting Buddhism to make it prosper and enhance Buddhist principles and ethics to develop the quality of one’s life.” In addition to these vague sentiments, however, the bill will allow the SSC and the government to punish anyone deemed to threaten a narrowly defined version of Buddhism promoted by the authorities.

For Sulak Sivaraksa, one of the founding members of International Network of Engaged Buddhists and a historian who is renowned for his criticisms of the SSC, the bill clearly shows the SSC’s desire to gain more prominence in Thai society.

“This bill shows blind stupidity and lust for power,” said Sulak. “The Sangha Supreme Council is a very weak council. It doesn’t have its own identity. That’s why it wants to show that it has power, which is regrettable,” he added.


Monopolising Lord Buddha’s teachings

In Section 8 of the bill on penalties, Article 32 states that anyone who propagates wrong versions of Buddhist teachings or, in others words, versions which differ from the SSC’s interpretation of the Tripitaka, the ancient Buddhist scriptures, could face one to seven years imprisonment.

To effectively enforce this doctrinal monopoly of Buddhism, provincial Buddhist committees will be established under Article 14 of Section 3. One of the functions of these committees, as laid out in Article 16 of the bill, is to form a warning centre in each province against threats to Buddhism.

According to Venerable Phramaha Paiwan Warawunno, a liberal Buddhist monk known for his criticisms of the SSC, the content of the bill to protect Buddhism violates the rights of individuals to interpret the Buddha’s teachings. He pointed out that the Buddhist doctrines in the Tripitaka should not be monopolized by any specific institution, but should be open to all on individual basis.

A spectacular Buddhist ceremony organized on October 2013 at the controversial Dhammakaya Temple, which continues to attracts billions of baht in donations from its followers (courtesy of Dhammakaya Post).  

“Whose interpretations of Buddhist doctrines are correct and shall be used as standards? Who will have the right to judge whether a specific version of the Buddhist doctrines is correct and point out that the others are not?” he questioned.

Venerable Shine Waradhammo, an undergraduate student monk at the International College of Mahachulalongkornrajavidyalaya University, a Buddhist university in Bangkok, said that if the bill is passed it may become the religious version of the controversial Article 112 of the Criminal Code, aka the lèse majesté law.

“It will be a grave danger to education especially tertiary religious education of both monks and lay persons alike,” he added.

Nidhi Eoseewong, a prominent Thai historian and political commentator, also drew a comparison between the Bill to Patronise and Protect Buddhism and Thailand’s lèse majesté law.

At a public seminar on ‘Religion and State: We Won’t Be Able to Separate in this Life’ organized by Dome Front Agora, a student group at Thammasat University’s Tha Prachan Campus in Bangkok on 21 February, Nidhi pointed out “No one really knows what the Lord Buddha taught word by word. You only have the Tripitaka which was in fact written some 500 years after the Lord Buddha died. Therefore, even the oldest Buddhist scripture is written through an interpretative process.”

Tightening the rules against ‘sexually deviant’ monks         

In an attempt to prevent men with sexual orientations other than heterosexuality from entering the monkhood, Article 40 under Section 8 of the bill stipulates that monks who perform, knowingly or unwittingly, an ordination ceremony for persons with “deviant sexual behaviour” can also be punished with a prison term of no more than one month.

Article 41 of Section 8 also states that monks who are ‘sexually deviant’ can be imprisoned for up to one month if they cause ‘harm and disgrace’ to Buddhism although the bill does not mention what kinds of actions are deemed harmful to Buddhism.

In countries where Theravada Buddhism is a prominent faith, such as Sri Lanka, Myanmar, and Cambodia, the subject of homosexuality and monkhood is understudied. In Thailand, although homosexuality is generally accepted, since the Vinaya, the Buddhist monastic rules, stipulates that monks must be celibate, most monks choose to remain silent about their sexual orientation.

A photo of two men in Buddhist monk robes kissing, posted on a Facebook page titled Monk Fetish, a page which uploads pictures of appealing Buddhist clergymen

In Thailand, the SSC has never applied strict rules regarding this matter. Sulak said that even some high-ranking monks in the SSC are themselves openly homosexual. Nonetheless, if the Bill to Patronise and Protect Buddhism is enacted, this could all be changed.   

Venerable Shine believes that the disenfranchisement of people of alternative sexes and genders from the Buddhist monkhood is a form of violence and a violation of human rights.

“It seems as if people who took part in writing this bill hold prejudiced views against people with alternative sexes and genders. This is a form of violence and a violation of human rights because naturally gender and sex can’t be straightforwardly defined as male and female.” the monk told Prachatai.

He added that the application of this section of the bill is going to be problematic because it is based on prejudice.

“Although the bill states that only monks with alternative sexes and genders who cause harm to Buddhism could be prosecuted, the bill does not mention what sort of actions constitutes harm to Buddhism. Since the wording of this section of the bill already discriminates against monks with alternative sexes and genders, its application will be very problematic,” said the monk.

Religious hindrance to democracy

Besides the legal loopholes in the bill, Vichak Panich, a Matichon columnist and expert on Buddhism and religious studies, pointed out that if the bill on protecting and patronising Buddhism is going to pass, it will become another obstacle to democracy in Thailand.

“This bill will give the SSC, which is already quite a dictatorial organization, since it is not transparent and elected, the power to prosecute not only monks but also lay persons who defy its authority,” said Vichak.

Vichak added that the version of Theravada Buddhism which is promoted by the SSC and the National Office of Buddhism (NOB) in Thailand always has two functions in Thai society.

“It [Theravada Buddhism] is promoted as a part of the Thai identity and nationalism. Moreover, it promotes the intangible concept of virtue and morality over freedom and rights. This lends support and justification for some groups of people in society to judge others,” said Vichak. “It is no surprise that this bill is being accepted under the current political regime.” added the religious expert.

In addition, according to Sulak, an attempt to further elevate the status of Buddhism in Thai society can backfire and become a grave danger to Thailand’s plural society.

In the 2011 version of the Bill to Patronise and Protect Buddhism, Article 4 states that Buddhism will be made the state religion of Thailand. However, in the current draft bill, which has been approved by the junta cabinet, the statement that Buddhism is a state religion has been deleted.  

“Although Buddhism is not the state religion now, Buddhism always assumes a state of paramountcy over other religions in Thailand and the Buddhist clergy already enjoy many privileges. If it is to become a state religion it might stir up some conflicts with other religious minorities in the country,” Sulak told Prachatai.

