Thai Constitutional Court Forces a Timely Interlude

In the latest act of this bizarre political drama, Thailand's constitutional court ruled Tuesday to disband three of the country's governing political parties for electoral fraud.

The verdict forced the dissolution of Prime Minister Somchai Wongsawat's Palang Prachachon Party (PPP) or People's Power Party. Somchai, brother in law of ousted Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, and 59 other MPs have been banned from politics for five years.

The decision was heralded as a 'victory' by the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD). On hearing the news, many of yellow-clad demonstrators occupying Suvarnabhumi International Airport broke down in tears.

In a surreal example of the disconnect between the PAD's single-minded commitment to its goals and the massive economic damage inflicted by its airport shutdowns, one of its leaders climbed onto stage and asked demonstrators to "please make sure you don't damage the airport facilities." And this while the nation's economy lay in smoking ruins all around.

As images of the PAD dismantling their barricades flashed across the nation's television screens millions of Thais breathed a sigh of relief.

If many are relieved to have a break from the relentless haranguing of the PAD, few doubt that this is little more than an interlude.

The timing of the courts' decision, just three days before the King's birthday, left almost no space for pro-government supporters to vent their frustration at a verdict many see as highly politicised.

Members of the disbanded parties have been busy forming new parties with new names. If they can muster enough seats, which is not yet clear, the current ruling coalition has every intention of forming a new government and naming a new Prime Minister from its ranks. A parliamentary session to vote on the appointment of a new Prime Minister could take place as early as next week.

If a new Prime Minister is appointed from the ranks of the existing ruling coalition, complete with its renamed parties, few doubt that the the PAD will object and that its yellow-clad army will once again be marching in the streets of Bangkok.

In this scenario the country will remain unstable. The dynamics of the crisis, and the polarisation it has engendered, will remain unaltered.

Pro government supporters now often referred to as the 'red shirts' have, till now, stayed clear of direct confrontation with the 'yellow shirts' of the PAD (barring one violent incident in September). But with public anger at the economic damage wrought by the PAD's airport occupations running high, the potential for violent clashes between these two groups is very real.

At a time when Thais are bereft of a unifying leader able to navigate through this crisis, a great deal of attention will be paid to the King's birthday speech tomorrow in which he traditionally delivers advice to the nation's leaders. His stature and the respect he inspires appears to be the only force capable of, temporarily at least, putting the lid on the explosive tensions threatening this nation's future.

Tragic Comedy

It's hard to know if one should laugh or cry. Thailand's crisis has taken on the air of a black comedy.

Two days ago police officers sat down with the leaders of the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD) a minority movement that has for months occupied Government House and for the past 7 days the nation's two main airports.

The purpose of their meeting?

To discuss improved security for the demonstrators who have been the target of repeated grenade attacks resulting in scores of injuries, some serious.

Press pause. Improved security for the demonstrators?

Yes Thailand's police force is now sitting down with the leaders of a movement that illegally controls some of the nation's most essential infrastructure.

Instead of arresting the PAD's leaders and clearing the airports of protesters, Thailand's police force is discussing ways to improve security for PAD protesters.

Yesterday PAD supporters were allowed to leave the protest site at Government house and move to the airports occupied by their fellow demonstrators. The police and security forces did nothing to stem this migration which will greatly swell the numbers holding the airports, rendering the task of dislodging them even more problematic.

Meanwhile, electricity continues to flow to the airports. Air conditioners continue to cool the main terminal building at Suvarnabhumi International Airport; lest the protesters holed up there suffer any discomfort. Suvarnabhumi has become a roomy dormitory for PAD protesters who show absolutely no sign of moving out.

By contrast, approximately 250,000 international travelers must endure the chaos of U Tapao the military airport, designed for some 400 passengers per day, that is now the scene of tumult as tens of thousands of frustrated and anxious travelers, innocent victims of this black comedy, cram into its facilities. Others must travel up to 10 hours by bus to reach Phuket airport in the south, another alternative exit point.

How can one make sense of a protest movement that in its attempts to overthrow an elected government and install a new political process, is prepared to scuttle the very ship in which its supporters, and all Thais, must sail in the months and years to come?

For the actions of the PAD, however honorable their motives may be, are scuttling Thailand's once healthy economy. Investors are fleeing. Exports are literally rotting. Tourists are canceling holidays as fast as they can. The lifeblood of this economy is draining away.

Adding to the absurdity, and adding more dark news to the crisis, the UK's daily Telegraph this week announced that Thailand's was the 7th most dangerous place on earth. Little matter that it is surely more dangerous to walk the streets of London late on a Friday night. The damage has been done. It will take Thailand many, many months, if not years, to recover from the economic wounds inflicted by the current impasse.

The government, for its part, must share the blame for this disaster. It has had numerous opportunities to put a stop to the protests. Yet the PAD, strangely, has been allowed to expand its activities virtually unchallenged. The government, underscoring its own weakness, continues to hide, fearful and cowed, in the northern capital of Chiang Mai; unwilling to confront head-on a crisis which it bears the responsibility of resolving.

Such behaviour is stretching the very definition of government. At present, Thailand does not appear to be governed in any 'normal' sense of the word. Clearly, powerful forces are at work but among these the elected government does not, apparently, wield sufficient influence to deploy such basic tools of state as the police and army.

Which brings us to the role of the judiciary. Here again, Thailand's crisis is illustrating that traditional frames of reference no longer fit. The judiciary, theoretically a neutral force, has become a political football.

In 2001, the constitutional court controversially ruled in favour of Thaksin, then accused of illegal hiding assets. Few doubted his culpability but at that time Thaksin was heralded as the Nation's saviour and the ruled paved the way for him to become Prime Minister. Many believed the courts had yielded to the political current of that time.

Today, the currents are flowing in a different direction. Having already convicted Thaksin and his wife on separate counts, the judiciary will today announce its verdict in electoral fraud cases against three political parties who are members of the current ruling (misnomer?) coalition - including the main coalition party the Palang Prachachon Party (PPP).

Most observers believe the decision will be against the defendants and that these three parties will be dissolved, effectively making it impossible for the PPP and its Prime Minister, Somchai Wongsawat, to remain in power.

Observers suggest that the judiciary through its apparent determination to marginalise, by indictment, Thaksin and the tools through which he continues to influence political life here (namely the PPP party) are implementing a kind of 'judicial coup' using what remains of the courts' legitimacy to open the way for a new government; one that would likely be more to the liking of the PAD and its supporters.

In some ways, even if the balance of power is shifted through a 'judicial coup', this will be just another act in this tragic comedy. For the dynamics that are the ingredients of this dark and increasingly absurd drama will remain as present and as powerful as ever. Only vision and leadership, compromise and conciliation, can now dampen the passion that is burning of both sides of Thailand's political divide.

But wait...There is perhaps one other force that might make a difference. What if the 400,000 passengers now stranded in Thailand were to simply turn up at Suvarnabhumi airport? It is hard to imagine that such a tidal wave of stressed, tired and frustrated passengers could not dislodge the demonstrators. It could be the first instance of 'Passenger Power' altering the political course of nation. It would be a turn no less bizarre than any other in this incomprehensible drama.

