Thailand : The Thailand2009.blogspot.com as blog about Thailand

Table of Contents in The Thailand2009.blogspot.com

2008-03-19T20:34:00.000-07:00

#Cleansing democracy of socialism
#We Do Not Forget the 6 October
#Sewage Sludge as Fertilizer in Soybean Production
#Intertextuality as Discourse Strategy:The Case of ...
#Alienated Life : Socio-Economic Characteristics of...
#Empirical Evidence of Network Externality of Thail...
#Sufficiency Economy is Philosophy or Economy Syste...
#Confronting the Military in Thailand
#Thailand's Trouble with Islamists
#Thaksin Ups the Ante for Thailand's Generals
#The Philosophy of Sufficiency Economy
#Thailand
#Crimes Committed by the State: Transition in Crisi...
#Hinggil sa Pulitika ng Pangangalagang Pangkalikasa...
#The Pondok and the Madrasah in Patani
#On the Horns of a Dilemma
#Constraints on People's Participation in Forest Ma...
#Masalah dalam Penulisan Sejarah Thailand Masa Kini...
#Penelitian Mengenai Trafficking Manusia di Daratan...
#Bagong Pananaliksik sa Pagtatrapik sa Tao sa Punon...
#Will the Mekong Survive Globalization?
#Democratization in Thailand: Grappling with Realit...
#Mga Suliranin sa Nasyonalistang Historiograpiyang ...
#Recent Research on Human Trafficking in Mainland S...
#“Community Forest” and Thai Rural Society
#On the Politics of Nature Conservation in Thailand...
#On Knowledge, the Nation, and Universals
#Ties of Brotherhood: Cultural Roots of Southern Th...
#Pemahaman Terhadap Situasi di Thailand selatan Mel...
#Yunnanese Muslims along the Northern Thai Border
#Pag-unawa sa Kalagayan sa Timog bilang “Pag-aalsan...
#Provincializing Thai Politics
#Cinematic Narratives in Hero: Primordial Father an...
#The Last Samurai: Diversity issues through a Buddh...
#Thailand-Cambodia :A Love-Hate Relationship
#Understanding the Situation in the South as a “Mil...
#The Thai Cultural Constitution
#Problems in Contemporary Thai Nationalist Historio...
#History in the Remaking
#The Kingdom of Thailand
#Songkran Adventure: Thailand's New Year Water Fest...
#History of Thailand since 1973:Democracy
#History of Thailand since 1973:The Prem era
#History of Thailand since 1973:A return to militar...
#History of Thailand since 1973:Revolution
#The 1973 democracy movement
#The history of Thailand from 1932 to 1973 :Postwar...
#World War II : The history of Thailand from 1932 t...
#The pursuit of nationalism in The history of Thail...
#Internal conflict in history of Thailand from 1932...
#History of Thailand (1932-1973)
#Bangkok period
#Thonburi period
#History of Thailand (1768-1932)
#The final phase of The kingdom of Ayutthaya
#Contacts with the West of The kingdom of Ayutthaya...
#Economic development of The kingdom of Ayutthaya
#Social and political development in The kingdom of...
#Thai kingship in The kingdom of Ayutthaya
#The kingdom of Ayutthaya
#Lanna
#Sukhothai Kingdom
#History Thai
#thailand

Cleansing democracy of socialism

2007-07-03T03:13:00.000-07:00

Cleansing democracy of socialism

Crushing the Thai Left on the 6th Oct 1976 and the consequences for present day politics
(Paper presented at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, September 2001
บทความนำเสนอที่ S.O.A.S. มหาวิทยาลัยลอนดอน กันยายน ๒๕๔๔)

Assistant Professor Ji Giles Ungpakorn
Faculty of Political Science, Chulalongkorn University,
Bangkok 10330, Thailand.
(Secretary of The 6th October 1976 Fact Finding Committee)
E-mail: Giles.U@Chula.ac.th

Abstract

On the morning of 6th October 1976, Thai uniformed police, alongside armed semi-fascist thugs, crushed the student movement in Thailand. This brutal state crime was supported, either directly or indirectly, by all sections of the Thai ruling elite. Their aim was not so much the crushing of the young parliamentary democracy, which had arisen after the mass popular uprising three years earlier, but the destruction of the growing socialist movement throughout the country. This was achieved in the long term also by the subsequent collapse of the stalinist Communist Party of Thailand. This destruction of the left came not only in organisational form, but also in terms of the present collective historical memory about the Thai left. The results of “cleansing democracy of socialism” can be seen in the present corrupt and money dominated system of Thai parliamentary politics. Yet, the impact of the Asian Economic Crisis and a whole new generation of people with little knowledge of the 1970s, means that socialism may yet creep back into Thai democracy. The Populist policies of the new Thai Ruk Thai government may be an indication of social pressure from below and the re-emergence of class-based politics.

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Crushing the Left in 1976

The received wisdom in Thai society states that “socialism is an alien creed, not popular with Thais”. Yet there was a time when a significant proportion of the population openly supported socialist ideas. In the General Elections of January 1975, three left-wing parties, The Socialist Party of Thailand, The Socialist Front and New Force Party won a total of two and a half million votes or 14.4% of the total vote (Morrell & Samudavanija 1981; 265). In addition to this, the ideological influence of the illegal Communist Party of Thailand was particularly significant among young students, trade unionists and farmer-activists. In present day Thai politics all political parties are allied to capital and business and even the memory of 1970s radicalism seems to have been eradicated. How did this happen?

In the early hours of 6th October 1976, Thai uniformed police, stationed in the grounds of the National Museum, next door to Thammasat University, destroyed a peaceful gathering of students and working people on the university campus under a hail of relentless automatic fire . At the same time a large gang of ultra-right-wing “informal forces”, known as the Village Scouts, Krating-Daeng and Nawapon, indulged in an orgy of violence and brutality towards anyone near the front entrance of the university. Students and their supporters were dragged out of the university and hung from the trees around Sanam Luang; others were burnt alive in front of the Ministry of “Justice” while the mob danced round the flames. Women and men, dead or alive, were subjected to the utmost degrading and violent behaviour. One woman had a piece of wood shoved up her vagina. Village Scouts dragged dead and dying students from the front of the campus and dumped them on the road, where they were finished-off. A young man plunged a sharp wooden spike into the corpses while a boy urinated over them. Not only did the state’s “forces of law and order” do nothing to halt this violence, some uniformed members of the police force were filmed cheering-on the crowd.

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We Do Not Forget the 6 October

2007-07-03T03:10:00.000-07:00

We Do Not Forget the 6 October

The 1996 Commemoration of the October 1976 Massacre in Bangkok
Presented at the workshop on 'Imagining the Past, Remembering the Future'
Cebu, the Philippines, March 8-10, 2001
Thongchai Winichakul
University of Wisconsin-Madison

On the morning of 6 October 1996, a symbolic cremation was held at the soccer field inside Thammasat University in Bangkok for over forty people who were killed in the massacre at the same place twenty years earlier. After the massacre, a little over half of that number were identified and claimed by their families, presumably for proper cremations. Nobody knew the whereabouts of the rest since the day they died. The cremation was only symbolic because no corpse was actually cremated. Each of them was represented in a simple, undecorated sheet of paper with his or her name written on it. All of them were put in an urn – the kind that was normally reserved for people of high status -- that was elevated on top of a big platform on one curve of the soccer field. Some pictures of the identified ones were put on that platform for people to pay respect. But most had no picture, except the ones of what happened to them in the massacre. Yet, all were honored as individuals who had faces, bodies, names, and families like everybody else in the world, but whose lives ended abruptly on the Wednesday morning of the 6 October 1976.

The symbolic cremation was performed according to the Buddhist tradition. In addition, spiritual leaders of other faiths also provided services. Many respected civic leaders delivered speeches. Then a modified Buddhist ritual was “re-invented”. About fifty Buddhist monks and nuns presented at the event led a quiet walk anti-clockwise three times around the soccer field. Everybody at the cremation participated, led by those who carried wreaths and flowers in dedication to the fallen heroes and heroines. In the middle of the field, a small platform was a set up for a huge gong. The sound of the gong, the very low pitch and its echo, was the only noise accompanied the walk. It was a Dhamma walk, a form of meditation and merit-making, during which participants were instructed to consider the truth of life and death. After the walk, everybody paid the final respect to all “bodies” in the urn. We put paper flowers for the death underneath the urn, as we normally do in a normal cremation at a Buddhist temple. We prayed for them one last time. At that moment, the reality struck very hard on me. Most of them never got cremated properly after their death, let alone any other forms of respect for humanity. It took twenty years to have them cremated properly in public, from the place where their lives were unjustly cut short. In a Buddhist country where compassion and kindness are said to be abundant, twenty years was such a cruelly...long time.

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Sewage Sludge as Fertilizer in Soybean Production

2007-06-30T03:07:00.001-07:00

by
Tawadchai Suppadit
The Graduate Program in Environmental Management, School of Social Development and Environment, National Institute of Development
Administration, Bangkapi, Bangkok 10240, Thailand

This research sought to study the growth, yield, yield components, seed quality, including nutrient and heavy metal content of soybean cultivar Chiang Mai 60 (CM. 60) by using sewage sludge from domestic wastewater treatment as fertilizer. The experiment used a completely randomized design, divided in 6 treatments with 4 replications and was conducted from February to June, 2004. Sewage sludge was mixed with soil at the rate of 5, 10, 15
and 20% by weight, and chemical fertilizer (12-24-12) was applied at the rate of 10 grams/basin.