To sum up, Venerable Shine pointed out that the bill itself is counterproductive and would end up destroying Buddhism instead of protecting and patronising it.

“In order to thrive, religion must always be adaptable to societies to allow people to understand its practices and teachings, including, making itself open for debate and discussion. If this is prohibited, then the religion itself would be dead,” he concluded.


Exclusive: Bomb suspect reveals details of torture allegations “They tortured me until I won.”

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Four of nine suspects in a case related to explosions in Bangkok say they faced torture and ill-treatment during military detention in March. A communist-turned-red-shirt, Sansern Sriounruen is one of the four. He revealed his account of the story, which involves a hunger strike and brutal torture. 

 
A former member of the now-defunct Communist Party of Thailand (CPT), Sansern is a 54-year-old red-shirt activist, based in the northern red-shirt capital of Chiang Mai. He is a native of central Nakhon Pathom Province, but moved up north when he joined the CPT during the cold war. After the demise of the CPT, Sansern became a farmer in Chiang Mai, and later a taxi driver in Bangkok. 
 
In 2006, although most of his comrades joined the anti-Thaksin yellow-shirt movement, he co-founded the anti-coup taxi drivers group, the first so-called red-shirt taxi drivers group. He gave speeches and lectures at several red-shirt gatherings. 
 
After the 2014 coup, with the harsh crackdown on red-shirt activists in the North and Bangkok, Sansern planned that if he was arrested, he would stage a hunger strike and also stop drinking water. He also signed a document, donating his body to the Faculty of Medicine, Chiang Mai University. The document also stated that any remains should be buried at Phu Monya, Mae Wang District of Chiang Mai. He kept the document with him all the time.
 
At around 10 pm on 9 March, the police arrested him while he was on his way to his house in Nakhon Pathom and took him to the Metropolitan Police Headquarters. Since his arrest, Sansern stopped eating and drinking water. He always thought that the arrest was to do with his anti-coup activities.  
 
At around 11 pm, the military took him to Military Police Headquarters. There, his hands were tied behind his back with handcuffs. A black cloth was used to cover his eyes and a black plastic bag to cover his head. Apart from the worst words of intimidation one can think of, he was tortured to confess that he was responsible for the attack, said Sansern.  
 
Sansern told Prachatai that he was slapped on the face, punched on the base on the sternum and in the ribs, trampled on, and electrocuted on his thighs. 
 
He was electrocuted almost 40 times, he recounted. 
 
“During the interrogation, they found the document saying that I wanted to donate my body. They think I was preparing myself for death. They would make sure of arranging it for me.”
 
Sansern told Prachatai that he still feels pain in his ribs. 
 
Despite the torture, Sansern did not confess. 
 
“I’m a socialist. I support and admire Sinn Féin, Martin Luther King. I don’t believe in violence. That’s not my type. How could I admit that?” he said and cried. 
 
The military allegedly kept beating him for two days before realizing that they could not force him to confess. “They tortured me until I won,” he said. 
 
Before the press conference on Tuesday, the authorities stopped blindfolding him and cajoled him into eating and drinking, saying it was for the sake of their “friendship.” 
 
Sansern still was not sure how he has become involved in this. He guessed that perhaps because in early February, Charnwit Jariyanukul, a former member of the defunct CPT and now a red-shirt activist and suspect in the same case, asked Sansern to give a lecture on Thai politics in the northeastern province of Khon Kaen on 14-15 February.  
 
“I only lectured; the military thinks I planted a bomb,” said Sansern. 
 
Read related story:
 
Sansern shows traces of the alleged brutal torture
 
Sansern shows traces of the alleged brutal torture
 
Sansern shows traces of the alleged brutal torture
 
 
 

Sansern Sriounruen speaks to members of the so-called "red-shirt village" at a university in Buriram in December 2013

Life after eviction

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Eight months after the implementation of the Thai government’s Master Plan to reforest the country, villagers in Isaan bear the burden of a flawed policy at the cost of their livelihood and health.

 

KALASIN – Three thousand rubber trees lie fallen on top of each other as if nothing more than a row of toppled dominoes. A slender man with calloused hands and laugh lines around his eyes gazes at the field that was once his life savings, primary source of income, and home. It is now covered in weeds, destroyed in the name of environmental conservation and reforestation.

Paiwan Taebamrung, 46-years-old, recounts the circumstances under which it all happened. A district officer came fully armed to his house at night demanding Paiwan leave his property. The smell of whiskey was in the air. Three days later, the officer returned with the village headman. Paiwan watched as dozens of officers cut down 30 out of 36 rai of his rubber trees.

The Master Plan, rolled out by the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO) shortly after the coup last year, purports to target commercial investors who own and exploit thousands of rai to grow rubber, cassava, and other cash crops.

Villagers claim they are not at all investors – only poor families trying to make a living on land they have worked their whole lives.

“Many impoverished villagers who have lived in the forest for decades have been identified as investors,” explains Dr. Nattakant Akarapongpisak, a lecturer in the Faculty of Politics and Government at Maha Sarakham University.

This was the case with Paiwan. “They labeled me an investor and told me I had to move out. My family has been working on this land for 47 years.” Paiwan’s house was deemed an illegal structure, and he and his wife have had to move in with his elder sister.

Now, eight months after his eviction, the repercussions of the Master Plan are as strong as ever. Paiwan and his wife have had to find work as day laborers making the minimum wage of 300 baht per day.

“It is hard to make ends meet,” he says, “and I feel frustrated I am not working my own land. I worked in the South for 20 years to save up enough money to buy the rubber trees.”

According to the Internal Security Operations Command, farmers in 68 provinces are facing similar charges and evictions. What began as an admirable goal of achieving forest cover in Thailand within 10 years has now turned into a laundry list of human rights violations.

The International Covenant of Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) clearly outlines the right to work, and protects people from deprivation of their means of subsistence. Barring access to land directly contradicts the principles the Thai state has sworn to uphold.

“Right now I work as a laborer, tapping the rubber for someone else in this village because they seized my farmland. I cannot work there anymore.”

With his land seized, Pongsamai Silawan, a resident of Kalasin province, lost his primary means of income. He soon discovered that his meager salary as a day laborer was not enough to support his family.

“I have to sneak onto my land to tap for rubber,” the 52-year-old Pongsamai says. He recounts the events of a day following his secret tapping. As he was cooking rice, he heard the dogs barking. “I dropped everything. The officers were coming,” he says. “When the dogs bark, I am ready to run.”

If caught, Pongsamai could face up to four years in prison.