Thailand's Incomprehensible Tangle

It is almost impossible to understand the folly into which Thailand, Buddhist kingdom of tolerance and smiles, has descended.

The country's two main airports have been closed for the past 5 days affecting over 100,000 international travellers and inflicting incalculable damage on this nation's once effervescent economy.



The People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD) flaunts the law and taunts the government with impunity. It's control of vital infrastructure smacks more of insurrection than mere 'protest'.

The Nation newspaper reported today that PAD guards had arrested a plainclothes policewomen who narrowly escaped being lynched by angry demonstrators at Don Muang airport. It is a strange reversal of roles when the security apparatus of a protest movement starts arresting police officers.

Earlier in the day police retreated when confronted by PAD security guards at checkpoints on the road to Suvarnabhumi international airport.

Both these events underline the impunity with which the PAD can now act; publicly undermining the credibility and authority of the police and government while adding to a growing sense that the country has slipped beyond the effective control of the state.

Since its emergence in 2006, the PAD has moved a long way beyond its original mission to remove former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra (ousted in a military coup in September 2006) and his cronies towards something more akin to a conservative revolution.

The PAD's inappropriately named New Politics proposal outlines a system where only 30% of government would be directly elected by the people. This would shift Thailand away from its existing 'one man one vote' system throwing the nation's democratic evolution into reverse.

It is hard to comprehend how the PAD, a movement that currently mobilises perhaps 30-40,000 supporters in Bangkok, has managed to take Thailand's economy and political system hostage.

The protesters occupying Suvarnabhumi airport number 3-4,000 people (at the lowest points), composed mainly of ordinary middle class folk, many of whom are women. Security is provided by a thin crust of highly motivated PAD guards who are referred to as 'Sivichai fighters' ('Nak Rop Sivichai' in Thai).



The PAD has a seemingly inexhaustible supply of funds and appears to benefit from some very highly placed support, creating a sort of force field of judicial immunity. The movement's legitimacy was given a major boost when Queen Sirikit attended the funeral of a PAD protester killed in the riots outside Parliament on October 7th.

Holed up in the northern capital of Chiang Mai, an hour's flight from Bangkok, the government of Somchai Wongsawat, though defiant, appears weak and indecisive. Somchai's reluctance to return to Bangkok, the epicenter of political life, reinforces the image of a regime that is literally losing its grip on the levers of power.

Similarly, the government's inability or unwillingness to take action against PAD activists occupying strategic locations suggests either that it is simply too weak to act or that it believes there is some strategic political advantage to be gained from letting the PAD take control of such key facilities.

A measure of the government's insecurity was that it did not dare launch a police action without declaring a State of Emergency at the airports and gaining the explicit support of the courts. In any normal situation an incumbent government would be well within its rights to expel protesters from a strategic facility such as an international airport.

The role of the nation's armed forces also remains unclear. Despite calls by the PAD leadership, the army has refused to step into the fray. Its commanders are aware that military intervention would provide a temporary halt to hostilities but would not address the fundamental divisions fuelling the current crisis.

The government at one point announced that the navy and air force would be used to help disperse protesters at the two airports but they have so far taken no action.

The military is possibly waiting for a more significant deterioration of the situation that would enable its commanders to argue that the country is completely ungovernable, giving the military an excuse to assume a more permanent expanded role in Thai politics.

Meanwhile Thailand is in a state of suspended animation. The streets, though abuzz with coup rumours, bear testimony to a strange dislocation between the sporadic violence and growing intensity of Thailand's crisis and the banality of everyday life which continues virtually uninterrupted.

But if Thailand's streets remain clogged with traffic and its local markets continue to bustle, the nation's balance of international credibility is rapidly evaporating. The short and long term outlook for Thailand's economy, already buffeted by a global downturn, is grim. Much of Thailand's appeal as an investment location has resided in the relative reliability of its infrastructure, the convenience of its geographical location as a flight hub and its ability to insulate the economy from the shenanigans of its politicians.

The current situation bears little ideological analysis. Thailand's elites are engaged in a cynical battle of interests, the outcome of which will likely determine the nation's political future, most particularly in the period following the passing of Thailand's much revered monarch who has become the traditional arbiter in times of deep crisis.

Hell bent on advancing their own agenda's Thailand's political leaders seem so blinded by their ambition that they cannot, or prefer not, to see the huge damage they are inflicting on the country. The principal losers, sadly, will be the Thais themselves, whose genius for finding smiles amidst conflict has, till now, seen them through so many dark times.

Future Looks Bleak for Thailand

The situation in Thailand continues to deteriorate with no sign of a solution to this nation's increasingly bitter political impasse.

Anti government protesters of the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD) have now succeeded in shutting down Suvarnabhumi international airport, cutting the nation's principal transportation link to the rest of the world.

PAD protesters are preventing Ministers and Senators from attending meetings in Parliament and the government's temporary offices at Don Muang Airport to the north of the city are surrounded by yellow-clad supporters of the PAD.

Meanwhile thousands of PAD sympathisers continue to occupy the grounds of Government House. Sporadic clashes between rival political groups are taking place throughout the capital, Bangkok.

Faced by this situation the police, cowed by criticism of their violent response to protests outside parliament on October 7th, which resulted in several deaths and hundreds of injuries, have chosen to stand by and allow the PAD to pursue a strategy aimed at creating a situation where Thailand is ungovernable.

Under the magnifying glass of the media, which delivers images crammed with PAD protesters clad in yellow, it looks as though we are witnessing a popular revolution against an impotent and unpopular regime.

Yet the demographics of Thailand's political conflict actually favour the incumbents.

Few doubt that if the government were to be dissolved and new elections held, the People's Power Party (PPP), or any other anointed representative of ousted Premier Thaksin Shinawatra, would likely be returned to power.

On the surface, the PAD is a movement driven by a profound disillusionment with the state of Thai politics which, as society and the economy have modernised, have remained ossified in a state of 'Third World' corruption.

The PAD's support base is an unlikely alliance of hard-line conservatives, liberal intellectuals and members of the urban middle class. Its leaders' incessant tirades against the corruption of the political elite and its goal of delivering what it calls 'New Politics' (of which more below) resonates profoundly among these groups, who are hungry for an upgrade of the political system.

Among those who support the government there is, paradoxically, a deep felt resentment that the PAD is actually seeking to roll back Thailand's political development. That the PAD represents the forces of old rather than new politics.

Many of those who voted for Thaksin, of whom most live in rural areas particularly in the North and North East, see Thaksin and his PPP as their best chance for flexing their democratic muscle.

Exploiting the rural bias of Thailand's political demographics, Thaksin and the PPP have played the populist card, offering a policy platform tailored to the interests of the rural majority who have faithfully returned their champions to power.

Like the PAD, Thaksin built his support on a platform that promised political renewal. The slogan of his now-banned Thai Rak Thai, the vehicle which he rode to an electoral landslide in 2001, was Kit Mai Tham Mai which means New Thinking, New Methods.