The results showed that soybean growth, yield, yield components, seed quality, protein and lipid were significant (P<0.05), showing the best potential productivity at 5% by weight and being better than chemical fertilizer. The residues of heavy metals (lead, cadmium and mercury) accumulated in leaves and seeds, including in soil before and after the study were also significant (P<0.05) related to the quantity of sewage sludge used. Soil nutrients of all treatments were also significant (P<0.05). The data varied similarly to the residues of heavy metals. The replacement of sewage sludge for chemical fertilizer in plant production including soybean could be as a nutrient source. However, it must used in an appropriate rate. Moreover that, it should not be used in plants for human and animal consumption because heavy metals may accumulate in plant products.

Key words : nutrient, potential productivity, heavy metal

Introduction
The extensive communities and industrial developments continue to cause environmental problems from amounts of water waste and pollutions in Thailand (Suppadit, 2003). Domestic wastewater is one of these problems which is related to community growth and population increase. Water pollution is caused by wastewater discharge or leakage, or discharge without control and treatment. In the future, clean water for consumption may not be available in Thailand (Suppadit, 2004). Therefore, the Thailand government tries to improve water quality with the proper operation of wastewater treatment systems. The major aim of wastewater treatment is to remove as much as possible suspended solids before the remaining water is discharged back to the environment. After treatment, sludge content is about 60.0 grams/person/day (Tunnukit, 1999) which differs in type, characteristics, and composition depending on water utilization activities of these communities (Chawsithiwong, 2000). Sludge is composed of organic compounds, nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium at levels of 50.0-80.0, 2.50-5.00, 1.50-2.00, and 0.020-0.500 percent/dry weight, respectively (Suntornvongsagul, 1994). At present management sewage sludge involves discharging it to public lands (Suppadit, 2004) which still has many problems for environment. A new concept for sewage sludge management involves its use as a fertilizer for crop production, including field and vegetable crops (Sermviriyakul, 2004). This study sought to apply sewage sludge to replace chemical fertilizers. This method may decrease the costs of soybean production, improve the environmental health and safety in long-term period and provide evidence for sewage sludge management in a community.

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Intertextuality as Discourse Strategy:The Case of No-Confidence Debates in Thailand

2007-06-29T23:40:00.001-07:00

by
Savitri Gadavanij
School of Language and Communication, National Institute of Development Administration

The discourse of Thai parliamentary no-confidence debates is intended to be formal in nature, and is defined as such by the constitution and relevant parliamentary regulations. However, the reality of this ‘parliamentary’ discourse does not always meet this idea. There is evidence of mixed genres and the combination of the language user’s (henceforth S) voice and other’s throughout the discourse of the debate. The combination of genres and voices in the discourse represents two levels of intertextuality (Chouliaraki and Fairclough, 1999 : 49).

This paper argues that intertextuality is part of the in-built structure of the no-confidence debate discourse which operates in the face of three competing conjunctures: the debate’s purpose, its multiple audiences and its code of behaviour. Intertextuality reflects the struggle of the members of the Thai parliament ot balance three purposes: the desire of highly partisan debaters to cause maximum damage to the opposing side, there need to seek public support and the need to stay within the parliamentary codes of behaviour. In this light, intertextuality can be seen as a strategy enabling MPs to produce a kind of discourse that can serve these competing social and political purposes, and to do so within the constraints of its three conjunctures.

Introduction
This paper tries to analyse the role of intertextuality in Thai no-confidence debate discourse. It adopts
Chouliaraki and Fairclough’s 2-level definition of intertextuality; the combination of genre and the combination of voices within the discourse. It argues that this can be used as a strategy to produce the most effective discourse within that particular context. This hypothesis is based on the concept of genre as ‘a socially ratified way of using language in connection with a particular social practice’ (Fairclough, 1995 : 14) such as interview genre, narrative genre, parliamentary genre and the concept of voice as an indication of who the participants of the discourse are and what identity they assume. This paper adopts discourse analysis’s assumption that language has dialectical relationship with the society. Therefore, since genre and voice are the textual representation of the interface between
discourse and society, the changing articulation of genre and the use of more than one voice may have the potential to redefine the context within which the discourse takes place. In this light, it can also be seen as a discourse strategy.

We begin section 2 with some background on Thai no-confidence debates to enable the reader to appreciate the role of these debaters within Thai society. Also we move on to the linguistic literature in an attempt to define the term intertextuality. Section 3 describes the data used in the analysis and the scope of our study. Section 4 to Section 6 are the intertextual analysis. We adopt Chouliaraki and Fairclough’s Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) framework (Chouliaraki and Fairclough, 1999 : 60) to analyse no-confidence debates discourse. This framework is used in order to detect intertextuality in the discourse and how it works. The analytical framework starts with the analysis of conjunctures in Section 4, the analysis of the relevant social practices in Section 5 and the analysis of the discourse in Section 6. The overall outcome of the CDA analysis is discussed in Section 7.

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Alienated Life : Socio-Economic Characteristics of The Ultra Poor in Thailand

2007-06-29T23:38:00.001-07:00

by
Medhi Krongkaew
Professor of Economics, School of Development Economics, NIDA, Bangkok, Thailand. I wish to thank the Thailand Research Fund (TRF)
in providing generous financial support 10 me as part of its TRF Senior Fellowship. This has enabled me to engage several of my friends and
colleagues in four regional universities to carry out this research on Ultra Poverty in the four regions of Thailand. This paper only highlights
few findings of each region. For that, I may have missed some important points that regional researchers would have given their stronger emphasis.
I, therefore, take full responsibility for its errors and shortcomings.

Introduction
One of the success stories about economic development of Thailand in the past 20 years is its record of
continuous reduction in the incidence of poverty defined as the proportion of Thai population having income lower than a designated ‘poverty line’. During the ‘economic boom’ periods in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the poverty incidence throughout the country fell so rapidly that, statistically, the incidence of some region (i.e. Bangkok) had approached zero, prompting some researchers to revise the poverty line upward to reflect the changes in population structure, nutritional requirements, consumption patterns, and prices.3 Then the crisis hit in 1997. As a result of a combination of various factors including mismanagement in the financial sectors, incorrect exchange rate and international finance policies, and fall in export earnings, Thailand lost most of its foreign reserves and was forced
to float its currency, which brought about massive capital outflows with ensuing negative effects on domestic financial, employment and general economic conditions. Companies went bankrupt, jobs lost, unemployment increased, and the average income of the Thai people declined. Between 1996 and 2000, the incidence of poverty has increased from 11.5 per cent in 1996 to 13.0 in 1998 to 15.9 in 1999, and finally to 15.0 in 2000.4 This level of poverty is roughly equivalent to the situation in 1995. In a word, Thailand has already lost 5 years of its economic development. If economic difficulties continue, the development and welfare losses can even be greater.

Yet, there is at least one group of the Thai population who are strangely relatively unaffected by this crisis. But the main reason for this is none other than the fact that they were not so much affected by the rapid economic growth that we have alluded to earlier in the first place either. Their lives have been practically alienated from the rest of the population for as long as they could remember. These are the ‘Ultra Poor’ of Thailand who live in the bottom rung of the Thai society, and seem to have always remained there. That is why a new word in Thai is coined to describe these people. We call them, in Thai, คนยากจนดักดาน(kon yak jon dak darn) of which ‘Ultra Poor’ or ‘Hard Core Poor’ is a close description.

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Empirical Evidence of Network Externality of Thailand’s Telephone System

2007-06-29T23:35:00.000-07:00

by
Pipat Lueprasitsakul
School of Public Administration, National Institute of Development Administration.

Introduction

Telecommunications infrastructure is a crucial element for economic development, especially for developing countries. However, telephone service in developing countries is typically characterized by a supply that does not meet demand. This means that the telephone service may not be available in some areas, or that there may be delays in getting a telephone. In terms of telephone usage, it means that telephone calls may not go through during
peak hours because of congestion. As the Maitland Commission (1984) noted, telecommunication is a missing link in much of the developing world.

During 1980’s, the problem of telephone shortage in developing countries had been modestly reduced
because of changes in telecommunications technology and policy. Hudson (1995) found that the average growth of the telephone line capacity per 100 population in developing countries between 1980-1990 was many times higher
than the average growth of their per capita GNP. However, the average level of telephone line capacity per 100 population for the low-income and the lower middle-income economies was relatively low, i.e., 0.5 lines per 100 population and 5 lines per 100 population respectively. Thus, there is still a significant gap in the access to telecommunications between the industrialized and the developing countries.