Pongsamai faces a dilemma. “Between being afraid and having no food, which would you choose?” he asks. He has had to cut back on many expenses. “I can’t afford food from the market. I must scavenge for it in the forest. I don’t have money for my motorcycle, and I am even in debt to the gas station.”

In the nearby village of Jatrabiab, in Sakon Nakhon Province, the government has taken a more direct approach. Labeled as “investors,” 34 villagers have been charged with trespassing and encroachment.

Charges have piled up in some families. The Srikham family had three members charged for encroachment. Khamlamun Srikham was called in to the Royal Forestry Department (RFD) under the pretext of registering her land in order to receive land titles.

She had wanted to divide the land she farmed into three parts – one for herself, and two parts for her daughters who could have land titles in their own names as an inheritance.

Yet soon after, Khamlamun and her two daughters were all charged for trespassing. The key piece of evidence behind the charges was the very information Khamlamun had provided to the RFD.

“We trusted [the RFD representative] as a government employee, that he would allocate the land to us,” Chai Thongdeenok explains. “But the RFD truly tricked us villagers. Now we have no rights and cannot use the land.”

Khamlamun’s eldest daughter was charged even though she’s been working in Bangkok for over 20 years. She now has to cover transportation costs to and from Bangkok to attend court hearings.

For Amorn,  Khamlamun’s younger daughter, what hurts the most is the effect the charges have had on her father. “He used to talk and laugh. But since the court case he is quiet and doesn’t say much,” she says. “I believe everyone who’s been charged is suffering from depression.”

As her husband looks on, Khamlamun Srikham passes the time weaving, no longer able to engage in farming.

Charges have been often exaggerated, say many of those arrested, adding even more pressure on these fragile families. When Khamphai Todkaew was brought to court, she found that she had been charged with farming 36 rai of land, when she only owned four rai.

These discrepancies in charges are not anomalies – of the 34 people charged, 25 reported being charged with incorrect property amounts.

Khamphai’s husband, Prasert, offered to be charged in her place, and thought he had reached an agreement with the police to such effect. Yet when the case was brought before the judge, the court charged both husband and wife.

They were presented with two choices: either fight but risk four years in prison if found guilty, or give up and suffer a reduced penalty of two years. In the absence of adequate legal advice, they opted not to fight the charge and instead plead guilty.

The arrests of both the mother and father have shaken the entire family. The eldest son, Lerdsak, 23 years old, has fallen apart emotionally. After 10 days in a psychiatric ward, he has returned home but is still at risk. “Every day now my brother has to take psychiatric medicines to manage his condition,” says his brother, Jakkrit. “He cannot work and we must spend a lot of time taking care of him.”

At least three families have had a family member see a doctor or have been admitted to the hospital for psychiatric illnesses. This not only puts an added strain on state mental health facilities, but burdens families with medical payments and extra care of loved ones.

Jakkrit, 21, Lerdsak, 23, and Tannika Todkaew, 26. “It is like we have lost the main pillars of our family, leaving just us three.”

Despite negotiations with representatives of the RFD, farmers in Jatrabiab were denied access to their land during the legal proceedings. A survey of families shows that 75% of those charged are barring access to their primary source of income, resulting in an average loss of monthly income of 50-80 percent per capita.

The absence of a steady primary income source, court fees, and agricultural loans have resulted in insurmountable debt. Collectively, the charged villagers owe around 4.2 million baht, or 180,000 baht per person on average.

Even under the best circumstances, it would take a farmer almost a decade to pay off this debt even without interest. When external factors such as available workdays, health and family expenses, and unexpected expenditures are taken into account, it is unlikely that families can ever repay it.

Land evictions of this type in Thailand have rarely met positive outcomes. The prospects of compensation from the state are low, says Nattakant, drawing comparisons with the Khor Jor Korprogram in 1992. According to Dr. Nattakant, under the 1992 program, government officials stated that there would be just and appropriate compensation measures. However, the funding never came and the land the government allocated was already occupied.

Today, military rule exacerbates the situation, argues Nattakant. “Officials have blocked villagers any access to help from their allies, including media, NGOs, activists, and academics. Some of the villagers have been received death threats if they tell the media about their plight.”

The military makes it nearly impossible for villagers to share their concerns with larger society. “The use of martial law or Section 44 of the interim constitution and the repeated summoning processes,” says Nattakant, “clearly violate the rights of local people to resist, or even question the implementation of the plan.”

Despite international condemnation and statements issued by the United Nations Office of the High Commission for Human Rights (OHCHR), the NCPO has failed to protect the rights of the poor. As of last November, over 500 forest encroachers had been prosecuted and 300,000 rai of land had been seized.

Under the NCPO’s approach, many more will suffer like Pongsamai and the Todkaew children, as they are pushed off their land and further into the margins of Thai society.

The eviction notice placed by the NCPO in Sakon Nakhon village.

About the author: Sarah Sanbar studies International Relations at Claremont McKenna College. She is a student-journalist on the CIEE Khon Kaen study abroad program.

The article is first publish on The Isaan Record

Isaan lives: “Thaksin put the nation on sale and Lee Kuan Yew bought it.”

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Among a wilderness of green shrubbery, Somkit Singsong sat in front of a small clay hut outside his village in Khon Kaen province. Sporting a beard akin to Vietnamese revolutionary leaders, Somkit recounted the days when there was a bounty on his head. “They came for me at the crack of dawn. Helicopters with spotlights hovered over the village. They wanted to kill me,” he said calmly.

From a rural Isaan childhood to student activism in Bangkok and six years with the communist armed struggle, the 65-year-old is now leading a green development project in his Northeastern home. But the life of Somkit will forever be linked to Thailand’s turbulent times of the 1970s.

Somkit’s rural Isaan upbringing distances him from most student activists in 1970s, who tended to come from the urban middle class. Somkit’s university education likewise made him different from most of those Isaan villagers who left their rice fields to fight with the communists during that period.

A prolific writer and co-founder of the Isaan Writers’ Association, Somkit has published several novels, short stories, and poems. Most of his writing belongs to a genre of literature known as wannakam phuea chiwit or “Literature for Life,” which features strong protest themes.

A child of rural Isaan, Somkit Singsong went to study at Thammsat University in Bangkok, took up student activism, and spent six years in the forest with the communist movement. Today, the 65-year-old is leading a green development project in his Northeastern home.

