Between Rage and Reason

Thai Prime Minister Aphisit Vejajiva - Oxford-educated, soft-spoken, well meaning - is a reasonable man.

"Elections must be held under common rules and genuine calm. We have to listen to other people's voices, not just the protesters’," he announced, politely, as tens of thousands of protesters clamoured for his ouster.

Reasonable words in unreasonable times. Further evidence, perhaps, of Aphisit's apparent inability to connect with Thailand's majority.

Passion, anger, frustration and, at the fringes, simmering hatred is the fuel driving the red shirt protesters currently thronging Bangkok’s streets.

In a macabre publicity stunt, the ‘reds’ drew blood from thousands of supporters only to spill it symbolically onto the street in front of Government House and Aphisit’s residence. If nothing else, the gesture was a measure of the depth of emotion behind the current unrest

Amused, bemused, confused and perhaps a little repulsed by all of this, we are left to wonder what this latest episode in Thailand’s political saga really means and how it fits into the broader picture of this nation's development.

We struggle to untangle the knotted and multiple roots of the current crisis. On the one hand there is clearly growing unease in the twilight of King Bhumipol’s reign. On the other there is an evident power struggle between the country’s elites, already jockeying for position in a post Bhumipol era.

As one ponders the significance of the various color-coded factions and as one tries to unravel the motives of protesters across the political spectrum, it is easy to lose sight of a more fundamental reality: that of the glaring social and economic disparity separating Thailand’s urban middle-class from the rest of the population.

The current conflict and the various rounds of unrest it has generated are not isolated blips in the otherwise hum drum routine of a stable and established democracy. They are mounting evidence of a profound shift in Thailand’s political landscape, of seismic social rumblings that may herald the transformation of that very landscape.

For decades Thai politics defied the logic that democracy is designed to promote: that the majority should elect those it believes will serve its interests.

Thailand’s rural majority were like sheep to be herded in this direction or that by wealthy urban-based politicians. A few well-placed roads, a well paid local ally and, typically, a bundle of bank notes was the magic recipe for a politician in pursuit of rural votes.

During Thailand's export-led boom in the nineties, the already marked divide between the cities and the countryside grew - to a point where Bangkok seemed so far removed from the rest of Thailand that it felt like another country.

Flush with the vast wealth accumulated as a result of Thailand’s economic ‘miracle’, Thailand’s leaders could have shared the spoils and poured cash into the development of the countryside, especially in qualitative areas like education.

To do so, however, the elite needed to see the countryside as more than just a pool of votes or a source of cheap labour and rice. Opportunities for broad, ‘deep’ development were largely ignored. The rich grew richer and better educated while the poor, despite seeing some benefits trickle down, remained vastly less fortunate.

The basic infrastructure of a modern state was nevertheless installed. Schools were built, roads were laid, health centers were opened and literacy rates were raised to close to 100%.

An efficient and accessible communications network was established, allowing information to pass freely. By the beginning of the millennium it seemed as though almost every home had a television, a fridge, a motorcycle and a phone.

Parliamentary debates were televised and almost everyone could read a newspaper. Government information campaigns taught rural folk about democratic values and exhorted them not to sell their votes. Even the poorest Thais seemed politically engaged. A more authentic democratic culture was beginning to take root.

It is at this point that Thaksin Shinawatra’s political star began to rise. A fabulously successful telecoms magnate, he quickly became a poster boy for the turbo-charged growth of the nineties and an icon of modernity for the materialist aspirations of most Thais.

He was smart, he was technologically savvy, he was Sino-Thai and he knew how to communicate. The middle classes saw him as their man. The rural masses found in him an inspiring example and a leader who showed an interest in their concerns like none before him.

Ever the businessman, Thaksin realized that there was a ‘market’ to be grabbed: that of the now educated, well-informed rural voters who had stood on the sidelines of Thailand’s boom; mere pawns in the power games being played out in Bangkok. Thaksin understood that these voters were in search of a voice and that they could carry him to power.