Beneath the surface of these powerful political currents, however, is the reality that Thailand's traditional political establishment faces the challenge of a traumatic succession when the much-loved and revered King Bhumipol Adulydej, 81 and in poor health, passes from the scene.

The King has served as an ultimate incarnation of legitimate authority in Thailand and has, through his judicious intervention in times of crisis, been able to contain most destructive forces within Thai politics.

Aware of the impending vacuum and of the huge stakes at a national level, conflicting poles of power have already begun competing and it is their struggle that is today being played out on the streets of Bangkok by equally disillusioned segments of the population.

The PAD, which relies heavily on royal symbolism (yellow is the colour of the King) is seen as the political expression of the traditional conservative elite. The PAD's New Politics proposal outlines a political system which would do away with the current one man one vote democracy replacing it with a model that would see only 30% of government representative elected through popular suffrage. The remaining 70% would be appointees.

The pro-government movement, whose supporters wear red, is seen as an expression of the populist democratic energy unleashed by Thaksin.

Thaksin Shinawatra's 'success' in political terms was to have opened the pandora's box which is the dislocation between the interests of the rural majority, who were largely passed by during Thailand's boom years, and those of the growing urban middle class who benefitted massively from the nation's 'miracle' economic growth. It is ironic, and represents a cynical triumph of political marketing, that one of the nation's wealthiest tycoons should become a hero for the poor.

As Thailand's political opponents square off, as the nation's economy and government slide into paralysis, there is no obvious solution to the current impasse.

For while each interest group possesses powerful leadership there appears to be no unifying figure, beyond that of the King, that can offer the Thai people a vision of what could lie beyond this crisis.

The reality is that for a nation to be able to move into the future it must first of all have a clear vision of what that future might consist of. Until a leader emerges from the fog of Thailand's political turmoil, Thailand's future looks bleak indeed.

What a Difference US$ 685 Billion Could Have Made

This morning I read in the IHT:

"In 2008 the Pentagon's spending on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan reached US$ 685 billion."

Normally a piece of information like that would snag in my mind for a few seconds before the next fact shunted it into the oblivion.

But let's stop for a moment and imagine what that US$ 685 billion represents. Let's pause to think about what these wars, which have cost America so dearly, are about.

Let's imagine, too, what might have been if such a fortune had not been poured into war.

US$ 685 billion spent more creatively might have saved countless lives, educated millions, fed millions, contributed to research into curing the diseases that afflict millions, been invested into solving one of the most pressing challenges the planet faces: that of developing sustainable energy technologies that are not dependent on the finite pollutants disrupting our fragile ecosystem.

How did such a huge sum of money come to be spent on wars that we all know are un-winnable, especially when the very definition of victory in these conflicts eludes us? Victory in Iraq and Afghanistan, our military tells us, now means not being defeated.

The story of our recent warlike folly, and America's decline, began on a clear September morning in 2001, when a group of Al Quaeda fanatics flew passenger jets into the World Trade Center in New York. Some 4,000 died as a result of that tragic gesture of hatred.

Like an enraged giant, goaded by a vengeful and insecure political elite, America lashed out. The attacks of 9-11 triggered a global War on Terror which has seen the Western world pour billions upon billions (many more billions globally than the US$ 685 billion America has spent in Iraq and Afghanistan) on fighting Terror.

Today the War on Terror is an integral part of our lives. Our leaders tell us that we must keep up the fight against Terror. Almost daily our troops lay down their lives doing battle against Terror.

But what a strange thing the War on Terror is. For Terror is not a State. It has no insignia. It has no borders. It's more like an emotion than an object you can lock your sights on and shoot down. Yet we have poured billions of dollars into the bombs, bullets and lives which are the price, we are told, of defeating Terror.

When coalition bombs resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of civilians in Iraq we did not call that Terror. We politely called that 'collateral damage'. For how can one fight against Terror if one is the perpetrator of Terror oneself.

The reality, of course, is that the Terror we are being told we are fighting against is our own Terror. It is the West's Terror of the intense and incomprehensible fury of the Islamic world, of an enemy that is so full of hate that its foot soldiers are ready to detonate themselves as living bombs to further their cause.

In February 2003, Colin Powell, a man of honour we believed, stood before the UN Security Council, and an incredulous planet, to tell us that Iraq, contrary to the reports of UN inspectors, did indeed have weapons of mass destruction. Our Presidents and Prime Ministers, grim faced and solemn in their tone, looked us in the eye and told us that Iraq was a threat, that we had to act.

That these declarations, that Powell's earnest expose of Iraq's menace, were pure lies are facts that have already become blurred in our minds. Our governments have pummeled our consciousness with the message that Terror is still out there, that the war must continue, that victory is in sight.

When we sit down with friends over a drink and talk, we all know that none of this makes sense.

How is it that America has spent US$ 685 billion on a war that was justified with a lie - a sum almost as vast as that recently mobilised to bail out America's financial institutions?

How is it that the more we fight against Terror, the more afraid we are that Terror will come and get us; on a plane, in the subway, on holiday in some far off land? The more we fight for our security the less secure we feel.

The real battle is not one which sees us pitted against our fellow men. The war the West must win, I believe, is that which would allow us to vanquish our own fear of our enemies (for enemies there are) allowing us to view our planet, with all its beauty, in a new spirit of creativity and optimism.

After such dark years, it is tempting to see America's new President elect in a messianic light. Just a year and a half ago, the thought of Obama becoming President seemed about as likely as a meteorite striking Earth.

But now that the meteorite has struck, there is a glimmer of hope that America and its 'coalition of the willing' may now invest their energy in more constructive pursuits than the folly of war.

Thaksin: The Man Who Refuses to Go Quietly

Thaksin Shinawatra is the man who refuses to go quietly.

A coup d'etat in September 2006 removed him from power but left his popularity, at least in large swathes of the countryside, largely undented.

By 2007 Thaksin's banned Thai Rak Thai party had mutated into the People's Power Party (PPP) which won elections trumpeted as Thailand's return to democracy. Despite being banned from politics, Thaksin was understood to be the dominant force behind the PPP and was widely perceived to be ruling the country by proxy when the party's nominal leader, Samak Sundaravej, became Prime Minister.

His opponents then turned to the courts. Widely publicised corruption trials resulted in jail sentences for Thakasin and his wife, Khunying Pojamarn. To escape the ignominy of a prison cell Thaksin and his family fled to London.

A coup, conviction and exile should have been enough to marginalise Thaksin for good. Yet he still refuses to yield, retaining unprecedented levels of popularity and casting a shadow over the entire political landscape.

How is it, then, that this former policeman-turned-tycoon-turned-politician managed to achieve such notoriety and influence? To become the man who will perhaps one day be credited with (or blamed for) re-shaping Thai politics and upending the nation's social equilibrium.

A glance back in time reveals that Thaksin's political star was not always so bright.

In 1996 as a Deputy Prime Minister in the government of Banharn Silpa Archa, he famously, and foolishly, promised to solve Bangkok's notorious traffic problems in six months.