In the case of Thailand, the provision of domestic telephone service was undertaken by a state-owned
monopoly-the Telephone Organization of Thailand (henceforth, TOT). The enterprise failed to cope with the soaring demand for telephones during the 1980’s. The requests for telephone service took many years to fill, and the service was available only in densely populated areas. The government took many measures through a number of National
Economic and Social Development Plans (NESDP) to alleviate the telephone shortage problem. During the 5th plan (1982-1986), meeting the market demand for telephone was already a national policy goal. The level of investment budgeted for network facilities increased four fold. During the 6th plan (1987-1991), the export boom in the late 1980’s and the early 1990’s pushed the telephone demand up to an unprecedented level. It was apparent that the telephone supply became a bottleneck of economic growth. The National Economic and Social Development Board (1987) proposed that the role of the private sector in national development should be enhanced both in production and in provision of infrastructure of services hitherto provided by the government and that the state should encourage private sector participation in investing and operating public communications services. For example, joint investments, leasing and partial or total takeovers will be allowed. Therefore, during the 7th plan (1992-1996) the government allowed the private sector to participate in telecommunications development through a number of build-transferoperate (BTO) projects.

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Sufficiency Economy is Philosophy or Economy System ?

2007-06-18T02:37:00.000-07:00

Sufficiency Economy is Philosophy or Economy System ?

by Darksingha

What is Sufficiency Economy ? Between are Philosophy or Economy System or both. Unofficial translation from major trend of Thai Social(read about Thai Social at www.inthadark.bloggang.com ) that is to say Sufficiency Economy is Philosophy that emphasizes the middle path as an overriding principle for appropriate conduct by the populace at all levels as level of individuals, family, communities, nation in development and administration so as to modernize in line with the forces of globalization.

If consider only Sufficiency that don’t different with the Sufficiency Economy because Sufficiency in major trend is moderation, reasonableness and need of self-immunity for sufficient protection from impact arising from internal and external changes. To achieve this, an application of knowledge with due consideration and prudence is essential. In particular great care is needed in the utilization of theories and methodologies for planning and implementation in every step. At the same time, it is essential to strengthen the moral fibre of the nation, so that everyone, particularly public officials, academics, businessman at all level, adheres first and foremost to the principles of honesty and integrity. In addition, a way of life based on patience, perseverance, diligence, wisdom and prudence is indispensable to create balance and be able to cope appropriately with critical challenges arising from extensive and rapid socioeconomic, environmental, and cultural changes in the world.

From the means of Sufficiency Economy and Sufficiency therefore is a philosophy or way of a person in the individual level more than the Economy system because economic system is a mechanism (social institution) which deals with the production, distribution and consumption of goods and services in a particular society. The economic system is composed of people, institutions and their relationships to resources, such as the convention of property. It addresses the problems of economics, like the allocation and scarcity of resources

And the Sufficiency Economy in major trend of Thai Social don’t say structure relations in economic system between human with human, human with socioeconomic that still ability to appropriate surplus value of the stratified that is near center of power in The World Stratified Society. So the Sufficiency Economy in major trend of Thai Social therefore is Political Discourse that the major trend or liberal capitalist economy can appropriate explanation in social as though Sufficiency Economy is capital economy that have moral.
*can read article that concerning at www.asiaarticle.blogspot.com and www.aboutasean.blogspot.com

Confronting the Military in Thailand

2007-06-18T00:40:00.000-07:00

Confronting the Military in Thailand
Monday, Jun. 11, 2007
By HANNAH BEECH/BANGKOK

Protests against Thailand's ruling junta spilled onto Bangkok streets over the weekend, with an estimated 13,000 demonstrators calling for the resignation of the military leaders who masterminded a bloodless coup against Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra last September. The marches were the largest show of dissatisfaction to date against coup architect Gen. Sonthi Boonyaratglin and junta-appointed Prime Minister Surayud Chulanont. While the bulk of the protesters came from within Thaksin's followers, they also included a wide range of other interest groups, a worrisome sign for a government already under scrutiny from overseas investors and businessmen worried about the kingdom's stability. The fear is that the tensions between civilian protesters and the military government could explode in violence and even further damage Thailand's image and prosperity.

The political situation was exacerbated late last month when a tribunal hand-picked by the junta dissolved Thailand's largest political party — Thai Rak Thai (TRT), which had been founded by billionaire Thaksin — as punishment for committing electoral fraud. Although the ruling generals have promised to hold elections by the end of this year, removing the nation's most popular party from contention threw Thailand's democratic future further into question. Indeed, during the weekend marches, emotions overflowed and a few demonstrators clashed with police, even beating up an ex-Senator who had been critical of Thaksin. On Sunday, the junta blamed the TRT party leadership for the violence, urging the group's large and mostly rural electoral base to respect the ban on their party.

But the rallies spanned a far wider spectrum than just Thaksin acolytes. Democracy advocates have taken to the streets to decry the use of army tanks over ballot boxes. Anti-poverty campaigners who claim the junta has not adequately addressed the plight of Thailand's rural poor have raised their voices, as have employees of community-radio stations banned from the airwaves by the junta. Legal activists, including a veteran former judge, have condemned what they believe is deteriorating judicial freedom under the military leadership. And Buddhists, who are upset that their faith was not designated as the national religion in the draft of the post-coup constitution, have also rallied against the military government. "The anti-junta coalition has gathered critical mass," warns Thitinan Pongsudhirak, a political scientist at Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok. "This is a pent-up situation, and it's going to get worse."

Certainly, the anti-coup movement makes for peculiar bedfellows. One of the mobilizers of the weekend protest was Weng Tojirakan, a respected democracy activist who had been vociferous in his criticism of Thaksin before the military overthrow. "I do not support Mr. Thaksin, but the junta destroyed democracy," Weng says. "The junta is a monster and is evil, even more than Mr. Thaksin."

The interim government has also drawn criticism for failing to quickly prove corruption by the former P.M., even though his alleged graft was a major rationale the generals gave for staging their putsch. (On Monday evening, a junta-appointed investigative committee announced it had ordered the freezing of Thaksin's domestic bank accounts, estimated at more than $1 billion.) More generally, many Thais blame the coup leaders for a series of economic missteps that dented Thailand's international reputation, as well as for scrapping the previous constitution and presenting a new draft that drew little from public consultation.

The anti-junta coalition has vowed to continue holding protests until the coup leaders resign. On Monday, 5,000 Buddhists thronged in front of the Thai Parliament, some participating in a hunger strike to draw attention to their call for a state faith. It's unlikely, however, that this coterie of generals will bend to such wishes — or relinquish their own power so easily.

More possible, perhaps, is either a counter-coup against the interim government — hardly a confidence-booster for believers in Thai democracy — or heightened clashes between anti-junta protestors and army troops. In a worrisome precedent, similar pro-democracy marches back in 1992 ended with soldiers firing on unarmed protestors, killing dozens. "To be fair to the military, they have been disciplined and patient so far, but for how long?" asks political scientist Thitinan. "They are trained to respond by force. If it turns more violent, it will be bad for Thailand economically — and for how it is viewed by the world." With reporting by Robert Horn/Bangkok

from : www.time.com

Thailand's Trouble with Islamists

2007-06-18T00:38:00.000-07:00

Friday, Jun. 08, 2007
By HANNAH BEECH

With its powder-soft beaches and golden-spired Buddhist temples, Thailand markets itself as a tourist haven. But the Southeast Asian nation has another side it would rather visitors not see: an Islamic insurgency in the country's far south that has claimed more than 2,100 lives since 2004. On May 31, a dozen paramilitary rangers were killed in an ambush. The following weekend, two civilians were shot dead, and 20 soccer players were injured by an on-field bomb.

Although Thailand is predominantly Buddhist, millions of Muslims live in the country's three southernmost provinces, which Thailand annexed a century ago. An insurgency has simmered for three years, with some militants calling for an independent homeland. Many Thai Muslims have long felt marginalized by the Buddhist majority, and the sense of alienation may get a lot worse. This spring, thousands of Buddhist monks took to Bangkok's streets clamoring for their beliefs to be designated in the constitution as Thailand's sole state religion. On June 4, charter writers rejected the call for an official faith, but growing pro-Buddhist (and, by extension, anti-Muslim) sentiment could doom the new constitution when it faces a referendum in August.

The mounting body count in the south dashes hopes that last September's military coup might ease the crisis, because junta leader General Sonthi Boonyaratglin is a Muslim. Since the putsch, violence has worsened. On June 4, insurgents were blamed for a train derailment that caused the entire railway network in the south to grind to a halt. With no end in sight to the conflict, Thailand's government will have to work even harder to keep the violence from distracting the tourist trade.

from : www.time.com

Thaksin Ups the Ante for Thailand's Generals

2007-06-18T00:31:00.000-07:00

Thursday, Jun. 14, 2007
By HANNAH BEECH/BANGKOK

Enlarge Photo
SHOW OF FORCE: An anti-junta rally in Bangkok on June 11
Hoang Dinh Nam / AFP / Getty Images

Having dubbed itself the land of Smiles, Thailand tends to go out of its way to avoid confrontation. The capital's infamous traffic jams, for instance, rarely lead to the kind of road rage that strikes other cities. Yet this past week, the Southeast Asian kingdom showed the world a rather less peaceful visage. Protests against Thailand's ruling junta spilled onto Bangkok streets last weekend, with an estimated 13,000 demonstrators calling for the resignation of the generals who masterminded a bloodless coup against Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra last September. The marches, which sometimes erupted in clashes with the police, were the largest show of dissatisfaction to date against the military government led by the coup's architect, General Sonthi Boonyaratglin.