His most famous work remains the words to a song that became the anthem of the political movements of the 1970s. Along with fellow student activist Visa Kanthap, he wrote the lyrics to the song Khon Kap Khwai (“People and Buffalo”) that would later be made famous by Caravan – a folk-rock band that itself grew out of the pro-democracy protests of 1973.

“Every year on October 14, I organize an anniversary event in my home to remember the protests,” said Somkit. “We play ‘People and Buffalo’ because it helps people understand society and has now become part of history itself.”

Village childhood and city education

Born into a rice farming family, Somkit spent his childhood in Sap Daeng village, Khon Kaen province. In the early 1960s, he followed a family member to central Thailand to attend middle school on the Thonburi side of the Chao Praya River. Sarit Thanarat – the military dictator who had seized power in 1958 – had just drank himself to death, Somkit remembered.

Somkit shared his high school years with someone who would play a fateful role in Thailand’s politics decades later and pave the way for another military coup. “Suthep Thaugsuban was in the same year. We were friends back then,” he remembered. “After high school, Suthep failed the entrance exam for Thammasat University while I scored as the second best,” Somkit said, with a mischievous grin on his face.

Rewarded with a scholarship from the National Education Council, he enrolled in the newly-established Journalism and Mass Communications program at Thammasat University in 1969. The stipend of 1,500 baht covered his semester tuition fees and bankrolled a comfortable life in Bangkok.

Throughout the 1960s, a military junta had maintained its grip on power and formed an economic and anti-communist partnership with the United States. The Northeast hosted tens of thousands of US military personnel stationed there to support the American proxy war in Vietnam. In return, the US government gave Thailand major financial and development aid.

Bringing activism to the countryside

In the late 1960s, resistance to military rule reached a boiling point among university students. In the highly politicized atmosphere at Thammasat University, Somkit formed his own political creed and the sharp-tongued Northeastener soon became a leader among student activists.

“I had the feeling that Thailand was not free, but a colony of America,” Somkit said, explaining his motivation to join the budding student movement. “We talked often about independence and how to end inequalities in Thai society,” he said.

On October 14, 1973 a student-led uprising swept the military rulers out of government and launched a three-year democratic interlude for Thailand. After the unexpected victory, Somkit quit his studies, left the capital and returned to his home in the countryside.

Somkit said he felt frustrated with the attitudes of people in Bangkok. “I had a vision to build the society of my dreams in my home village,” he said, adding that the state gave too little support to the country’s rural population. He began organizing development projects around his village and engaged in politics by joining the central committee of the Socialist Party of Thailand.

“In the countryside, students were seen as the heroes of the time,” he recalled, “so I travelled around and gave speeches explaining politics to villagers.” But hostility against students and progressives was also rising. “The local bureaucrats hated me and called me a national security risk, a traitor, and a communist,” Somkit said grimly.

Into the arms of the communists

On October 6, 1976, the military dictatorship regained power with a bloody crackdown on students and protesters at Thammasat University. The shockwaves of the massacre reached Somkit’s village a couple of days later. State and paramilitary forces were hunting down communists and all of those branded “enemies of the state,” and they soon surrounded the area. Left with no other choice, the then-26-year-old fled his home, hiding in the townhouse of a friend until undercover communist agents offered him safe passage to a base in the Dong Mun forest, north of Kalasin province.

Somkit claimed that prior to this he had no connection to the Communist Party of Thailand (CPT), which had launched a guerrilla war against the state from the Northeast in 1965. “The CPT had spies all over Isaan back then, and I realized only later that they had kept an eye on me after I returned from Bangkok,” he said.

Immediately after the massacre of October 6, the CPT invited all dissidents to join the armed revolutionary struggle, accusing the Bangkok establishment and American government of backing the killings. About 3,000 students, leftist intellectuals, and farmer and labour leaders followed the communist call and fled into the forests.

Ironically, it was the state’s anti-communist witch-hunt that drove Somkit into the arms of the communist fighters. He was never one of them, he stressed, but an ardent defender of socialist revolution – a fine distinction that seems to be lost on most people these days, he complained.

Somkit received a warm welcome at the CPT’s base, and his involvement with the Socialist Party led others to regard him as a senior party member. “They treated me with so much respect, but I was really just a boy,” Somkit said.

After the CPT leadership invited Somkit to a major cadre meeting in Laos, he embarked on a weeklong trek to the border, where he was flown by helicopter to Muang Xai in Oudomxay province. “It was pure indulgence,” said Somkit. “There were servants, free cigars, and the fridge was filled with wines from Europe,” he added.

Somkit felt proud to meet high-ranking communist leaders like Udom Srisuwan, the communist party’s major theorist, and Phayom Chulanont, a Thai army defector. (In a historic twist, Phayom’s son would later lead military operations against communist fighters and be appointed Interim Prime Minister under the 2006 military coup.)

Failed revolution and rinding a new mission

Somkit never saw much good in the armed struggle and soon felt his work with the CPT was fruitless. He disliked the hierarchical structures of the organization and criticized it for allying with China and adopting a Maoist ideology – a move that would isolate the party from other communist movements in Southeast Asia.

When China’s foreign policy flipped in the late 1970s and the Chinese regime became friendly with the Thai government, the CPT was cut off from the Chinese support that had financed its activities. Soon after, ideological disputes between the party leadership and student activists eventually drove the students to part ways with the communist movement and return to the cities.

Most students abandoned the revolutionary struggle feeling jaded, but Somkit returned to his village hoping to continue where he had left off. He initiated several development and environmental projects and established a publishing house in Sap Daeng village. “The CPT was falling apart, but for me it really all had just started,” he said.

Somkit begrudgingly acknowledges that the experience of the faltering communist revolution and the return of military rule in the 1980s left its mark on his generation of leftists. Many fell into a state of political shock following their return from the forests. While some of them would reemerge in the country’s nascent NGO scene years later, they tended to turn their backs on political organizations, often taking a stance against representative democracy.

After Somkit made rural Isaan the center of his life again, he retreated from politics and turned to environmentalism. Along the way, political disillusionment crept into his life.

Somkit had a final fling with electoral politics as a candidate in a local election, but failed to win. “I didn’t have money to give to anyone – the ones who had cash bought all the votes,” he said. “Maybe it’s for the better; in parliament I might have turned into a bad person.”

The dirt road that leads to Somkit’s environmental development project, which is located a few kilometers outside of his home village Sap Deang in Khon Kaen province.

Scorning politics, continuing activism

A motor scooter came rumbling down the dirt road leading to Somkit’s development project, which lies between two fields far from Sap Daeng village. Somkit’s son climbed off his motor scooter, put down a bag with ice and cheap beer, and disappeared behind the clay hut to prepare lunch. The thirty-something-year-old is taking care of his father, whose health has declined in recent years.