His initial involvement with the Palang Dharma Party (PDP) at this time, into which he was inducted by Chamlong Srimuang (now one of the leaders of the PAD and a sworn enemy), also ended in failure and the dissolution of the PDP.

Just three years later, however, Thaksin had miraculously reinvented himself and was already being cast in the role of the nation's saviour in waiting.

Marking his return to the political limelight in July 1998, beaming proudly before a battery of jostling photographers, Thaksin inaugurated the Thai Rak Thai (Thais love Thais) party, the political vehicle he rode to a landslide victory in January 2001.



He did so in the shadow of an unprecedented economic slump. A year earlier, in July 1997, Thailand's central bank had devalued the Thai baht sparking a crisis that snowballed into an Asia-wide economic crash that temporarily de-clawed the region's so-called 'tigers'.

In the aftermath of the crash, which marked the end of a decade of double digit growth, Thaksin rose like a phoenix from the ashes. His telecom business AIS (Advanced Info Services), which had boomed on the back of government concessions and an insatiable local appetite for mobile phones, emerged largely unscathed.

With his fortune still in tact and his reputation burnished, it was not hard for Thaksin to garner, and where necessary purchase, the backing he needed to give new momentum to his political ambitions.

Meanwhile Thailand found itself in a rare period of reflection and self-analysis.

After a decade of breakneck economic growth in the 1990s, the pace of life had visibly slowed. New emphasis was given to self-sufficiency, to Buddhist moderation and to improving the quality of Thailand's democracy.

In September of 1997, after intensive public consultation and a hotly contested referendum (pitting traditional conservatives against reformers), a new constitution was promulgated. It promised improved checks and balances to counter the corruption which had become synonymous with Thai politics. The new constitution stipulated that the Prime Minister must be an elected MP and replaced an appointed senate with elected representatives.

The 1997 constitution was just one symptom of the change which had taken place in Thailand's political culture.

Reflecting society's growing obsession with wealth and materialism, the nation's political icons were now no longer drawn solely from the traditional military and bureaucratic elites.

Thailand's new heroes were the businessmen and women (mostly sino-thai) who had amassed huge and ostentatious wealth during the boom years. In the eyes of many Thais these business 'heroes' had helped Thailand become 'charoen' or modern. Compared with the glitter of businessmen like Thaksin, the traditional military and bureaucratic elite, once proud defenders of the nation against communism, appeared increasingly dull and out of touch.

In this political and economic context, Thaksin naturally embodied the material aspirations of millions of Thais. The implicit message was that he would work the same magic which had proved so succesful in business in the world of politics.

Thaksin's brilliance, if it can be called as much, was his ability to spot a gap in the political market and capitalise on the opportunity he saw. He understood, perhaps more clearly than any other politician, that the Thai public was hungry for a new kind of politics.

Thaksin used his marketing savvy to promote his Thai Rak Thai party under the slogan of 'Kit Mai Tham Mai' (new thinking, new ways of doing things'); a slogan which bears an uncanny resemblance to the 'karn muang mai' (New Politics) chant of his opponents in the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD).

The combination of modern communications and marketing techniques took Thaksin's policy platform further and deeper into the hearts and minds of the electorate than any politician before him. His message, dripping with nationalism and populism, appealed both to the urban middle class and, most importantly, to voters in rural areas, particularly in the North and Northeast of the country.

Though he has been accused of merely amplifying money politics and buying his way into power, the resilience of Thaksin's popularity is evidence that he has gone further than his predecessors in appealing directly to the aspirations of the electorate.

His political campaign and later his government went beyond the usual charade of empty promises by proposing a detailed platform of significant change; including easy credit for debt laden farmers, cheap healthcare, bureaucratic reform and CEO-style governance.

As a leader Thaksin disappointed, demonstrating ultimately that beneath the veneer of slick marketing he was, in fact, little different from the corrupt politicians he had replaced.
Indeed, the scale of his wealth and the power he wielded in office as a result enabled Thaksin to scale new heights of corruption and nepotism.

When this reality became evident, primarily as a result of his evasion of taxes on the sale of AIS to Singapore's Temasek group, his support among the middle class collapsed fueling support for the PAD-led protest movement that culminated his ouster.

Despite widespread disenchantment among the middle class, however, Thaksin has remained popular in rural areas mainly because his marketing efforts and a number of his policy initiatives were directly aimed at the rural majority. Indeed, there is much irony in the fact that a billionaire populist's most fervent advocates should be drawn from among the poorest segments of society.

The inability of Thaksin's opponents to unseat him in the hearts of his supporters partly reflects the PAD's own failings. As it struggles to rid Thailand of what it calls the "Thaksin System", the PAD plays on fears that the monarchy is under threat from Thaksin and his cronies and warns that only a change in the system can limit corruption.

The PAD's answer is new system whereby 70% of representatives would be nominated 'good people' while only 30% of the government would be elected through popular suffrage. Such a proposal naturally has little appeal to the rural majority who would be effectively disenfranchised.

Thus the PAD has been more successful in creating a rural-urban political divide than in unseating Thaksin.

Unless his opponents can tune into the genuine aspirations of the majority, Thaksin, the man who refuses to go quietly, is likely to be with us for many years to come.

The Dream is Sweet Reality

What a sweet, sweet moment.

Barack Obama is to be President of the United States.

He will be the first African American to achieve such high office - scaling a mountain that many must have believed unconquerable.

What a sweet, sweet victory for the descendants of America's slaves; for those so recently segregated, discriminated against and abused.

It is incredible to think that in 1963 Martin Luther King pronounced his 'I have a dream' speech.
And that today his dream, whatever shade of black you consider Obama to be, is a reality.

Millions of Americans have chosen to transcend race, setting an example for other parts of the world where politics and life are too often defined by ethnic discrimination.

Obama's victory is a victory for America; over its fears and its prejudices. It is, without doubt, a cry for change and a recognition of the miserable failure of his predecessor (and for that matter his opponent).

In electing Barack Obama, the United States can restore some dignity to its battered reputation, tarnished by unnecessary war, unbridled greed and unparalleled arrogance in the international arena.

This was also a victory of optimism in the face of the negative, fear driven, politics of the Bush era.

Americans have dared to hope that with a new leader they can repair some of the destruction of these past years.

Meanwhile, the rest of the planet is breathing a sigh of relief. For Obama, unlike Bush, is a man of the world...literally.

With his roots in spanning from Kenya to Kansas and his formative years spent in Indonesia, Obama cannot help but bring a new world view to the office of President. And for this the planet cheers, knowing, or hoping at least, that under Obama America may, once again, balance its might with justice and reason.



The challenges facing the new President are simply colossal. One man alone, even with the momentum of support Obama has generated, cannot quickly change the course of the most powerful nation on earth. Like a vast Titanic unable to swerve, the US will surely have to live through a severe crisis in the months, and perhaps years, ahead.

Obama must now temper the euphoria and explain to his constituents that the road ahead, even with a man of his quality at the wheel, will be difficult and perilous.

But now is not the time to wax serious, nor to douse the joy with realism. Now is the time to party, to celebrate a great and historic moment - a victory for hope. The hope that Obama will be the man he has portrayed himself as and that his successes will be as dramatic as George W. Bush's failures.