Thaksin, who has lived in exile since his ouster, quickly upped the confrontational ante. On June 11, a government-appointed investigative committee announced it had ordered the freezing of $1.6 billion in domestic bank deposits belonging to the former tycoon and his family, alleging corruption in several government projects overseen by Thaksin. The exiled leader, who has denied any wrongdoing, suggested the following day that he may return to Thailand to fight the charges—and perhaps re-enter politics. The prospective homecoming of Thaksin is likely to inflame tensions between civilian protestors and the military government, further damaging the country's international image and its hopes for stability. "[Thaksin's] return will raise the likelihood of violence," says Sunai Phasuk, the Thailand representative for New York-based Human Rights Watch. "We are heading for political upheaval."

Most of last weekend's demonstrators were from Thaksin's fan base, which draws largely from the rural poor. Many expressed anger at a tribunal, handpicked by the junta, which had dissolved Thaksin's Thai Rak Thai (TRT) party for committing electoral fraud in last year's polls. In their defense, the ruling generals have promised to hold elections by the end of this year, and they point out that their putsch was met with almost no public outcry. That's true: Thaksin's popularity had nosedived by the end of his tenure, in part because of his autocratic style, and street protests against him last year still dwarf the current rallies against the junta.

On Sunday, the junta blamed the TRT party leadership for the protests, later hinting that cash handouts had lured many poor citizens to the demonstrations. But the anti-junta rallies span a wider spectrum than just Thaksin's supporters. Democracy advocates took to the streets to decry the September coup. Anti-poverty campaigners who claim the junta has not adequately addressed the plight of Thailand's rural poor raised their voices, as did employees of community-radio stations banned from the airwaves by the interim government. Legal activists condemned what they believe is deteriorating judicial freedom under the military leadership. And Buddhists, who are upset their faith was not designated as the national religion in the draft of the postcoup constitution, also marched en masse. "The anti-junta coalition has gathered critical mass," says Thitinan Pongsudhirak, a political scientist at Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok. "This is a pent-up situation, and it's going to get worse."

The anti-junta coalition has vowed no letup in their dissent. On Monday, 5,000 Buddhists thronged in front of the Thai parliament, some participating in a hunger strike to draw attention to their call for a state faith. It's unlikely, however, that the generals will bend to such wishes—or relinquish their own power so easily. On Wednesday, General Sonthi struck a defiant note, predicting that Thaksin would not dare return to Thailand because he could be killed by one of the many groups of people who oppose him.

If Thaksin does return, the junta may have to redouble efforts to keep the peace between increasingly irate demonstrators and army troops. "To be fair to the military, they have been disciplined and patient so far, but for how long?" asks political scientist Thitinan. "They are trained to respond by force. If it turns more violent, it will be bad for Thailand economically—and for how it is viewed by the world."

with reporting by Robert Horn/Bangkok

from :www.time.com

The Philosophy of Sufficiency Economy

2007-06-17T00:09:00.000-07:00

Medhi Krongkaew

The economic crisis of 1997 affected everyone in Thailand, even His Majesty the King. Seeing many of his subjects suffering, he advised the Thai people to change their economic philosophy in order to cope with present economic adversity and withstand future economic insecurity. His Majesty’s words have become known as the Philosophy of Sufficiency Economy and have been used as the guiding principle in drafting the current 9th National Economic and Social Development Plan.

The philosophy can be summed up in one paragraph, as translated from the Thai:

“Sufficiency Economy is a philosophy that guides the livelihood and behavior of people at all levels, from the family to the community to the country, on matters concerning national development and administration. It calls for a ‘middle way’ to be observed, especially in pursuing economic development in keeping with the world of globalization. Sufficiency means moderation and reasonableness, including the need to build a reasonable immune system against shocks from the outside or from the inside. Intelligence, attentiveness, and extreme care should be used to ensure that all plans and every step of their implementation are based on knowledge. At the same time we must build up the spiritual foundation of all people in the nation, especially state officials, scholars, and business people at all levels, so they are conscious of moral integrity and honesty and they strive for the appropriate wisdom to live life with forbearance, diligence, self-awareness, intelligence, and attentiveness. In this way we can hope to maintain balance and be ready to cope with rapid physical, social, environmental, and cultural changes from the outside world.”

This philosophical statement has lent itself to interpretation by diverse groups of people. First, we can dismiss outright the extreme interpretation that the Sufficiency Economy means complete self-reliance or autarky. In an autarchic system, a country or unit thereof relies upon itself and its people to produce all its needs with no dependence on others. It may do this voluntarily (cutting off contacts with the outside world) or by necessity (because it is incapable of generating those contacts). But His Majesty the King explicitly rejected this interpretation: “This self-sufficiency does not mean that every family must grow food for themselves, to make clothes for themselves; that is too much. But in a village or sub-district there should be a reasonable amount of sufficiency. If they grow or produce something more than they need they can sell them. But they do not need to sell them very far; they can sell them in nearby places without having to pay high transport costs.”

Some people have attempted to link this economic philosophy with the so-called “Gandhian Economy.” Along the lines proposed by Mahatma Gandhi, this is an economy based on family-level or village-level small-scale enterprises and traditional methods. It may have been appropriate to India in the mid-twentieth century, when the people were poor and technology was limited. But in the present, it may be too restrictive to expect families to do everything by themselves using simple tools and machinery, such as traditional spinning wheels to make cloth. Perhaps the basic idea of Gandhian simplicity – a life less encumbered by modern needs and modern technology – could make people happier. But in the very open world of today, self-sufficiency a la Gandhi is too extreme.

We also hear people relating the Sufficiency Economy to the knowledge and applicability of Buddhism. In Buddhism, life, especially spiritual life, is enhanced by cutting out excessive wants and greed. True happiness may be attained when a person is fully satisfied with what he or she has and is at peace with the self. To strive to consume more leads to unhappiness if (or when) consumption is not satisfied or falls short of expectations. A sufficiency economy in this context would be an economy fundamentally conditioned by basic need, not greed, and restrained by a conscious effort to cut consumption. This is probably acceptable insofar as it does not reject gains in welfare and well-being due to greater consumption.

Looking back, it can be seen that His Majesty has talked about the sufficiency idea since 1974. In his customary birthday speech of that year, he wished everyone in Thailand “sufficient to live and to eat” (Por You Por Kin). This was indeed a precursor to the sufficiency economy. His Majesty also said: “The development of a country must be by steps. It must start with basic sufficiency in food and adequate living, using techniques and instruments which are economical but technically sound. When this foundation is secured, then higher economic status and progress can be established.” (See Apichai Puntasen, “The King’s Sufficiency Economy and Its Interpretation by Economists,” prepared for the 1999 Year-End Conference of the Thailand Development Research Institute (TDRI), Pattaya, 18-19 December 1999.)

This is very clear: it shows that His Majesty did not deny economic progress and globalization, as some people have interpreted. Indeed the word “globalization” (โลกาภิวัตน์ , lokapiwat) is used in the statement on Sufficiency Economy that His Majesty has endorsed. The notion that Sufficiency Economy is anti-globalization should be put to rest forever.

Still, there are attempts by various segments of the Thai population to dissociate this new economy from the realm of mainstream economics that stresses economic rationality and efficiency in resource allocation. It is obvious that His Majesty’s Sufficiency Economy is not the type found in a mainstream economics textbook, but it would be inaccurate to interpret it as the antithesis of mainstream economics in every respect. On the contrary, I think we can understand Sufficiency Economy within the framework of economic rationality and efficiency in allocative choices. The difference is not in type, but in degree or magnitude of economic behavior. His Majesty used the phrase “middle path” or “middle way” to describe the pattern of life every Thai should lead – a life dictated by moderation, reasonableness, and the ability to withstand shock. Can we find something in mainstream economics that captures the spirit of this philosophy?

I propose to use my own understanding of economic optimization. It is possible to see the Sufficiency Economy as consisting of two frameworks. One is the inevitability of facing the globalized world in which economic efficiency and competition are the rules of the game; the other is the need for economic security and the capacity to protect oneself from external shock and instability. Thinking within the first framework – the basic tenet of mainstream economics – we must realise the opportunity costs involved in every decision we make. We gain from specialization and division of labor because the opportunity costs of doing everything by ourselves is much higher. The laws of comparative advantage and gains from trade are at work in today’s world. But it would be foolish to pursue all-out specialization without basic security, especially in food, shelter, and clothing. This is where the framework of the new Sufficiency Economy comes in. This concerns the basic capacity of the people of a country to look after themselves. The optimization principle applies when we seek to answer the question: How much of our time and energy should be devoted to the first and second frameworks, respectively? In other words, how much resources should be allocated to producing for trade based on comparative advantage principle, and how much for basic security? The best mix between the two allocations would represent the optimal state of affairs, both in mainstream and Sufficiency Economics.

The author is professor of economics at the School of Development Economics, National Institute of Development Administration (NIDA).

from :Kyoto Review

Thailand

2007-06-16T01:56:00.000-07:00

Thailand

Thank you very much, Acharn Giles. The title of my talk, “A Country is a Company, a PM is a CEO,” is based on a statement Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra made in November 1977 when he declared: “A company is a country. A country is a company. They’re the same. The management is the same.”