Today, it seems former activist Somkit has not even a glimmer of faith in Thailand’s political development. “If I look at the future of this country, all I see is darkness,” he said. “Just look around you, is there light anywhere here?”

Somkit scorns national politics and while he does not approve of last year’s coup, he calls the current military government “the best of the worst.”

Thai politics has always been a stage “for those who seek benefits and power,” Somkit said, but corruption and nepotism escalated when Thaksin Shinawatra entered the scene.

“Thaksin put the nation on sale and Lee Kuan Yew bought it,” Somkit said, referring to the controversial deal between Thaksin’s family and the Singapore-owned Temasak Holdings in 2006.

The Shinawatra family’s sale of its share in the telecommunications giant Shin Corp to an investment arm of the Singaporean government incited major public outcry over what was regarded as an unfair tax exemption for the powerful family. Thaksin was accused of “selling out” national assets. The controversy surrounding the sale added momentum to the anti-Thaksin protests that precipitated the 2006 military coup.

Somkit also has little respect for the recent political agenda of some fellow student activists from the 1970s. “The radical leftists really thought they could use Thaksin to overthrow the capitalist system and the monarchy,” he said, mentioning two prominent red shirt leaders.

“I was once a socialist and anti-monarchy,” he said, “but then, I realized that there is no other king in this world that is working as hard as ours.” Somkit discovered his love for the country’s royal institution through his newfound passion to defend the environment, a mission that the monarch always supported, he said as his son returned from cooking. The fried cobra dish he served was in no time discovered by hungry red ants.

In a way, history played a joke on many members of Somkit’s generation. Once leaders of the country’s most progressive forces longing to foment a revolution, today many seem stuck without any political vision. And as many political observers have noted, these former student activists today often find themselves cheering those who try to freeze society’s progress.

In Somkit’s view, things are “just different now” and he has moved on from his past of political activism. “The world’s big issues today are environmental,” he claimed. “Political problems make up only a small part of it.”

As Somkit picked a few red ants off some pieces of fried cobra, a construction worker trudged out of the thick green undergrowth to hand Somkit a bill.

Next to the clay hut, Somkit is building an education center for organic agriculture. And the 65-year-old continues to think about new projects that focus on chemical free farming and he vows to fight against the influence of global agribusiness on Thailand’s farmers.

“The farmers are committing suicide by putting chemical fertilizers into their fields,” he said. “What we need is a new Green Revolution.”

 

Source

Thai theater actors in exile after coup

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Two theater activists have been jailed for insulting the King for their involvement with the Wolf Bride, a student play which parodies the Thai political conflict. At least two actors have fled Thailand because they acted in the same play.  

 
 
 
 
It took only a day for three members of the now-defunct Prakai Fai Karn Lakorn to create the plot and write the script of the Wolf Bride -- the first ever  stage play to land people in jail for lèse majesté. Full of sarcasm toward the Thai monarchy and Thai politics, the Wolf Bride was performed only twice, on 6 October 2013 and 13 October 2013, at Thammasat University. The performance, lasting about an hour, put Patiwat ‘Bank’ Saraiyam, 24, and Pornthip ‘Golf’ Munkong, 26, behind bars, sentenced to two years and six months in jail after they were found guilty of lèse majesté. Other actors, most of them are under 30, are living in fear. Six other actors are reportedly wanted by the police. Some of them fled Thailand and now live in self-imposed exile in a neighbouring country of Thailand. (For the safety of the sources, Prachatai decided to withhold the locations and some information regarding the sources.)
 
 
Patiwat ‘Bank’ Saraiyam and Pornthip ‘Golf’ Munkong at Ratchada Criminal Court
 
For a long time, the plays produced by the group had been about unutterable subjects in Thai society. Each time the group was testing the limit, thinking that they have more freedom when communicating through art.  
 
“Pook” is the disguised name of a 19-year-old actor who starred in the Wolf Bride. After Bank and Golf were arrested, the actor left his home town in the Deep South, moving from place to place, hiding before deciding to leave the country for freer air in August 2014.
 
“I talked less than 10 minutes on stage but it has ruined my entire life. I just had two exams at Ramkhamhaeng and now I have to live here -- no future,” Pook told Prachatai. 
 
Pook was a first year politics student at Ramkhamhaeng University. His college life and future in education in Bangkok ended abruptly after the coup-makers decided that the harmless, amateur play was a threat to national security.
 
Khao Niaw (sticky rice) is the disguised name of another actor. The 30-year-old activist has starred in about 20 student plays, most of them staged at a small events, such as volunteer camps. In contrast to Pook, Khao Niaw long anticipated the day of exile.
 
The Brahmin advisor (played by Patiwat in the middle) poisons the king in the Wolf Bride.
 
Anxiety about Thai politics and the suppression of opinions worry him and at the same time made him determined to push the limits of the utterable by testing the limits through plays. At the same time, Khao Niaw studied possible ‘new’ countries in Southeast Asia regarding society, politics, food, cost of living and language.
 
“When I read the script of the Wolf Bride, I thought ‘oh I’ll have to flee for sure’. When I said this to others, like my family, they said I was talking nonsense because it’s just a play. I decided to perform it anyway because I thought I’d live in self-imposed exile someday as I don’t want to live in Thailand anymore,” said the Bangkok native and graduate in Politics from Ramkhamhaeng. 
 
Khao Niaw said he regretted of not being able to flee earlier. Because he is wanted on an arrest warrant, Khao Niaw illegally, and inconveniently, crossed the Thai border. 
 
“I had thought that I was well prepared for the exile, but in fact I set myself up all wrong.  I was impetuous,” said Sticky Rice.  
 
The Wolf Bride was created by three people, including Golf and Pook. Given the title the Wolf Bride, the story has nothing to do much with the bride, which is a wolf. The storyline is weak. The main storyline is constantly interrupted by short stories. 
 
The play is rather full of improvisation. The play tells the story of an imaginative kingdom governed by a monarch who became powerful after he married his wolf bride and killed her. 
 
The image of the king in a mirror mysteriously comes to life in the Wolf Bride
 
 
Both Khao Niaw and Pook agree that the message encrypted in the play may not go far. 
 
“I don't think most of the audience understand the message. It’s partly our fault. We didn’t rehearse well enough. Some were staging a play for the first time. The actors were not so into their roles either.”
 
……................................
 
