Where Did All The Good Times Go?

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

After all Thailand was a lauded Asian 'tiger' - an economic powerhouse poised to leap confidently towards a prosperous future.

Its democracy stood like an island of freedom amidst neighbouring nations where a combination of poverty, totalitarianism and intolerance had stifled political development.

Thailand, with its picture postcard beaches, smiling locals and carefully nurtured exotism was the global Shangri-la for tourism; a place where the mysterious East could be discovered in comfort and safety.

On the surface, Thailand looked golden.

It was dynamic, diverse and modern. And despite obvious inequalities its society, underpinned by a cultural acceptance of hierarchy, looked impressively stable. The world marveled at how patient, how tolerant and how good-natured Thais were.

Today we marvel at how a nation endowed with such a modern State, inhabited by such genteel and easy-going people, could unravel so fast. The tolerant Thailand of yore now stands divided, daggers drawn, teetering on the brink of deadly, and possibly widespread, civil unrest.

What went wrong? Was it all an illusion?

Part of the answer lies in Thailand's 'live for the present' mentality. When other Asian nations, perhaps less fun-loving and perhaps less free, were diligently planning for the future, investing heavily in education for example, Thailand was partying.

In the 1990s when its economy was growing at dizzying rates, Thailand was producing fewer doctors and engineers per capita than fellow 'tiger' economies such as Malaysia, Taiwan, South Korea or Singapore. This education gap was to cost Thailand its competitive edge as cheaper labour in countries like Vietnam and China began to attract investors.

In this nation of historic abundance, where there has always been rice in the fields, fruit in the trees and fish in the rivers, few worried about what the future might hold. Indeed part of Thailand's unique genius has been its ability, through charm, patience and guile, to always muddle through.

So it was that while the economy boomed the good times rolled. Growth was driven by investors seeking a cheap and amenable labour force, by millions of Thais awaking to the 'joys' of consumerism and by tourists pouring their hard-earned holiday dollars into the economy.

The mantra was spend, spend, spend - although admittedly most of the spending was done by a relatively small urban-based elite.

At one point Thailand was Mercedes Benz' largest market outside of Germany. University students in Bangkok could be seen pulling up to classes in BMWs. Shopping malls, high class hotels and gleaming office towers mushroomed throughout the capital.

The Asian economic crash of 1997, which began in Thailand, was a rude awakening. For a moment the country paused to catch its breath. There was a talk of a need for more emaphasis on spiritual values, concern that society had become too materialist. Many Thais returned to the temples to rediscover Buddhism, nominally the religion of 90% of the population.

There was also a realisation that the appearances of a modern democracy had perhaps been an illusion. That the euphoria of economic success and the inebriation of materialism had masked serious systemic problems.

Where a legal system should have stood, the Thais found widespread corruption. Where democracy should have stood, the Thais found widespread vote-buying. Where the independent regulatory controls needed to reign in a fast growing and complex modern polity should have been there was nepotism and self-interest.

In September 1997, in an optimistic moment of sobriety after the excesses of gravity-defying growth, Thailand voted on a new constitution. It had been drawn up as a result of broad popular consultation and was intended to encourage the neutral institutions needed to stabilise its fragile democracy. It was to have been the cornerstone of a new democratic era that would carry Thailand into the future.

Demonstrating the patience and good nature for which it had become famous, Thailand moved quickly beyond the crisis of 1997, accepting its consequences with astounding stoicism and equanimity. Despite the hardships prompted by the crash, Thailand's fabled social stability held firm.

Enter Thaksin Shinawatra. A businessman who built a fortune on the back of the mobile telecommunications boom, Thaksin sought to parlay his business success into a political career. Despite fumbling beginnings, he quickly emerged as a popular figure, playing the system but casting himself in the role of a modern politician - so rich that he didn't need to be corrupt.

A self-made billionaire whose lavish lifestyle embodied what many Thais aspired to, much of Thaksin's appeal lay in what he represented. He was living evidence of what could be achieved. In contrast to the dowdy bureaucrats, corrupt politicians and out-dated generals who had hitherto held sway in Thailand, Thaksin offered new dynamism, new hope - an embodiment of what modern Thailand should be.

Thaksin swept to power in 2001 with a landslide victory at the polls. Like no other politician before him, he had modernised the political game using spin and sophisticated communications to 'market' his policies to prospective voters.

He had garnered widespread support from Thailand's middle class who saw themselves reflected in Thaksin's CEO style and his Sino-Thai features. Most importantly, however, Thaksin won massive support from the countryside to whom he promised a million baht for each village, debt forgiveness and a 30-baht healthcare scheme.

Crucially, and unlike his predecessors, Thaksin's campaign had reached out directly to the rural poor, partially short-circuiting local patrons who had traditionally been power brokers for national level leaders based in Bangkok.

Thaksin understood that in the post 1997 era, where talk was of a new democratic dawn and where bill boards warned people that to sell their votes was to sell the nation, he needed to win the hearts and minds of the majority.

Thaksin did so by shining a spotlight on issues that had long been sources of frustration in the countryside, prompting a historic social awakening that has had seismic consequences for Thai politics.