Thaksin’s election victory in January 2001 should be seen not just as the “rise of Thaksin,” but as the triumph of big business in Thai politics. Thaksin is not the only big businessman in or well connected to the Cabinet. Ukrist Pathmanand, others, and I elsewhere have described the circles of interest around this government, so I don’t need to go into detail. It’s enough to note that the Cabinet and the core of the Thai Rak Thai Party contain a significant selection of the big business families which managed to survive the crisis in reasonable shape.

Big business has captured the state. That in itself is interesting, and I will talk a little about how this came about. But what big business wants to do with the state is more interesting, and I’ll spend rather more time on that.

First, then, how did this capture of the state come about? To begin with, we have to understand that this is not totally new. In the era of military dictatorship, big business was very well connected politically. As parliamentary democracy developed, several big businessmen played a prominent role in the early stages, and later moved more into the background.

For most of the past two decades, they have not seen much need to take a direct political role. I think this was for two reasons. First, before 1997 globalization seemed to be a great thing. Big business profited more than any other social or economic segment by getting access to technology, ideas, education, markets, finance. Big business did not need the state to manage globalization. Second, the state did a pretty good job of looking after business’s interests inside the country without the need for direct management. It built infrastructure, controlled labor, kept the macro economy stable, and did not interfere much with big business itself.

All that changed over the 1990s, and especially in the 1997 crisis, in three main ways. First, the existing political system showed itself catastrophically incapable of protecting big business interests – in fact the government sleepwalked into a crisis which wrecked many of the largest companies. Second, globalization ceased to be a friend but became a threat – in the shape of the IMF and predatory transnational capital. And third, society became more demanding. The 1990s was a decade of protest, new political organizations, and arguments for structural change. (I will come back to this issue below).

These three changes provided the motivation for big business to take a larger political role. Two other things made this much easier. First, parts of the 1997 constitution had an urban, centrist bias which provided the openings for big business. Second, the widespread social havoc of the crisis created an equally widespread demand for political change which could be exploited by electoral promises and party imagery.

Now let me move to the second part, how big business wants to use the state. I divide this into two areas, which are broadly economic and sociopolitical respectively.

First, economic. This government wants to shift towards a form of the “developmentalist” state found in other parts of Asia over the past generation. By “developmentalist” I mean that the state takes a more active part in protecting and promoting domestic capital in order to achieve catch-up economic growth.

This is not a new ambition on the part of Thai domestic capital. Back in 1980, the banker and finance minister Boonchu Rojanasatian campaigned for “Thailand Inc.” and said: “We should run the country like a business firm.” That effort was blocked by the generals, who worried that capitalism rampant would stimulate communism rampant too.

Thaksin has echoed Boonchu almost exactly, talking of “Thailand Company Limited” and saying, “A country is a company. A company is a country. They’re the same.”

Economic growth is the Thaksin government’s primary focus. At first, it was simply recovery from the crisis. Once this was on the way, the goal became attaining OECD status and transiting into the first world. This is the primary goal that shapes all of the secondary ones.

For earlier developmentalist states (Japan, Korea, Taiwan), the aim was to force-feed domestic capitalism through three main kinds of policies: directed credit; industrial policy, meaning packages of protective and promotional measures for selected sectors or firms; and control of labor.

Thailand’s new developmentalism differs in some important ways because of the change in era and the special character of Thailand’s economy. Most importantly, Thailand has pursued trade liberalization and later financial liberalization for many years, so the economy is highly open and externally oriented. Changing this orientation would be highly costly. Since the boom and bust, most major industry – and especially export industry – is under transnational firms. The Thaksin government’s policy is not to withdraw from this transnational dominance. It accepts that this is the age of transnational production networks. Rather the government tries to promote Thailand as a site for export location, tourism, and investment, and at the same time to upgrade Thailand’s position within transnational production chains.

In parallel, the government wants to promote and protect domestic capital in sectors oriented to domestic consumption, especially service industries. These sectors are somewhat protected from foreign competition, not by trade protection but by other legal barriers, such as the ban on foreign ownership of land and restrictions on foreign investment in media, telecommunications, and certain kinds of services on the grounds of special or security reasons. These sectors are also the ones in which most of the family businesses connected to the government are involved.

The government has moved towards what used to be called “industrial policy,” though here it is formulated in terms of business school economics and labeled “enhancing competitiveness” and promotion of small and medium enterprises (SMEs). Five strategic industries have been openly identified for promotion, including: fashion; agriprocessing; automobiles; ICT, especially graphics; and services, including tourism, restaurants, medicine, and logistics. Others are clearly being promoted in parallel through cronyist ties. Note that the majority of strategic industries are in services or service-related.

The government is also involved in channeling credit on a scale never previously seen in Thailand. The 1997 crisis pole-axed the commercial banks and finance companies. Those that survived are still reluctant to lend. At the same time, the crisis transferred many banking assets to government control. The government’s Krung Thai Bank was transformed from a sleepy dinosaur into the country’s largest lender. In addition, the government has mobilized other semi-dormant state banks and state specialized financial institutions (e.g., Government Saving Bank, EXIM Bank, SME Bank), expanded their roles, and urged them to lend. It has also experimented with ways to steal dormant deposits away from the remaining commercial banks; launched schemes of subsidized credit (for real estate and SMEs); begun using the stock market to corporatize and refinance state enterprises; and set up a state Asset Management Corporation which is able to restore the creditworthiness of formally bankrupt companies. The government has become the major factor in the allocation of credit.

The government is also stimulating consumption in order to create the market for domestically-oriented enterprise. This began with Keynesian stimulus under the previous government. Thaksin expanded this by encouraging a large increase in consumer debt.

Finally, the Thaksin government is intent on broadening and deepening the extent of the domestic capitalist economy. The thinking is simple: many people still live in a semi-subsistence economy. Incorporating them more firmly into capitalism will increase growth (as well as reduce poverty). The Thaksin government’s so-called “populist” schemes are easily misunderstood as similar to Latin American welfare populism. With the exception of the cheap health scheme, this is not the case. The Thaksin schemes are mostly about stimulating entrepreneurship by increasing the access to capital. Thaksin has said: “Capitalism needs capital, without which there is no capitalism. We need to push capital into the rural areas.” Thaksin’s adviser, Pansak Vinyaratn, claimed: “For the first time in the history of Thailand, we have moved capital closer to the people.” The same logic is being applied to some parts of the illegal or underground economy. The government wants to legalize them and bring them within the scope of the legitimate economy.

Now let me come to the socio-political part. Here my argument in summary is as follows. While big business has seized the state to manage external threats, it has also seized it to manage internal threats. This second mission is just as important, and much less understood.

After the end of the Cold War and the collapse of Thailand’s military rule, there was a big expansion of political space – protests, civil society, NGOs, public intellectuals, people politics, new organizations, etc. More people were looking for new ways to challenge the distribution of power and wealth. This upsurge threatens the interests of big business in many ways. Most directly, it threatens its ability to command the use of natural resources for land development, power generation, waste disposal, and many other things. By the end of the 1990s, almost every large-scale project was challenged and blocked by protest.

More subtly, this new civil society embraced ideologies which aim to severely reduce the power of the central state. These ideologies arose in reaction to the centralized, top-down, dictatorial state of the era of military rule, which was willed almost intact to the new parliamentary politicians. These protest ideologies range from classic liberalism, which simply wants to qualify state power through greater transparency, rule of law, checks and balances, etc., through to more anarchistic ideas such as the community culture movement, which wants to disassemble the central state and return power to local communities. These liberal and anarchistic strains were logically opposed to one another, but in many of the campaigns of the 1990s they could cooperate in opposition to the central leviathan. Moreover, these agendas started to have real influence within the state. Some of the key policy documents of the late 1990s were written from this perspective, namely, many parts of the 1997 constitution, the eighth development plan, the decentralization law, education reform proposals, and so on.

Just when big business wanted to seize the state and use it to force-feed capitalism, civil society movements wanted to disassemble or restructure the state to be more responsive to other interests. And these agendas began to have influence over the state.

Moreover, the protest movements disrupting the big projects were intertwined with the ideological campaigns against the strong state. The ideologues rode on the backs of the protesters to press their agenda; the protesters contracted the ideologues to articulate their demands in a wider political context. Moreover, this axis began to benefit from globalization, whose benefits had earlier seemed to fall mostly to big business and the middle class. Similar protest movements and ideological currents began to link together on a transnational scale, leading to such events as the World Social Forum and the siege of Seattle.

Since 2001, the Thaksin government has closed down much of the political space opened up over the prior quarter-century. This has been dramatic. The government has pursued five main approaches.

First, the government has tried in part to quell protest through a new “social contract” offering some more welfare, village funds, and various “care” schemes. Second, where this approach is ineffective, the government reverts to repression. The Pak Mun dam issue nicely fits this pattern. Thaksin himself went directly to the protesters and offered them money. When they refused, he settled the issue summarily without even completing the government-financed research and had the protest camps forcibly dismantled. To aid in countering protests, the government has added several repressive laws and has partially rehabilitated the military to serve as an ally and resource. It has aggressively targeted the NGO movement.

Third, the government has tamed the media through a mixture of law, regulation, intimidation, and money. The media is possibly tamer now than at any time in Thailand’s modern history, except the immediate aftermath of the 1976 massacre.