About 10 days after the coup-makers took power, the NCPO on 1 June 2014 summoned 28 activists to report to the military. It turned out that at least 11 people were interrogated about their involvement with the Wolf Bride and were forced to give the names of the actors. 
 
“I understand that my activist friends were forced to give up the names of Golf, Bank and me,” said Khao Niaw.
 
Three days later, arrest warrants were issued. In mid-August, Golf and Bank were arrested. 
 
Khao Niaw said he left home with only 4,000 baht in cash. Pook said he was chased out of the house when his royalist relatives (he is an orphan) knew what caused his trouble and also threatened to kill him.
 
“I’m very afraid, the most afraid in my life,” said Pook. Pook and Khao Niaw said living illegally in a neighbouring country is better than hiding inside the country. 
 
In a new city in a new country, they still have to be very careful. Rumours say Thai security officers may come and abduct them at any time. When they go out daily to the local market to buy food and goods, they have to wear sunglasses and caps to disguise themselves. The location of their new house is also top secret. 
 
Khao Niaw and Pook reside in the same house with a few others. Everyone -- all men -- in the house is a Thai political exile. Some of them are wanted for lèse majesté. 
 
The house is run like a commune. Each of them pays 40 baht a day for dinner and they have instant noodles for lunch.
 
They produce political podcast programmes everyday. Their incomes are partly from the donations from programme fans. 
 
Pook, who by nature is an introverted, quiet person, has been forced to change his nature. In order to attract donations, Pook turned into a fierce and funny political commentator, whose programme may land him with more charges and jail terms due to his comments on the Thai royal family. 
 
“If the Thai authorities know who I am, I may have to serve 15,000 more years in jail. I have never talked this much in my life, but I have no choice. If I don’t do it, I will starve,” said Pook. 
 
Khao Niaw, meanwhile, co-hosts a programme on music and politics and is also responsible for technical support of the podcast station. 
 
Moreover, Pook and Khao Niaw are in an environment where people talk politics 24/7. Their current job is discussing Thai politics and their future is highly dependent on Thai politics. This leads to anxiety and depression for Pook.  
 
“The lives of us exiles consist of nothing but politics -- the monarchy, Prayut, red and yellow shirts.” 
 
This is not to mention conflict among the exiles, mostly related to allegations about funding and donations. 
 
“It bloody stinks. It’s all about money. Exiles are merchants and the donors are consumers. They are competing for donations.”
 
Pook said his mental illness, depression, has worsened because of his boring, meaningless life. Also, he has no private space and private life because he has to live with others in the house almost all the time. He admits that he thinks of suicide many times a day. 
 
Because he entered the country illegally, he could not go to a psychiatrist. 
 
 
The king marries the wolf bride before killing her in the Wolf Bride
 
 
Prospects for the future
 
Pook said he deeply wants to continue his education. He contacted several embassies to apply for refugee status, but never heard back from them. 
 
“I’ve gone to all the embassies here. I want to leave for a third country to get to study again. But it wasn’t successful at all. Right now it’s very gloomy to the point where I’m beginning to give up and lose hope.”
 
“Life goes on from day to day. No meaning. Wake up, eat, record the programme, talk with the patrons for donations, then have dinner, and go to bed,” the young activist said. 
 
As for Khao Niaw, he sees life in exile as an opportunity and enjoys his new role as political commentator and ‘full-time activist’. 
 
“Some information is banned in Thailand and Thais are craving for the truth. We exploit this opportunity, now that we’re now outside Thailand, to feed those who’re craving,” said Khao Niaw. 
 
Mr. Sticky Rice believes he will have to stay in the country for at least two more years. He also hopes to apply for refugee status with the UNHCR, but his conditions do not yet meet the criteria. 
 
Nevertheless, they both are counting the days for big changes to take place in Thailand -- the change which cannot be triggered from outside.
 
“I hope that the Thai people will stop being so relaxed. Do we have to wait till the economy collapses before they’re aware of the importance of the right to election?” said Khao Niaw. 
 
“I want change in Thailand, the collapse of feudalism and democracy flourishing on Thai soil. But it may be very difficult because Thai people are very patient,” said Pook. 
 
Asked about the art that caused him to flee, Pook said “Art is created along with human history. Everything around us has an element of art. However, the art which I made turns out to be illegal. Why are the phu yai in this country so narrow-minded about art!” 

Music of the unutterable in exile

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“Faiyen” is a pop and luk thung band well-known to red-shirts. With their lyrics sharply criticizing the elite, the band seeks to politically “enlighten” listeners. Faiyen have been harassed by the military until they have had to flee to a neighbouring country. Although their lives in exile are quite difficult and fraught with limitations, Faiyen is still continuing to write and sing songs for a revolutionary change in Thai society. One of Faiyen’s new songs is a chilling cover of The Hunger Games’ “The Hanging Tree.” Although both Faiyen and Katniss may sing this song, the place Faiyen are exiled to is no District 13.

 
Note: The first part of the story is derived from Music of the Unutterable, written by the same author, published in Prachatai English in January 2015. 
 
In March 2006, the pro-establishment yellow shirts released a song by an anonymous composer that would later be played every day at the protests: “Mr Square Face.”  The rapper spends ten minutes telling the listeners about all the allegations that could be imagined against the then-Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. It also names hundreds of people who, it says, were part of the Thaksin network. The song created a lot of impact: with its catchy hook that compared Thaksin’s face to a square, people quickly learned and remembered the allegations of Thaksin’s wrongdoings. “Mr Square Face” shows how powerful music can be as a cultural front in bringing about change. 
 
Music is known to be a powerful tool in political movements and revolutions. What if there was music which aimed to push the envelope of the unutterable issue of the monarchy in Thai society where the lèse majesté law, or Article 112, can land a person in jail for up to 15 years? 
 
Faiyen is an emerging pop band which transforms Thais’ whispered, private conversations about the monarchy into funny and catchy songs that people can sing and dance along to. 
 
 
Current Faiyen members (from left): Nithiwat Wannasiri (vocals), Port (guitar), Trairong Sinseubpol (band leader and keyboard), Kluay (drums), Ou (percussion)
 
Founded in late 2010, Faiyen is a hybrid of pop and modern luk thung that has become more and more well-known to the red shirts and people who are critical of the monarchy. The band has never played on the main stage of the United Front for Democracy against the Dictatorship (UDD), the main red shirt faction affiliated with Thaksin, because of their songs’ directness on the unutterable issues. They play only at small red-shirt gatherings organized by other factions of the reds, or on a side stage at UDD-organized events. 
 