Picture Credits:

Top Photo: A building adorned with a vote Obama sign in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. By Jesper Haynes

Second Photo: Obama Supporters Celebrate in NYC. By Jesper Haynes

Thailand's Democratic Red Herring

Everybody loves it. Everybody wants it.

The Greeks thought it up and gave us the etymology. The Europeans adopted and exported it. The Americans fell in love with it and might well drop a bomb on you to bring you it.

Democracy has become the 'holy grail' of modern politics.

Throughout the planet, politicians and political parties vie to be 'more democratic than thou'. Even the occasional dictator or well-meaning totalitarian regime will claim the mantle of democracy: Pol Pot's 'Democratic Kampuchea' being a particularly chilling example.

So it is no surprise that in Thailand's hair-trigger stand-off both groups, though diametrically opposed, are fighting on the side of democracy.

In one corner, sporting royal yellow, is the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD). In the other, sporting red (like the bull?), is the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship (UDD).

The beauty of democracy, like religion, is all you have to do is believe in it. You can explain it any way you like. Dress it up in the clothes you fancy. Stand it on its head and make it dance a Russian jig. Just say it's 'for the people'. Or at least that's what the politicians hope.

But there will always be those standing on the sidelines watching your political dance, the irksome analysts, who will claim haughtily that it's not orthodox, not democratic, even, horrors, anti-democratic (which is the modern equivalent of political heresy).

The PAD has been a popular target for the democratic doubters.

And there is easy grist for their mills.

The PAD's 'new politics' proposal outlines a system that would see only a minority of representatives (30%) elected directly by a majority of 'the people' while the other 70% would be chosen or 'nominated' by another group of 'people' drawn from an unspecified 'superior grade' of anonymous voters selected, presumably, from the trusted inner circles of power.

Government of the people, by the people and for the people is what your standard democratic government claims to be about. But which group of people are they really talking about? Is it fair to label a movement like the PAD anti-democratic just because they advocate a system where the majority would have the right to choose only a minority of the government's elected representatives?

The answer, of course, is that democracy comes in about as many shades, shapes and forms as the imagination has room for. So, no, the PAD is not strictly anti-democratic. It is, as its leaders claim, simply proposing a different form of democracy which in principle shouldn't make it any less valid in the global democratic beauty pageant - alongside Pol Pot's Democratic Kampuchea, the UK, the US and the Democratic People's Republic of Korea - than any other.

The argument over 'democratic or not democratic' is irrelevant.

In Thailand there is plenty of debate about the relevance of democracy. It's a western idea claim many members (and leaders) of the PAD (who all the while claim to be democratic) and as such is not appropriate for Thailand which needs its own indigenous political model. The suggestion is that Thailand, like some of its Asian neighbours, will concoct its own form of 'Asian' democracy.

Such arguments are also irrelevant; smokescreens designed to leave us wandering down ideological blind alleys.

Theories that pit Western democracy against Asian democracy are the convenient rallying calls of the xenophobes and nationalists. For democracy is so diffuse an idea as to make it adoptable by just about anyone for any political purpose, as history has shown.

In reality (obviously in fact), what the PAD and the UDD, and all the other political players on this planet, are struggling for, most fundamentally, is power and the right to exercise it on behalf of the 'people' they represent - whether the majority or not.

And here's the rub. There is a global consensus, driven powerfully by Western thinking, that the best form of democracy is one where power is exercised not just on behalf of 'the people' (all leaders claim this) but that the majority of people on whose behalf such power is being exercised should be given the right to choose their leaders.

The PADs new politics proposals are unpopular (most notably in Western circles) because they do not respect this convention, arguing instead that the interests of the majority are not best served by allowing the majority, with all its defects of poor education, poor information and susceptibility to corruption, to choose its leaders. China doesn't subscribe to the majority system and wealth is expanding there at breakneck speed (with some notable negative side-effects). Singapore too, where many Western businesses see fit to make their base, is far from the Western democratic ideal.

Perhaps the strongest argument against the proposals of the PAD, however, are not that they are undemocratic but that they do not define how 'new politics' would guarantee that those empowered to choose Thailand's new leaders would in fact be 'good people' or 'khon dee' - thereby preventing a slide toward the 'illiberal democracy' of the Thaksin era.

The most deeply held political aspiration of Thais today, I believe, is not the removal of the majority vote in favour of an enlightened ruling minority but a removal of the endemic corruption that has afflicted Thai politics for decades.

It is ultimately more important, therefore, that Thailand establish mechanisms for producing good leaders (khon dee) and a framework for effectively policing corruption, rather than arguing over which interest group (the PAD or the UDD) should have the right to exercise power on whose behalf.

For as we all know power has a tendency to corrupt.

Divided Nation

Harmony is a word one uses easily to describe Thailand. Social cohesion and lack of conflict are among the most striking characteristics of the 'mysterious' kingdom. This is why the passion and anger of recent months has been so surprising, adding another layer of paradox to the puzzle of Thailand.

Just yesterday, while working on a story with Seth Mydans of the International Herald Tribune, we witnessed how the easy smiles and soft tones we are so accustomed to can evaporate when talk turns to politics.

Seeking access to a television so we could watch a government announcement, I asked a by-stander on the pavement opposite Lumpini Park if they could help. This being Thailand we were immediately ushered into somebody's home and proffered drinks and comfortable chairs. Nothing amiss - the generous and warm Thailand all tourists love.

Seth, seeing an opportunity for some comment and noting the exclamations from our hosts as they watched the political news on TV, ventured a few questions. A PAD rally had just passed in front of their house: "so what do you think of the PAD then," he asked our hosts. "I want to kill them," came the instantaneous reply. "They are sowing hatred and think they can do whatever they want," continued the 40-something woman wearing a tight leopard skin top. "I want to kill them all," she repeated. Within minutes, the tranquil Thai household had erupted into passionate argument. "Why are you saying such things in my house," responded one of the men. "Because it's the truth," responded the woman, who refused to give us her name saying they would come and kill her if she did.

When we finally took our apologetic leave, the peace of the household had been shattered and the woman who had spoken so forcefully was on the verge of tears.

In an international context such a scene might not seem so extraordinary. It would be commonplace in Italy or France, where passion oils the wheels of daily communication.
In Thailand, however, such expressions of passion are uncommon. A voice raised in anger is rare and usually cause for serious concern as it can be the preliminary to a violent outburst of cathartic rage.

The point here is that the current political deadlock in Thailand is unleashing passions that I have never seen (in the past 17 years). It is unveiling divisions that I have never heard so intensely expressed. Two years after Thaksin was ousted by the military, Thailand is riven as never before and passions are rising like an angry volcano before an eruption.

In this land of the Buddhist middle path, where compromise normally rules, few now seem ready to take the step backwards from their demands that is a pre-requisite for negotiation.
The Land of Smiles is locked in an alarming logic of conflict which can perhaps only be broken, if temporarily, by royal intervention.