Fourth, the government has launched campaigns of social discipline. Some of these are peripheral – little more than state aid for panicked middle-class parents who cannot control their children and particularly their children’s sex lives. But behind these campaigns is an idea of the state’s duty and ability to discipline what Habermas would call the life-world. This is summed up in the phrase “social order,” which in its Thai version, rabiap sangkhom, has a much greater tone of conformity and orderliness than the English. For example, the Ministry of Culture has been running a TV ad for several months about a bad youth who would not bend his back in the traditional stoop of deference. The “final war on drugs” in 2003 had many objectives, but one of its outcomes was to intimidate all forms of social deviance.

Fifth, the government is promoting nationalism. This is not the political nationalism of the colonial and cold-war eras, but an economic nationalism. The thinking is explained in Liah Greenfeld’s book, The Spirit of Capitalism, which Thaksin and his advisors have publicly quoted on several occasions. The main message of the book is that societies which put priority on achieving economic growth to make their nation great can achieve growth very rapidly. Greenfeld wrote: “Where nationalism embraces economic competitiveness, the ‘take-off into sustained growth’ can be expected to take place within a generation…. Nationalism was like the magic wand that changed Cinderella’s pumpkin and mice into a gilded coach-and-four.” Greenfeld’s second message is that societies which start on this path but get distracted by other goals such as democracy or rights or the quality of life or equity are likely to fall by the wayside.

At the end of last year, Thaksin said: “Democracy is a good and beautiful thing, but it’s not the ultimate goal as far as administering the country is concerned…. Democracy is just a tool, not our goal. The goal is to give people a good lifestyle, happiness, and national progress.”

In sum, I see Thaksin as the leader of a big business project to seize the state in order to protect big business against both external and internal threats, and in order to achieve a “great leap forward” into advanced capitalism. Thaksin and his allies want to manage the economy more actively by using state tools to mobilize resources and deepen capitalism. They want to manage the society to suppress alternative agendas which might obstruct this great leap forward, particularly agendas which prioritize rights, democracy, or equity above growth. Thailand is obviously adopting a form of developmentalism along the line of the Asian NICs in the 1970s, but with differences because of the way the world has changed over recent decades.

When a country becomes a company, and government becomes management, then people are not so much citizens with rights, liberties, and aspirations, but rather consumers and factors of production. Thank you.

Giles Ji Ungpakorn: Thank you very much, Prof. Pasuk. Our next speaker is Associate Professor Paul Hutchcroft, who is currently based in the University of Wisconsin in the United States, where he specializes on comparative politics on Southeast Asia, especially the Philippines.

from :Kyoto Review

Crimes Committed by the State: Transition in Crisis

2007-06-16T01:54:00.000-07:00

Crimes Committed by the State: Transition in Crisis
Atchayagam Rat Wigrit Garnpienpaeng
Ji Giles Ungpakorn, Suthachai Yimprasert et al.
Bangkok / The 6th October 1976 Investigating Committee / 2001

The Women of 6th October: Sifting Out the Truth by Opening Old Wounds
Grid Plae Glad Nong Grong Khwamjing Doi Phuying Hok Tula
Chonthira Sattyawattana
Bangkok / The 6th October 1976 Investigating Committee / 2001

by Viengrat Nethipo
I found myself seated somewhere on the campus of Chulalongkorn University working on a manuscript of this review. It was the day of the 58th Annual Traditional Football Match between Chulalongkorn and Thammasat universities. The two royally composed university songs, CU’s “Mahachulalongkorn” and TU’s “Yoong Tong,” could be heard echoing across the campus from the National Stadium. For students today, it is activities like the football match that define university life.

In other words, this review of books dealing with the political events of 6th October 1976 is being written and will be read in a context very different from the one which held then, one in which there is very little public awareness of the politics of more than a quarter century ago. Today, only Thai students with an interest in Thai history have any knowledge of what took place on this date. Unlike in Chile, where former leader Pinochet was recently on trial for using force against innocent people during more or less the same period, in Thai society today, there is little interest in bringing to justice the culprits behind the violence of October 1976.

However, to researchers of Thai politics and society, these are important books. These two publications attracted the attention of a large number of participants at the International Symposium on Thai Studies in Nakorn Phanom Province in early January. This article centers on the question of whether these books, given the current political climate, or lack thereof, succeed in proving that the State was responsible for what took place 25 years ago—as suggested by the title of the first book—or whether it is possible only to “sift out the truth”—as the title of the second book implies.

The events of 6th October took place during the heat of political battles between the left and right wings. They culminated in the cruel suppression of the students gathering at Thammasat by police and a right-wing mob. A large number of innocent people were killed or suffered emotional trauma. A coup d’état followed forcing many Thai students to go into hiding or join the Communist Party of Thailand, which had strongholds in remote areas of the country. Thailand was effectively in a state of civil war, with the Communist Party and government forces battling for approximately four years.

The publisher of these books is The 6th October 1976 Investigating Committee, which was set up in July 2000 to gather information about a missing chapter from recent Thai history by compiling verbal accounts from volunteer eyewitnesses. Sitting as the chairperson was Professor (Emeritus) of Rangsit University Dr. Chontara Satayawattana (the author of the second book under review), and holding the secretarial position was Assistant Professor Ji Giles Ungpakorn (co-author of the first book) of Chulalongkorn University’s Faculty of Political Science.

Atchayagam Rat Wigrit Garnpienpaeng (Crimes committed by the state) has three main objectives. In the first part, Ji Ungpakorn attempts to compile all available written accounts of the 6th October events. These are mostly explanations of “the truth” as seen through the eyes of the student leaders involved. Without imposing his own conclusions, the author simply presents these diverse viewpoints as starting points for discussion of the key issues raised in the last two sections of the book.

The next section consists of an in-depth examination of historical forces that led to the events. The study was done by Dr. Suthachai Yimprasert, a historian from Chulalongkorn University’s Faculty of Arts and a former student activist. Even though he wasn’t at Thammasat that morning, his alleged involvement in student politics prompted him to flee. Suthachai’s thorough and multi-faceted study presents several factors that led to the bloodshed, in which at least thirty-nine people were killed and 145 others injured. He concludes that the crackdown on the students and the subsequent coup d’état had been planned in advance by the government, which justified its actions by accusing the students of staging a play that bordered on lèse-majesté. Suthachai urges Thai society to accept the truth that the student victims were in fact “heroes” who aspired to create a better society. Suthachai has successfully enriched this historical chapter with as many details as possible, making it a reliable source for future reference.

In the final section, Ji Ungpakorn, one of the most interesting writers on the 6th October events, rules that what happened was a crime committed by the State. His approach is different from that of others who have written on the same subject. First of all, he was by no means a student leader. Nor was he involved in the student movement. In fact, he only returned from England, where he spent most of his life, five years ago. The reason why he proclaims himself “an October person” (the term used to refer to students and other educated people who were directly involved in the 14 October 1973 and 6 October 1976 events) is because he is the son of Puay Ungpakorn, the Thammasat University president who, as a result of the events of 6th October, was forced to flee the country and eventually died in exile.

Ji Ungpakorn is therefore an academic and social activist whose background was not directly shaped by political situations in Thailand. Nor has he been so deeply scarred by the events that he is unable to make an objective analysis. All this, in fact, works to his advantage. He deliberates on the events like a true judge whose impartiality is not clouded by any illusions, as when he professes himself to be a Marxist despite others’ disillusionment with the Communist Party of Thailand.

Thus, Ji’s deliberation on the 6th October case must be regarded as having been done from a distance by someone removed from the actual events. Ji builds his case carefully before reaching the conclusion that the events were a crime committed by the State. He cites counter-evidence and counter-arguments like a professional trial lawyer. He counters all four accusations made by the State to justify the crackdown on the students and people on 6th October: first, that the students had staged a play that bordered on lèse-majesté; second, that by stockpiling weapons at Thammasat the students were guilty of treason; third, that the clashes between the so-called “patriots” and the students had gotten out of control, forcing police to break into Thammasat; fourth, that the students, by spreading communist ideology, were a threat to national security.

Ji dismisses each of the accusations using factual evidence and arguments. His judgment that the students’ gathering was a legitimate act is made without regard to the students’ deeds or to their ideology at the time or to any of the philosophical or factual disputes presented in the first part of the book. In this section, Ji assumes the role of a prosecutor and a jury who convicts the state of committing a crime and calls for the judge to bring the culprits to justice. He proposes that a truth commission be set up as has been done in many other countries.

Grid Plae Glad Nong Grong Khwamjing Doi Phuying Hok Tula (The women of 6th October: Sifting out the truth by opening old wounds) is a compilation of testimony given verbatim by women eyewitnesses. The writer, Chontira Satayawattana, is a former student activist who spent seven years in hiding. She was pregnant when she was charged with involvement in communist activities and sent to prison, where she subsequently gave birth to a daughter.

The book lives up to its title. The writer successfully sifts out the truth through verbal accounts and memories recounted by the female eyewitnesses. An unprecedented feat, the book not only allows volunteer witnesses to vent their painful feelings and memories but also presents newly discovered information. For example, according to a former intelligence student activist, a radio police message intercepted just before the events took place confirms that police reinforcement had been ordered prior to that morning. This evidence leads to the conclusion that the decision to enter Thammasat on the morning of 6th October was not a case of a situation getting out of control, but was actually an action planned in advance.