In speaking to rural Thailand as a united constituency and in casting himself in the role of their saviour, Thaksin single handedly upended the social equilibrium which had allowed Thailand's economy to boom while the gap between rich and the poor grew wider.

The social shift he provoked is echoed today through the 'class warfare' rhetoric of the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship (UDD), known as the Red Shirts, who currently occupy one of the most prestigious commercial quarters of the capital and are defiant in the face of establishment power.

But if Thaksin galvanised Thailand's rural majority, he also polarised the nation as a whole.

Once in power Thaksin used his vast majority to exploit the nascent institutional checks and balances provided for in the 1997 constitution. He became increasingly intolerant and increasingly corrupt, often blatantly blurring the lines between the use of State power and his own business interests.

Disillusioned by his ostentatious corruption, irked by his growing intolerance of dissent and concerned by his populism, the urban middle class, whose core resides in Bangkok, became critical of their erstwhile hero.

Thaksin's seemingly limitless ego was even perceived as a challenge to Thailand's revered monarchy, sparking concerns that he harboured a thinly veiled ambition to turn Thailand into a republic.

Thaksin's evasion of tax payments on the sale of his Shin Corp to Singapore's Temasek Group in January 2006 was the last straw. Spurred on by media tycoon Sondhi Limthongkul and a coterie of academics, trade unionists and politicians, small groups of protesters began to gather regularly and in increasing numbers in Bangkok's Lumpini Park. Underscoring their allegiance to the monarchy, the protesters chose to wear royal yellow.

This was the beginning of the yellow shirt movement (which later became the People's Alliance for Democracy or PAD), and of Thailand's much documented colour coded politics.

It was also the beginning of a concerted movement to remove Thaksin from political power: a campaign which saw tens of thousands of yellow shirt protesters in the streets of Bangkok. These demonstrations culminated, in September 2006, in a military coup that toppled Thaksin's government while he was on a trip to New York.

Proponents of the 2006 coup claim that Thaksin's hold on State power had become a parliamentary dictatorship. They no longer felt the judicial system could be relied on to act against him. The huge anti-Thaksin demonstrations in the weeks leading up to the coup seemed evidence enough that his removal, by whatever means, was legitimate.

Critics counter that by stepping into the fray the military triggered a cycle of conflict that has pushed Thailand outside the framework of normal democratic process and to the brink of civil war. By choosing to act outside the law in removing Thaksin, the military de-legitimised the establishment they were acting to defend and rewound Thailand's political development by decades.

In the aftermath of the coup, and under the aegis of a military junta, a new constitution was drawn up and approved in a half-hearted referendum in 2007. The charter included measures to appoint half the nation's Senators and an amnesty for those behind the coup. Unlike the 1997 constitution, which had encouraged public participation, criticism of the new charter was banned.

The 2007 constitution aimed to limit executive political power and strengthen the judiaciary. But it was too little too late for Thailand's already moribund and fragmented system.

Far from being neutral, the judiciary was already viewed as a tool through which the establishment could exercise political power. In September 2008, for example, the constitutional court forced elected Prime Minister Samak Sundaravej, widely viewed as a proxy for Thaksin, to step down because he had appeared in a cooking show - a minor misdemeanour that was seen as a political pretext for his removal.

In the past four years, littered with court cases, protests and counter protests, there has been much talk of right and wrong as both sides argue for the moral high ground.

Thaksin's supporters legitimise his abuses of power by pointing to his putative democratic mandate and to the double-standards they see in Thailand's judicial system. Claiming corruption to be a systemic reality in Thai politics, they also argue that Thaksin's transgressions were little different from those of his predecessors or his opponents.

Herein lies the crux of Thailand's current woes. On both sides of the divide there is little or no faith in the neutrality of the political system. Corruption is a given, impartiality a vague chimera.

On both sides there are genuine concerns and grievances. On both sides there are good folk who want the best for the country. And on both sides there are ruthless thugs, who are armed and dangerous.

In the pre-Thaksin era Thailand's democracy was dominated by only one powerful constituency; namely the urban middle class. The system could function because power was being contested for by a single, if fractious and corrupt, group.

Violent disputes when they occasionally erupted were adjudicated by King Bhumipol, the only person with enough authority and legitimacy to restore order when political tensions boiled over.

In awakening the rural constituency, and by framing his claim to power in purely democratic terms, Thaksin destabilised this imperfect equilibrium, a situation that has been further exercabated by the fact that Thailand's King is now in failing health and apparently no longer able to fulfill his traditional role of arbiter.

In the absence of rules and of any independent body to call opposing sides to reason, Thailand's democracy has been reduced to a raw and increasingly violent tussle for control of State power.

Unbound by law and without a neutral leader to guide them through this crisis, the Thais, now faced by the spectre of bloody civil conflict, must find the solution within themselves.

For if this is crisis has been a rude awakening, if it has thrown into view the darker sides of this nation, it should also now be seen as an opportunity for the Thais to prove to the world that the charm, generosity, patience, tolerance and even compassion for which this nation has become renowned were not an illusion.