The Disparate Threads of the PAD

In many ways it's hard to like the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD). Its leaders spew vitriolic nationalist and often xenophobic rhetoric. Its followers wear uniform-like outfits that echo European fascism and the Village Scout movement involved in the brutal repression of student demonstrations at Thamassat University in 1976. Its defenders are armed thugs ready to club any and all opposition into bloody submission.

Viewed from the outside, as a monolith, the PAD looks like a frightening fusion of the kinds of bitterness and passions that inevitably lead to violence. After all, as PAD leader Sondhi Limthongkul has often declared, this is their 'final war'.

Yet the PAD is no monolith. It is a motley alliance of very unlikely bed fellows: Sondhi Limthongkul, the media tycooon with a grudge against Thaksin, Somsak Kosaisuk the state enterprise union leader, Chamlong Srimuang, the former Bangkok mayor, politician and activist who styles himself as a kind of latter-day Thai Ghandi. Left wing Peua Chiwit (For Life) rock stars, respected academics, police and military generals, students...all have climbed onto the PAD stage at Government House and raged against the government, often using violent and abusive language of the kind rarely heard here.

What holds them together? Why is that Thai friends I would normally portray as being on the left of the political spectrum, are fervent supporters of a movement that would more easily be defined, at least in traditional Western terms, as being on the far right?

Part of the answer, I believe, lies in their profound disappointment with Thaksin and, by extension, the political system as a whole. For many, Thaksin was given a mandate to usher in an era of reform. 'Kit Mai Thai Mai" (New Thinking and New Ways of Doing Things) was his slogan and many Thais believed it.

When Thaksin proved to be as corrupt, if not more so, than the 'dinosaur' politicians he had supposedly replaced, his erstwhile supporters felt betrayed and angry. The PAD, led most publicly by a man (Sondhi Limthongkul) whose hatred of Thaksin was well known, provided an immediate and obvious forum for the expression of these frustrations. Thais of all political persuasions could agree easily on one thing: Thaksin had let them down and somehow they needed to find a way of reducing corruption among the ruling class.

Thus the PAD gained its initial momentum by tapping into a vein of sentiment that is almost universal among Thais: politicians are corrupt, the police is corrupt, the country needs change.
But like a ball of string rolling forwards, gathering different coloured threads as it goes, the PAD has moved a very long way from its initial objective of removing Thaksin from power and picked up a number of different coloured political 'threads' along the way.

It has moved from being an apparent spontaneous political expression of frustration to a movement that looks more and more as though it is being orchestrated by powerful, yet invisible, forces who wish to facilitate wide sweeping political change. One woman told me the other day, the frustration audible in her voice, that "the PAD are untouchable. They can do whatever they want." And indeed, since their seizure and continued occupation of Government House, the PAD has appeared to be all but immune to the law.

Many PAD supporters remain with the movement out of a sense of loyalty and a feeling of belonging. The paraphernalia associated with the PAD, such as the hand clappers, the yellow scarves and bandanas, are enablers of this sense of belonging. They re-inforce the collective identity.

Many of these 'legacy' PAD supporters are not concerned with the details of the political agenda being proposed by the movement's leaders. Fundamentally, they are motivated by a desire to bring change to Thailand's political system and by a deep seated frustration at the dislocation between the nation's ostensibly modern economy and its politicians who are often caricatures of 'Third World' corruption. Many are Sino-Thai Bangkokians from the ranks of the middle class and, interestingly, many (sometimes it looks like a majority) are women. When the PAD leaders characterise the police or other figures of authority as 'animals' the crowd roar with what, to me, looks like a cathartic laughter as if such words were the expression of their own anger at the establishment.

There is another thread of PAD supporters who, in a society where conformity and respect for authority are the norm, position themselves as 'activists'. This thread is composed of those who are always going to be in opposition to established power. These are the Peua Chiwit singers, the unionists and the students who are intuitively comfortable rallying around an opposition battle cry. Strangely, this activist group overlooks the fact that the PAD's leadership is proposing a system, dubbed 'New Politics', that would see the traditional establishment reinforced through a democratic process whereby only 30% of the government would be directly elected and the remaining 70% would be appointed representatives from various sectors of society.

Indeed, it is one of the strangest paradoxes of the PAD movement that for all its anti-establishment, 'Che Guevara' type, bravado it actually seems to be proposing a reinforcement of the traditional establishment. I say this partly because I have not yet heard measures proposed by the PAD aimed at fighting corruption. Rather the PAD appears to be focused on changing the electoral system which would usher in a new set of leaders without proposing concrete steps to tackle the deeply engrained relationship between political power and corruption - whoever's hand the power may be in.

In a country where corruption has become the norm among politicians, the PAD has attracted a multi-faceted support base in Bangkok and other urban centers simply by being an advocate of change - without looking too closely to see if such change would actually be for the better.

For those in the countryside, where support for the PAD is almost non-existent, the perspective is entirely different. Rural voters are also aware that the political class is corrupt. More pragmatic than the city folk, however, the rural constituency often seems to characterise such corruption as 'normal'; behaviour that they have come to expect of the Phu Yai (Big People) in power.

With corruption being a given what remains are the results. What did Thaksin do for me? asks the rural voter. Though in reality Thaksin did little to change the lives of Thailand's rural majority, he did make a lot of promises to them and formulated policies aimed at improving their lives as virtually no politician before him had ever done.

Colour Coded Politics

In Thailand, yellow is OK. It is the colour most associated with the country's much loved King. To wear yellow is to express one's allegiance and love of the monarchy. In this Buddhist Kingdom yellow is about as safe as you can get.

Or at least it used to be.

Nowadays wearing yellow also means you might be a supporter of the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD), the anti-government movement that has occupied Government House and is baying for the 'head' of its third Prime Minister; Somchai Wongsawat (brother in law of deposed former PM, Thaksin Shinawatra). This means that if you were to meet somebody wearing red, the color of the pro-government (pro-Thaksin) United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship (UDD), you could be considered an enemy and vice versa.

And when I say 'enemy', I choose the word carefully. To the 'yellows' of the PAD, the 'reds' of the UDD are not just 'the opposition'; another political group exercising their democratic right to a difference of opinion. No. The UDD, the reds, are the enemy. They are enemies of the monarchy. And to make their point perfectly clear, the 'yellows' beat a 'red' to death in a street battle in central Bangkok on the 2nd of September.

In the politically polarised Thailand of today it has become a case of politics by colors and woe betide you if, by inadvertance, you should don the wrong color in the morning. "Put me on a pick-up and drive me down to Bangkok right now and I'll kill all those PAD people," exclaimed, casually, a farmer in a village close to Khon Kaen earlier this week. He was a 'red'.

It used to be that Thais would watch the soap opera of local politics from the sidelines; chuckling at the sometimes absurd antics of their corrupt political elite, occasionally groaning in dispair as they watched another opportunity fall prey to the greed of their voracious 'dinosaur' politicians. Like in most countries, politics between elections was largely a spectator sport.

Not any more.