Perhaps the best way to understand the band is to examine the lyrics. However, since Faiyen’s lyrics risk breaking the lèse majesté law, Prachatai has chosen only a few of their songs to discuss here. 
 
“Why Not Grant Bail?”  plays on the recurring lèse majesté theme of Faiyen’s music. Not only does it bitterly criticize the law, the song also highlights the discrimination in denying the right to bail against lèse majesté prisoners. It also names several lèse majesté prisoners such as Da Torpedo, Somyot Phruksakasemsuk, Surachai Sae Dan, and Akong or Uncle SMS, who were repeatedly denied bail. 
 
Just a bit of curiosity lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail! 
Just a bit of criticism lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail! 
Just telling the truth lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail! 
 
Why not grant bail? How much longer are they gonna stay there? 
Somyot, Da and Surachai. Why the need to jail them so long?
 
Akong didn’t get bail. (So he’s dead.)
He wasn’t a thief or murderer. 
This oppressive, barbaric, vicious law!
 
Faiyen appearing at a red-shirt side stage near Rajamangala Stadium, while the UDD organized its rally inside the stadium on November 25, 2013. The side stage was organized by a community ‘Red Guard’ radio station. 
 
The band leader said Faiyen aimed at “criticizing the elite who are the problem of Thai society.” The band’s name, “Faiyen,” meaning “sparkler” or a kind of handheld firework that sparkles in the air, symbolizes the band’s goal of using music to slowly immerse people in more critical ideas toward the establishment. “A sparkler stays alight and stays hot but before you know it, the fire has completely gone out.” 
    
Trairong, a professional musician who used to work with a mainstream music company, said he has adopted music industry techniques of composing pop music to make Faiyen’s music as catchy and easy to understand as possible by the mass red shirt audience.
 
He admitted that he sometimes expropriated famous melodies from western songs in order to make the songs more memorable. “Don’t Love Ya...Be Careful of Going to Jail” is an example of a song that derives its melody hook from Sister Act (1992)’s “I Will Follow Him.”
 
Benjamin Tausig, an ethnomusicologist who studies Thai protest music at Stony Brook University, said the lyrics are neither new nor unfamiliar. The content of the lyrics comes from the red shirts’ everyday conversations and the slogans that they chant at gatherings and print on their clothing. 
 
“Music—including CDs and videos of performances—generates semi-permanent records that link the musicians to their opinions, and so most people have shied away from producing this sort of protest music,” said Tausig.
 
When asked if Thaksin appears in any of their songs, Trairong said there is only one line in a song mentioning that Thaksin’s popularity upsets the elite. 
 
Unsurprisingly, due to the UDD’s strategy of compromising with the establishment, Faiyen has never been allowed to play on the UDD stage. The band members said they do not care, however.
 
“You can’t win by prostrating and fighting at the same time,” said Trairong “The core leaders just repeat the same-old, same-old stuff on the stages, never digging deeper into the issues. The [UDD] have never really educated the masses.”
 
Faiyen is not the most extreme band in terms of music about the monarchy. There is also Pitsanu P., a red shirt who satirically rewrote the lyrics of several royal songs and songs honouring the monarchy, creating obviously lèse majesté songs. The songs seem to have been written and distributed while Pitsanu lived in self-exile in a neighbouring country after being charged with lèse majesté for a speech at a red-shirt rally. His rewritten songs are censored by the MICT.
 
However risky it was for Faiyen to sing songs, they continued to be very cautious in order to avoid arrest. Faiyen wanted to educate audiences in Thailand through live performances of their music, and have their audiences listen to their songs in an open manner.
    
But on 9 June 2014, this dream was crushed with the coup by the junta, led by Gen Prayut Chan-o-cha, who summoned some of the band members as well as an ex-member.
 

Musicians in exile 

 
“If we went in for reporting, we would be slammed with 112 for sure,” said Nithiwat. At this moment, none of the members have been charged with breaking the lèse majesté law. However, they are sure that if they report to the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO), they will suffer the same fate as Tom Dundee, a red shirt activist who was charged with lèse majesté after reporting in as summoned. 
 
Although not all of the musicians were called in for questioning, all five members decided to flee in exile together due to the harassment from the NCPO. Faiyen also wanted to continue making songs. 
 
Faiyen practicing “Song of Commoners,” written by Chuwet and Kaewsai
 
Life in exile is not easy. In the neighbouring country that Faiyen has fled to, there are regulations against refugees being open about their political convictions, especially those relating to the Thai monarchy. (This regulation is being contested by a number of refugees.) This country’s authorities also prohibit refugees from saying what country they are in if they are to continue their political movements. 
 
“Ou,” age 54, who plays percussion, has high blood pressure and is unable to receive medical care because he entered the country illegally. He has to rely on visitors to bring him medication from Thailand. Due to his condition, he is not able to help his friends with the band’s work as much as he would like.
 
The band members have to live together in a commune, where each person has to pay 40 baht a day to a communal fund to pay for living costs and food. Some sponsors have continued to support the band, too.
 
“Port,” who plays guitar, did not receive a summons, but quit his stable job to devote himself to the band full-time. “The situation at the moment is teeth-shattering and risky. We have to help each other out,” said Port. Port was the one who lugged over the band’s musical equipment from Thailand after his friends escaped from the country ahead of him.
 
Of course, finding income through playing their music is virtually impossible, with the ban on expressing their political convictions across the border. 
 
“Chor,” who has the most musical knowledge, acquired a job teaching music at schools, but the salary is extremely low: around 1,000 baht for teaching 32 hours a month. 
 
“Here, only people with money, or only the upper-middle class or higher, are able to buy instruments or take music lessons. Mostly the people here respect music as a profession.”
 
The income from selling their songs on Bandcamp.com is also very little, and not enough to support the band members. Faiyen revealed to us that six months of sales of their songs reaped only 5,000 baht. “We don’t mind if you copy our songs, but a donation would be nice,” laughed Chor.
 
Nithiwat added that although the band members look cheerful and happy, joking with each other, their life in exile has taken much away from them. For example, it was impossible for him to visit his mom when she was in a car accident, or to attend a funeral of a beloved relative.
 

Songs from afar

 
With their increased free time in their new land, their 24-7 communal living, and an increasingly pressurized political situation, Faiyen have been compelled even further to write new songs. However, in their current country, the band’s travels are highly restricted, and every single baht must be conserved. Practicing or recording in a studio is no longer possible. Therefore, a small corner of Chor’s bedroom has been adapted into a workspace, mixing station, practice area, and recording studio.
 