Every paragraph written by Suthachai and Chontira is replete with the names of individuals and institutions that are still highly influential even today. This is an important reason why we cannot hope to see Ji’s verdict taken seriously or a truth commission set up any time soon. As an outsider, Ji may be perceived as naïve. And the day remains out of reach when his demand for justice is met and his hope to be a torchbearer for truth and a force for change is realized.

At least Ji Ungpakorn is successful in presenting facts to those wanting to know the truth, but his call for justice is likely to be drowned out by the two royally composed songs echoing across the campus today.

The author is an assistant professor of political science at Chulalongkorn University. This review was translated by Somjit Jirananthiporn and Michael Crabtree, Chalermprakiet Center of Translation and Interpretation, Faculty of Arts, Chulalongkorn University.

from :Kyoto Review

Hinggil sa Pulitika ng Pangangalagang Pangkalikasan sa Thailand

2007-06-16T01:52:00.000-07:00

Pinkaew Laungaramsri

Ayon sa papel na ito, ang “kunserbasyong pangkalikasan” sa Thailand ay produkto ng interbensyon ng pamahalaan sa mga natural na tanawin at ang pagtingin na ang mga kagubatan ay may pangunahing kahalagahan sa modernisasyon ng bansa. Ang pagyakap sa wilderness thinking ng Hilagang Amerika ng nagmomodernisang estadong Thai ay nagbunga ng pagkalito sa pagitan ng “kunserbasyong pangkalikasan” at “pang-ekonomyang pag-unlad.” Bagamat tinitignan bilang kasukalang malaya sa panghihimasok ng tao, ang mga protected area ay integral sa kapitalisasyon ng likas na kayamanan sa loob ng development paradigm.

Nagsimula ang paglaho ng sinaunang konsepto ng pa (gubat) bilang isang misteryoso at masukal na pook sa paligid at naiiba sa sibilisadong mundo ng muang (lungsod) sa pagdating mula sa Burma noong ika-19 na dantaon ng mga kumpanyang Ingles na nagtotroso. Ito ay pinalitan ng terminong pa mai (gubat-kahoy); ang “kalikasan” ay naging “likas na kayamanan” na mayroong utilitaryanong pagtutuon sa komersyal na halaga. Binago ng agham-pangkagubatan, na sinimulan ng mga dayuhang eksperto, ang magulo at masukal na kagubatan at ginawa itong isang pinag-isipang pagkakaayos ng mga puno. Binigyang-daan din nito ang pagpapaunlad ng estadong Thai, partikular ang Royal Forestry Department, ng mga bagong teknolohiya ng kontrol tulad ng pangangasiwa ng estado sa pagtotroso ng teak, mono-species management, at sentralisasyon sa pamamagitan ng paglalatag ng sistema ng perokaril.

Katulad ng paghuhubog ng pagtotroso noong panahong kolonyal sa komersyal na pagtingin sa kalikasang Thai, lumitaw naman ang mga internasyunal na institusyong post-kolonyal para ilapat sa mga bansang atrasado ang development model at national parks model mula sa mga bansang industriyalisado. Laging bukas sa pangangailangan ng pribadong industriya at turismo, ang mga parke ay naging mga pambansang sagisag rin ng moderno at sibilisadong estadong Thai. Itinataguyod at pinapangalagaan ng mga opisyal ng gobyerno, forestry technocrat at mga grupong pang-konserbasyon ang mga national park at wildlife sanctuaries para sa mga pangangailangang pang-estestiko, pang-edukasyon at pang-libangan ng mga taga-lungsod at edukadong panggitnang uri.

Ang prerekisto ng pormal na edukasyon upang sapat na mapahalagahan ang kalikasan ay ginamit upang di-maisali ang mga lokal na maninirahan at mga tribo sa kabundukan sa pangangasiwa sa mga pambansang parke at upang pahinain ang nauna at matagal nang ugnayan sa pagitan ng lokal na kabuhayan at ng kagubatan. Sa ngalan ng unspoiled nature, sila ay itinaboy mula sa mga protektadong lugar patungo sa mga nakapaligid na kagubatan kung saan wala silang karapatang pampamayanan. Ang mga lugar na ito ay bukas sa pampamahalaan at pribadong interes samantalang ang mga naninirahan ay itinuturing na mapanganib na “banta” sa natural na kagubatan, mga tagapagwasak ng bansa mismo. (Salin ni Sofia G. Guillermo)

from :Kyoto Review

The Pondok and the Madrasah in Patani

2007-06-16T01:47:00.000-07:00

Hasan Madmarn
Bangi / Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia Press / 1999

by Naimah Talib
The study of traditional Islamic institutions in Southern Thailand has not received much systematic and scholarly attention. Institutions such as the pondok (private Islamic boarding schools) are historically important to the Malay-Muslim community in Thailand. They perform a key role in providing religious instruction and also in deepening the community’s understanding of Islam. Moreover, they are closely associated with Malay-Muslim identity and often act as a pivot for Malay social life. Hasan Madmarn’s study of the pondok and madrasah in Patani is a valuable contribution to the literature on traditional Islamic institutions. In particular, he offers fascinating insight into the workings of the traditional pondok and its influential role in Patani society.

From about 1782, the Siamese monarchy began gradually to extend its influence over the Kingdom of Patani. Patani was then divided into seven administrative areas, each under the control of a Siamese-appointed chief. In the 1890s, King Chulalongkorn’s reforms creating a centralized administration undermined the power and influence of the Muslim rulers further, leading by the early twentieth century to direct control by the Siamese authority. However, Siamese officials spoke little if any Malay and governed from the towns, while the Malays generally stayed in the countryside and found security and sanctuary in their religion and culture. Today, Malay-Muslims form the majority in the four southern Thai provinces of Pattani, Narathiwat, Satun, and Yala, but make up a small minority in the country as a whole.

In the 1930s and 1940s, attempts by the Phibun government to assimilate ethnic minorities into national life had a direct impact on the Muslim community in the South. Malay-Muslims protested at the assimilation measures and there emerged growing dissatisfaction, especially among the young. This resulted in a determined attempt to revive Malay identity and raise the level of Islamic consciousness. Religious institutions such as the pondok were used to disseminate ideas of Pan-Malay nationalism and Islamic revivalism.

Hasan Madmarn’s monograph highlights some of these issues. He draws attention to the historical importance of Greater Patani as a center of Islamic learning and to the various responses of the pondok to government policies intended to modernize them. He also discusses the adjustments made by providers of religious education in Pattani province in the last few decades.

Hasan begins his study with the role of Patani as an independent Malay-Muslim kingdom in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The Patani religious scholars, the ulama, offered Islamic classical education to keen students through the pondok, providing both basic and advanced courses in Malay and Arabic. Hasan gives a detailed and excellent evaluation of Patani’s religious scholars in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, highlighting their contribution to the writing of important religious commentaries and to translation from Arabic into Malay, written in the Jawi script. Many of the ulama, such as Shaykh Dawud al-Fatani and Shaykh Ahmad al-Fatani, distinguished themselves in the religious centers of the Middle East in the nineteenth century and were connected to networks of religious scholars within the Malay and wider Muslim world. The Holy Mosque at Mecca (Masjid al-Haram) became a much sought-after destination for graduates of the Patani pondok. Hasan also stresses the importance of the Malay language in religious instruction, maintaining that much of the literature used for religious instruction was in Malay, the students’ own language.

In his study of the pondok, Hasan examines the role of Chana, a town in Songkhla province, from the 1930s to the 1950s. Chana had four major and highly regarded pondok whose reputation enabled them to attract students from all over Thailand and British Malaya. The ulama of these pondok belonged to the Kaum Tua, or traditional school, which favored “all that was traditional, unchanging and secure” (p.18). The traditional pondok system of learning is narrowly based and “medieval” at best (p.21). There is no system of assessment and students learn by rote and by taking down commentaries and explanations given by their religious teachers. As in other parts of the peninsula, the Kaum Tua came into conflict with the proponents of modernist reform, called the Kaum Muda. Hasan mentions Tok Guru Ghani, a leading member of the Kaum Muda group, who introduced the modern madrasah into the traditional system of religious instruction represented by the pondok.

In contrast to the pondok’s exclusive focus on religion, the madrasah curriculum is broadly based, emphasizes knowledge application, and has a relatively vigorous system of assessment. The madrasah is often modeled on similar schools found in the Middle East. Here it would have been useful for Hasan to discuss the relative popularity of madrasah and pondok schools before the 1960s, but he does not provide information on enrolment for these two types of institutions. More attention is given to the ulama of Patani, the mainstay of the pondok system, than to the proponents of the madrasah system.

Neither does he cover in much detail the impact of Thai government policies to upgrade and introduce secular subjects into the pondok schools in the early 1960s. This program entailed the registration of all pondok with the Ministry of Education and was aimed at transforming them into private schools subject to government regulation. This inevitably resulted in a new conception of the pondok as an educational rather than a religious institution. By 1971, 400 pondok had been registered and have survived as “private schools.” Hasan mentions the concern of religious teachers when Islam came “under government control” (p.74), but offers little evidence of resistance against the registration policy that made it compulsory for the pondok to use Thai as one of the languages of instruction.