Like the dye from cheap cloth that stains the rest of your wardrobe in the wash, the new colour codes of Thai politics have begun to seep into everyday life. The presence of Queen Sirikit at the funeral of the PAD riot victim Angkana Radappanyawoot recently introduced light blue, the Queen's official colour, into the gamut of colours sported by the PAD. And this alongside the black shirts already being worn by PAD members to commemorate the violence of October 7th, now known as Black October.

This leaves a section of the population, those that would rather not choose sides, wondering what to wear in the morning. White and gray are probably the safest bets, although pink (also a royal colour), green and dark blue should be just fine too. Meanwhile those supporters of the PAD who are Chinese in origin must now foreswear red, a colour the Chinese traditionally associate with prosperity and happiness.

Apart from limiting one's choice of shirts in the morning, colour coded politics has a decidedly sinister aspect. The reduction of the opposition to a simple colour conveniently obscures the nuances of political hue and tone that each of the movements actually harbour. Seeing your opponent as 'red' or 'yellow' is dehumanising. It is much easier to fight a 'red' or a 'yellow' than a fellow Thai.

Political Landscapes Change...

Khun Prasart Pangsopa (depicted above) fits the role model. He is a quiet man with an easy, friendly smile. His skin is tanned a leathery brown from endless days under a tropical sun. He wears a colourful Isan-style krama scarf wrapped around his waist. Khun Prasart looks like the archetypal Northeastern Thai farmer whose life and center of interest is far removed from the drama of Thai politics.

He is, to many here, the 'silent farmer' whose vote is purchased and whose education barely goes beyond reading and writing. He is a political pawn to be purchased and manipulated in Thailand's democratic game.

There are many millions more like Prasart. Indeed, the overwhelming majority of Thailand's population are rural folk just like him, the kind we like to buy postcards of; living in wooden houses amidst lush green paddy fields and chewing on sticky rice.

The idyll of Thailand's passive rural folk is easy to believe. These are the villagers who sell their votes and rally behind the most generous local patron.

Thailand's political landscape has been dominated by two key features: the capital Bangkok, where an educated elite sets the country's course, and the countryside where farmers, like Khun Prasart, trade their votes for a few baht and hand victory to the politicians with the deepest pockets and the most extensive patronage network.

But political landscapes change. The most significant event to have changed the political landscape in Thailand was the advent of Thaksin Shinawatra, the billionaire telecoms tycoon who embodied the aspirations of Bangkok's business class and symbolised the economic pride of Thailand as it emerged from a decade of booming growth (which came to an abrupt end in the crash of 1997). He became the hero of a nation in which success had come to be measured by the size of one's bank account.

When Thaksin ascended to power on a wave of popular support in 2001, he inherited a country where decades of development meant that almost every house in every village had television and electricity. Using well-built roads and modern media, the State could now reach into every household. Campaigns were launched reminding people of their responsibility to vote, of the evils of vote buying. Most importantly, the politicians in Bangkok were now able, more efficiently than ever, to reach deep into the countryside to deliver their message.

Thaksin was a new-style politician who no longer sought to rely solely on local patrons to secure the majority vote in the countryside. Learning the lessons of his business success and applying modern communications techniques to his political campaigns, he set about marketing himself not just to the Bangkok elites but to the country as a whole. For the first time ever, a national politician spoke directly and pointedly to the needs of the rural constituency, while maintaining his image as a champion of the middle class. He promised a CEO approach to politics, restructuring the bureaucracy and at the same time mingled happily with the farmers promising them easy credit and a raft of policies aimed at alleviating poverty.

The result was a landslide victory and a euphoric rise to power.

What followed is well known history. The same instincts which drove Thaksin to accumulate huge wealth pushed him to accumulate ever greater political powers. He placed his cronies in the independent institutions which, under a constitution promulgated in 1997, were designed to maintain checks and balances on his power. Having won the hearts and minds of both the countryside and the city, he became a kind of democratic dictator whose rule, many thought (feared even) would likely remain unchallenged for years.

In accumulating such extensive powers and by garnering the adoration of the rural majority (ensuring his success in future elections), Thaksin also began to challenge the position of Thailand's traditional establishment. His perceived arrogance, and that of his closest collaborators even came, ultimately, to be seen as a marginal threat to Thailand's much revered monarchy.

When Thaksin blithely sold his business to Temasek of Singapore and used legal loopholes to avoid paying some half a billion dollars in taxes, he committed an error of arrogance that turned his urban constituency against him and gave the traditional establishment the opportunity to have him removed.

The coup of september 2006 was the culmination of a popular urban-based movement against Thaksin led by the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD). Though the PAD's leaders were an unlikely ensemble of disgruntled right wing former business associates of Thaksin's (like Sondhi Limthongkul) and left wing labour union activists (like Somsak Kosaisuk), the movement had wide appeal, particularly among the middle class, because Thaksin's avoidance of tax and his increasing arrogance were seen as a betrayal of the trust which had been placed in him. His middle class supporters in Bangkok were furious - their passionate opposition to their one-time hero resembled, to me, the fury of a jilted lover, whose anger is in inverse proportion to his adoration.

The coup was an unimaginative return to old habits. It was like using an old tool to fix a new and different problem. The military succeeded, for a year, in putting Thailand's political tensions in the deep freeze while the traditional establishment worked on drawing up a new constitution (which was offered up in a referendum without any other alternatives, leaving people with little choice but to approve it) and on discrediting Thaksin in the hope that when new elections were held his allure (for the rural majority) would have evaporated and the Thai political landscape could return to its original form, with political power being dictated strictly from the center (read Bangkok).

Despite banning Thaksin's Thai Rak Thai party and 111 of its members from politics, the coup makers proved unable to inspire the support of the countryside nor to dismantle the aura that Thaksin had created for himself among Thailand's farmers.

Sure enough, using a nominee in the form of Samak Sundaravej, Thaksin's political establishment was returned to power in an election held in January 2008. Once again the rural vote spoke out in favor of Thaksin, flexing their democratic muscle in the face of obvious establishment disapproval. Predictably the PAD resumed its street protests, claiming (with justification) that Thaksin was ruling the country by proxy.

One might be forgiven for thinking that the situation had come full circle. Only this time the war cry of the PAD is not just for a removal of Thaksin-dominated politics but for the creation of whole new political system, one where 70% of the government would be appointed representatives of various sectors of society with the remaining 30% elected by direct suffrage. To many observers this seems strangely undemocratic for a movement that claims to advocate democracy.

The essence of the PAD's campaign is that the country's political future cannot not be left entirely to a democratic system where the majority rural constituency would always carry the day. Rural folk, many in the PAD claim, are poorly educated and simply sell their votes. It is not possible, the argument goes, to leave the country's future in their hands. The farmers will continued to be 'tricked' and 'bought' by corrupt politicians.

Meanwhile the PAD is vague about who the leaders of its 'new political system' will be and on what measures will be put in place to prevent the temptations of power resulting in further corruption.

More recently, their campaign has moved from advocating new politics to warning ominously that Thailand's monarchy is under threat from the present government's leaders and their supporters; a call to battle that resonates profoundly and dangerously in Thailand.

In years gone by it might have been easier to believe the PAD's argument that the rural vote is for sale to the highest bidder. But political landscapes change.