Faiyen performing live in Chor’s bedroom
 
“We sing or record in the kitchen or my bedroom, and close the doors and windows. We have no recording studio. It’s good that we were able to carry over the instruments and the mixer from Thailand. We bought new microphones here. We’re not going to rent out a recording studio, since we have to save money,” said the Faiyen band leader to Prachatai.
 
Faiyen are planning to release a two new albums, the first titled Suem (เสื่อม), meaning “degenerate”, which will have Faiyen’s second batch of songs. This second album, Song of a Fellow Comrade, will have covers of other artists’ songs. Both of these new albums are focused on changing the look of the band to be younger and more modern to reach a younger audience.
 
In Song of a Fellow Comrade, Faiyen are including revolutionary songs from the period immediately after the 6 October 1976 Thammasat Massacre. For example, “Fa Mai” (New Sky) by the revolutionary “Che of Thailand,” Chit Phumisak will be included. Instead of being sung in the usual pheua chiwit (Thai folk music) and Suntharaporn (1940s popular Thai waltz style), Faiyen adapts “Fa Mai” by singing it in a punk-pop style with synthesizer backing. Other songs on this album include “Pride of the Free” and “Comrade” by Jin Kammachon as well as a Thai version of the Internationale, a song sung by Communists all around the world to rouse the proletariat classes. 
 
Faiyen is even including “Ayuhai Pemuda,” a song that youths in Patani, especially those in the student group “Permas,” use in their activism. There is both a Thai and Malay cover, in order to support the Malay activists who are “being oppressed by the Thai state.” 
 
“A lot of my friends in the three southernmost provinces have been arrested. So we decided to translate and tweak the song to make it more international, so anyone regardless of religion can appreciate it. We are also a group of people oppressed by the state, so we decided to sing it,” said Toey, who used to work with youth in the Deep South when he was part of the Student Federation of Thailand. 
 
One outstanding song by Faiyen is “The Tamarind Tree at Sanam Luang,” an adaptation of “The Hanging Tree” from The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1 (2014). In the film and books, the song is used to rouse the citizens to revolt against the Capitol, which is oppressing the other Districts. 
 
 
When adapted to the Thai historical context, the Hanging Tree becomes the Tamarind Tree at Sanam Luang, where the bodies of students accused of being treacherous to the state were hung and brutally beaten during the Thammasat Massacre on 6 October 1976. The building sound, the poignant lyrics, and Nithiwat’s mournful vocals, when combined with the music video’s footage from the actual 6 October Massacre cannot fail to rouse chills.
 
“This tree, this tree, if you’ve been here before
Where they strung up men said to be traitors
Strange things did happen here 
No stranger would it be 
If we met at midnight, ‘neath the moon forevermore” 
 
Song of a Fellow Comrade also includes “Returning Democracy to the People,” a parody of the “Returning Happiness to the People,” the junta’s theme song written by Prayut and blasted endlessly on TV ever since the junta took the power.
 
“The day that the People’s Party came in, changed the ruling system to a democracy
Building it up with blood and sweat, but at last it’s been stolen
Tens and tens of coup d’états, democracy’s getting too far to see
People’s rights trampled on, and for whose stability?” 
 
Contrast this with “Returning Happiness to the People,” translation by Khaosod English.
 
“The day the nation, the King, and the mass of people live without danger
We offer to guard and protect you with our hearts, this is our promise
Today the nation is facing menacing danger, the flames are rising
Let us be the ones who step in, before it is too late”
 
Other songs on this album also include contemporary activist songs, such as “Ratchaprasong Alumni,” written by Dear, a red-shirt activist, which talks about red shirts’ fights at the Ratchaprasong Intersection during the 2010 protests. “Uncle Nuamthong’s Last Letter,” by Tum DNN talks about Nuamthong Praiwan, a taxi driver who committed suicide by hanging himself in protest against the coup d'etat in 2006, among other songs.
 

Faiyen’s Future

 

Cho, Nithiwat, and Port having fun practicing one of their hits, “Don’t Love Ya”
 
Living in exile, far from familiar surroundings and loved ones without many visible prospects have made the Faiyen members view themselves as comparable to the also-exiled Communist Party of Thailand of the late 70’s. 
 
“Communists and the old left had to escape into forests, accumulate weapons, and rouse the people. However, their ideas could not be disseminated very far, only circulating in small circles and not towards the masses. Today, however, the tools have changed. The Internet is a crucial weapon for change. We upload our music videos to YouTube,” said Cho. “Before, any songs they sang would just be listened to in the forest by fellow comrades. By the time they left of the forest, they’re writing songs to console themselves. But today, writing and singing songs is the fight itself.” 
 
Port said that to fight for democracy, they are using the power of new media which can reach the elite.
 
Yet with even the tool of new media, Faiyen’s conditions in exile as well as the political suppression of red shirt movements has eliminated any possibility of live performances. “That sort of fight is over. There won’t be a large red-shirt stage with giant crowds anymore. We probably won’t be able to perform live anymore, since it would expose our identities publicly,” said Cho. 
 
Even though a live performance in Thailand is out of the question, Port dreams of doing a world tour for red shirts overseas. However, this endeavour would need sponsorship for transportation costs. Nevertheless, the band members still need official refugee status in order to be able to travel overseas.
 
Cho said that he has killed all hope of returning home. Ou said that no matter how hard his current hardships are, he is still not sorry about it since it is a path he chose himself. The band members have no intention of giving up their goal of politically “enlightening” audiences through music. 
 
Since every hour of every day Faiyen works towards social revolution in Thailand, the apathy and apolitical stance of many Thais is a large source of discouragement to them. “Once you’re politically enlightened, did you stand up and do anything? That’s the problem. We’re all waiting and watching for you to rise up. At the moment everyone’s all apathetic, carrying on without a care in the world as if nothing’s happened.” 
 
“I get lonely and discouraged often. I look up at the sky and ask myself what I’m doing here,” said Cho, looking away.
 
When asked which song portrayed the band members’ sentiments about being exiled best, they replied with the song “Through the Wind,” a song adapted from a poem written by Jin Gammachon to encourage the exiled band. 
 
An excerpt from the song:
“From home to lands afar, on a great mission for the people
We won’t wait to build up the country, forging ahead against injustice.” 
 
Faiyen playing “Through the Wind” 
 
Translated into English by Asaree Thaitrakulpanich
 
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