In reaching out to the poor, particularly in the rural north and northeast, and in directly addressing their concerns, Thaksin emerged as a consummate populist. He found himself riding a wave of support which swept him into office in 2001.

The rest, as they say, is history. It quickly became clear that Thaksin, instead of furthering the cause of democracy, intended to use his majority as a powerbase to actually dismantle the democratic institutions put in place by the 1997 constitution. He became an 'illiberal' democrat and a textbook example of how democracy can go awry when the institutions designed to protect it are weak enough to be subverted.

But if Thaksin sought to bring the rural majority into the political arena by speaking to them directly from the center of power, he did not perhaps envisage the threat that this political shift would represent to the traditional establishment. Nor how they would ultimately react.

In 2006, on the cusp of angry mass demonstrations sparked by Thaksin’s evasion of tax payments on his sale of the Shinawatra Corporation to Singapore’s Temasek group, the military stepped in - pushing Thaksin into exile and throwing their support firmly behind the royalist 'yellows' of the People Alliance for Democracy (PAD).

For a while it seemed as if order had been restored and that business as usual could continue.

But the ground had already shifted. The genie of populist politics was out of the bottle. The polarisation of Thai politics had begun. Thaksin, for his part, had woken the ‘sleeping’ masses; giving them a figurehead leader of almost cult-like status, a benefactor and newfound confidence.

He had delivered the realization that, in democratic terms, the rural majority could now exercise power by electing national level leaders prepared to tip the balance of opportunity back in their favour.

While Thaksin may have sought rural support for his own political ends, once the ‘train’ of populism had left the station he had little choice but to ride on it. By his regular injections of funds and inflammatory speeches delivered via video-link from exile, Thaksin ensured that the ‘red’ movement maintained its momentum.

It is surely one of darkest ironies of Thai politics, however, that an illiberal businessman who accumulated millions through near monopolistic domination of the mobile telecoms market should become a hero for the rural masses from whom he is so far removed.

Thaksin did not create the polarisation which characterises Thailand's political landscape today, but he did, perhaps inadvertantly, shine a spotlight on Thailand's divide and in so doing lit the fires of discontent which wrack the country today.

Though it is often portrayed as hollow vehicle for political posturing manipulated by and for Thaksin Shinawatra, the red movement, whose chosen colour poignantly echoes historic communist movements in the region, has roots that go much deeper. It represents a strong and persistent political wind that will only blow harder for as long as those who have traditionally held power continue to shelter behind military might while expressing their evident disdain for the rural masses.

For even if the reds do fade back into the countryside, Aphisit and his mainly urban middle class supporters should not imagine that their problems are over. Thailand will remain divided and the reds will return again and again until they see changes that begin to address their concerns.

The most conciliatory gesture Aphisit could make would be to hold free and fair elections -the principal demand of the red shirts today. This would be eminently reasonable since Aphisit did not face the ballot box before taking office and is widely perceived as a front-man for the army and traditional establishment interests.

But herein lies the conundrum which leaves Thai politics on such unstable ground and which makes it almost impossible to see a clear path out of the current impasse.

For Thailand to change and for new openness to permeate the political system, the country needs new leaders infused with a fresh vision and sufficient legitimacy to impose change. Thailand needs leadership capable of overcoming the middle classes’ fear of the rural majority, leadership capable of ushering in a new political dawn rooted in an ideology of broad national development, inclusion and genuine equality.

Given the cast of characters currently dominating Thailand’s political scene, it is hard to see where such a leader might be found.

With no clear indication as to which turn the drama will take next, one can only hope that the Thais’ rare genius for compromise and their penchant for comfort over strife will guide them, between rage and reason, towards a peaceful solution to the current conflict. One that will create the conditions whereby acceptable levels of political, social and economic opportunity can be enjoyed by all.