Thaksin Shinawatra opened the pandora's box of the rural Thai vote. Through populist policies, such as offering a million baht to every village and 30 baht healthcare, he spoke directly to the masses in the countryside, who after years of government education about their democratic rights and responsibilities, responded enthusiastically. Freshly enfranchised, and fully aware of their political power, Thailand's farmers are naturally reluctant to return to the passive idyll that made them such a malleable constituency in the past.

Thus while farmer Pengsopa may look like a typical Thai peasant, the two dimensional caricature of him is less valid than ever. "Sure people offer us money for our votes, but it's not like before," said Pengsopa in an interview I helped translate while photographing Pengsopa for the International Herald Tribune. "They used to offer us money for our votes. But last time round nobody even tried to buy our votes and even if they did I'd make my own decision. Nowadays we don't just look to the local headman, we look at the leader of the party at the national level and if we like their policies we vote for them. If they do well, we'll choose them again. If they don't we'll choose someone else."

Other farmers from the same village echoed Pengsopa's views. "It's insulting that the people in the towns look down on as ignorant," asserted one.

Gone are the days when Thailand's farmers could be counted on to simply sell their votes. Nowadays, like voters everywhere, they're looking at policy platforms and saying 'what's in it for me'.

Thailand's political landscape has been profoundly reshaped. Attempts to hammer it back into its old form through the PAD's proposed system of 'new politics' is likely to be wishful thinking.

In future Thai politicians will have to build their power base by reaching out directly to Thailand's rural majority by speaking the to the hearts and minds of men like Prasart Pengsopa.

If Friendship Be the Food of Life...Play On

Friendship surely is the food of life.

And if it is, then a recent week we spent in Sweden was a rich feast indeed.

A group of dear friends materialised in the streets of Stockholm like time travellers beamed from the blue sky.

Jesper and Nok from New York, Jim from the World, Gerhard from Everywhere, Patrik and Nasim from Stockholm, Scott and Nym from Singapore and Bangkok and Paddy and Denise from Bangkok and many others from corners of the planet too numerous to name.

And there we were. Living, breathing evidence of the global village. A close-knit network of friends who had agreed to meet in Stockholm as others might have agreed to meet at the pub around the corner.

We had gathered to celebrate the opening of a wonderful new hotel called the Lydmar which occupies a grand but unpretentious building overlooking the water in central Stockholm. We were celebrating the opening of an exhibition of photographs at the Lydmar, entitled 'Offering', by James Nachtwey. And, of course, we were celebrating our friendship, our love of life and the great fortune that we all share in being able to live it so fully.

Stockholm provided a glorious backdrop. Bathed in crisp autumnal sunshine, the city ignited our imaginations, setting our conversations alight.



Stockholm is not one of those cities that comes pre-fabricated in the imagination; like Florence or Paris. And whatever vague pre-conceived visions I had, perhaps of a dark and cold place (like London?), Stockholm surpassed them. The God of autumn turned out to greet us and Stockhholm was as seductive as ever she could be. Her trees were on fire. Her buildings glowed. The cityscape, punctuated with medieval spires, seemed positively to shimmer with beauty.

The thing about modern travel is that it really does feel like entering another dimension. We arrived in Stockholm from Bangkok in thick fog, barely able to see the tip of the wing. Then, like blinking rabbits emerging from the magician's hat, we found ourselves hugging dear friends, meandering through historic streets and sharing Persian delicacies with an opera director and a dancer.

Which reminds me. I must say something about Patrik and Nasim, the incredible couple who invited us into their home for our first two nights in Stockholm.

Patrik (one of Jesper's oldest friends), is the perfect gentlemen: kind, reassuring and a paragon of modesty. He is a cool Swedish lake, whose calm surface belies the depth and wonders which lie beneath. A classical dancer by training, Patrik now teaches directors how to direct opera; when he is not directing one himself. And in his spare time, which cannot be many hours of the day, he builds websites working happily with indecipherable code.



Nasim, the fiery counterpoint to calm Patrik, is perfect in her petite beauty and effervescent hospitality. Persian, from Iran, Nasim is all movement, sound and life. Her large almond eyes drink in the world around her, dancing from face to face with impish delight.



To complement these great characters are their children, Tiam (9 months) and Keana (3 years), whose beauty mirrors that of their parents and whose glittering personalities, full of the innocent joy of childhood, held their inevitable audience spellbound.

Playing back the memories of Stockholm, I have the impression of an incredibly diverse mosaic of moments and emotions. It seems barely possible that so much life could have been squeezed into so few days.

It seems incredible, too, that so much Champagne (thanks to Pelle) could have been drunk in so few days too!

One experience flowed seamlessly into another. From standing listening to Jim opening his exhibition and blessing the Buddha which had been carried from Bangkok to preside over it, to jiggling in fits of laughter while belly dancing with Nasim, to the lazy strolls and the endless, endless food.

For me the trip to Stockholm was also something of a pilgrimage to the roots of a great friendship. Jesper has long talked of his family in Sweden, of summers in Stockholm and of his sister, Lisa, and brother-in-law Jonas's sauna boat.



We spent two unforgettable afternoons at Lisa and Jonas's 18th century farmhouse. Just 15 minutes drive from Stockholm, we found ourselves surrounded by forest, looking out over a lake. Another time warp: out of the cosmopolitan city and into a more traditional Swedish setting - with handpainted wall paper, burnished wooden floors and and an exquisitely harmonious and tasteful interior that conjured up a flavour of the past while retaining a hint of the contemporary.

What I will perhaps most remember, though, is the Sauna boat - if only for the bracing cold of the water that brands itself on the memory.



What a perfect concept. Row out to a floating pine cabin. Light the stove and row back to a warm kitchen. Sip wine, chat and laugh for 40 minutes then row back out again.



By this time the light was already failing and the temperature dropping. The lake was turning from shades of blue to black. The horizon was tinged with the purple of dusk, reaching slowly upwards like ink spreading from a blot.

On the last afternoon, seven of us clambered onto the sauna boat, stripped down in the dusk light and dashed into the steam of the sauna room. Then, one by one, screaming, laughing we plunged headlong, feet first, however we could into the icy waters, applauded by those brave enough to stand in the cold and watch and photographed for posterity, as everything must be.



It is in those moments of sheer thoughtless abandon, when your body penetrates the icy water and your lungs push out an involuntary scream, that you feel most definitely, most fundamentally, alive. We emerged dripping and giggling from the icy ordeal all understanding what it means to be truly refreshed. A wonderful, wonderful experience.

Finally, in writing this, and casting it into the blogosphere like a virtual message in a bottle, what I feel most I should say is thank you.

Thank you to Pelle Lydmar, the Ldymar's owner who gave us all the unique privilege of enjoying his incredible hospitality in the incredible context of his brand new hotel. Thank you to Thomas Nordanstad for germinating the idea of an exhibition which provided the catalyst for bringing us to Stockholm. Thank you to Jim for inspiring us through his intense, beautiful and moving imagery. Thank you to Jesper for inviting us into his Stockholm universe.

This, for me, is the food of life.