The fears of religious teachers were confirmed by the 1987 policy extending compulsory education from six to nine years. Religious teachers at this time publicly opposed the policy because it would limit the time Muslim children could spend in religious schools. Another response to government reform was the attempt to transform pondok into madrasah. This would allow religious teachers to modernize their curriculum and include the objectives of the Thai educational system while preserving the tradition of Islamic learning associated with the pondok.

The Thai government, meanwhile, provided incentives to Muslim children to remain in public education by encouraging the teaching of Islam in elementary schools, a move that was received positively. (There was also an attempt to upgrade the standard of teaching and the curriculum of Islamic private schools, the post-registration pondok schools.) In time, Islamic subjects were introduced at the secondary level of public schools, and eventually, the Education Ministry established the College of Islamic Studies at the Prince of Songkhla University. This allowed students to pursue Islamic studies in Thailand at the tertiary level for the first time.

While Hasan has done a commendable study on the institution of the pondok, giving adequate attention to the curriculum and the learning process, and highlighting the contributions of religious scholars, he has not addressed the role of religious institutions within the broader context of political change in the Southern provinces. For example, there is no discussion of allegations that the separatist movement in Southern Thailand has used pondok as recruitment centers. Without exaggerating the importance of separatist demands, it may be worthwhile to underline the terms by which the Muslim community has tried to negotiate its integration into mainstream Thai political and social life. Education continues to serve as an important key to integration and development, as most pondok have been transformed into private Islamic schools under the government’s jurisdiction.

The competition for students between traditional, private Islamic schools and government-run public secular schools that include Islamic subject matter is also a pertinent issue not carefully examined here. At question is whether the pondok can adapt to conform to the Thai national educational curriculum and continue to exist alongside secular schools. Certainly, the pondok is under increasing pressure to redefine its role in Thai Muslim society.

Naimah Talib teaches at University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand.

from :Kyoto Review

On the Horns of a Dilemma

2007-06-16T01:46:00.000-07:00

Kasian Tejapira

Thai public intellectuals don’t seem to love and care for the people much these days. They facilely compare the Thais to chicken (I’m still puzzled why Thai people are compared to “chicken in the basket” instead of “chicken in the coop,” unless they have already had their throats cut and been plucked and boiled. But never mind. Basket is all right. Cock-a-doodle-do!) and sometimes to buffaloes (connoting stupidity and being led by the nose or even ridden by the Knight of the Third Wave—a well-known sobriquet of Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra.1 Uhhh…)
However, as a thinking Thai buffalo, I think Prof. Thirayuth Boonmee,2 in rashly comparing us to buffaloes, might have overlooked the “horns.” I mean a huge pair of “horns” that is throttling the throat of the nation and the Thais at present.

Let me start a discussion about Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra’s asset-hiding case, now being tried by the Constitutional Court, by challenging two major conceptions that have dominated public debate on this issue so far.

1) I disagree with the view that the case of Prime Minister Thaksin represents a conflict between the rule of law and realpolitik (the latter labeled by Prof. Thirayuth as the principle of “Sri Thanonchai [legendary Thai folk trickster] Science,” namely, the “Thai-Thai” way of cunningly talking one’s way out of any damning situation).

That’s too easy. I instead see this case as essentially reflecting a deep conflict, or the horns of a dilemma, between two key political concepts, Liberalism and Democracy, both of which are embodied in our current “political reform” Constitution.

2) I don’t agree that people should not “pressure” the Constitutional Court in the case of PM Thaksin.

I’d rather follow the opinion of Prof. Chaiwat Satha-anand3 that not only should people “pressure” the Constitutional Court, but they must also shake, criticize, submit petitions to, or even hold a demonstration to make the Constitutional Court aware of their opinions.

These can be done in so far as people’s opinions are expressed openly, diversely, and freely, and, most important of all, the independence of the Constitutional Court to perform its duties is not constrained. It will even help elevate the quality of public debate on the issue to a more sophisticated level (instead of just flying flags or paying group visits and presenting bouquets of flowers to the PM to show moral support).

This is what people should do if they consider the Constitutional Court their own independent organ and institution, something that belongs to the people, to be commonly held and cherished by them, rather than a monopoly of the mere dozen legal and political science experts who comprise that judicial body. Otherwise the Constitutional Court will turn into a legal-political technocratic institution above and beyond any intercourse with, or any dissenting or critical voice from, the people and hence devoid of any sense of belonging to them.

This is in accordance with the principle that “as one of their beloved possessions, the buffaloes gotta have the right to scold it!”

Isn’t it right that a Constitutional Court that isolates itself from the people and forbids any pressure from society would not be as desirable as one that is independent and yet receptive to public criticism, thereby making it possible for people to feel a sense of affection for and ownership of it?

Let me return to my first argument about the principles of Liberalism and Democracy.

The principle of Liberalism aims to limit state power. It does not permit those who hold state power to use it arbitrarily and absolutely, unconditionally and without limit for the interests of any particular person or group. The exercise of state authority must therefore be under the rule of law as well as under the control and oversight of the judiciary and other independent public bodies.

The principle of Democracy, on the other hand, aims to distribute state power to ordinary citizens so they can take part in the legislative and decision-making process concerning public issues, either directly or indirectly through their elected representatives, instead of assigning those issues to, or letting them be monopolized by, bureaucrats, traditional leaders, or technocrats.

The 1997 “political reform” Constitution embodies both these principles. Regarding the principle of Liberalism, the Constitution provides for the establishment of a number of independent public organs to check and control the conduct of politicians in office and the state bureaucracy, such as the Constitutional Court, the Election Commission (EC), and the National Counter Corruption Commission (NCCC).

As for the principle of Democracy, the Constitution lays down various provisions for popular participation in the exercise of state power, for example, community rights to local natural resources (Articles 46, 56), the right to gain access to public information (Article 58), the right to public hearings (Article 59), the right of ordinary citizens to initiate legislation through the House of Representatives (Articles 170, 335(4)) or to launch an impeachment against high political and bureaucratic office holders through the Senate with the backing of 50,000 signatures (Articles 304-305), local self-government (Article 282), a referendum to be held on the initiative of the Cabinet (Article 214), and so on.

Because the pre-existing state structure and political system have been conducive to the monopolization and centralization of power by politicians and the state bureaucracy, the Constitution attempts to redress the balance by giving tremendous authority to the new independent public institutions to check and balance the power of the former. Consequently, the past few years have witnessed the indictment and actual removal from office of several high-ranking politicians and bureaucrats, from a Director General, a Minister of the Interior, and a Senate Speaker, to maybe even the Prime Minister himself.

However, this newly created and untried power, coupled with an inclination to rigidly interpret the letter of the law, sticking fast to legal technicalities, has resulted in a marked tendency toward the use of excessive power on the part of some independent public institutions themselves. In fact, they may eclipse and suppress the political will of the people as expressed through majority rule and arguably become an autonomous and all-powerful legal-political technocracy in their own right. Hence the dissenting voices against the Election Commission’s short-circuited rulings, without due judicial process, disqualifying certain MP and Senate candidates for alleged cheating in the elections. This led to several rounds of repeated voting and a resultant furor among voters in many constituencies; violent protests even erupted in various places in the aftermath of the latest elections for the Senate and the House of Representatives. In another instance, a barrage of criticism has been directed at the National Counter Corruption Commission and the Constitutional Court for their alleged misinterpretation and misapplication of the constitutional provision for the public disclosure of assets and liabilities of individuals holding political office. There are suspicions as well that some independent public institutions have been used by rival political parties and individual politicians to seek revenge on one another.

On the other hand, the implementation of various Democracy-inspired provisions of the Constitution allowing for greater popular participation in the exercise of public power is still hampered and delayed by the absence of follow-up legislation, the unpreparedness of implementing mechanisms, and a lack of co-operation and facilitation by a state bureaucracy that is traditionally authoritarian and overcentralized in both structure and organizational culture. The resulting sluggish, inconsistent, and ineffective enforcement of these democratic provisions of the Constitution makes people feel rather powerless in the new political system, especially at the national level, as well as estranged from the independent public organs. At the very least, it is by no means clear to them how these new constitutional mechanisms of check and balance of power are important or relevant to their interests, and whether they have any real stake in them.

Others find themselves on the “horns” of this same dilemma. The overthrow and subsequent trial on charges of corruption of former President Estrada of the Philippines and the Indonesian parliament’s censure and possible impeachment of President Wahid on charges of corruption and inefficiency both reflect conflict between the principles of Democracy (the political will of the people as expressed by a majority vote) and Liberalism (the limitation, check, and balance of power of state rulers).

In Thailand, these principles are colliding head on in the asset-hiding case of Prime Minister Thaksin.

Any society, including Thailand, that is still experimenting with Liberal Democracy must learn gradually from its own mistakes and deviations until it finds its own proper balance between the principles of Liberalism and Democracy. However, these cases of conflict involve not only two abstract political science concepts, but have a basis in concrete social reality.

In the Philippines, the urban and rural poor sided with former President Estrada, despite his being a cheat, because he had at least pushed ahead with land reform, while the urban middle classes in general and the business class in particular strongly opposed him. In Indonesia, the largest Muslim organization among the rural population steadfastly supported President Wahid, whereas the urban middle classes, intellectuals, students, and businessmen were fed up to the back teeth with his inefficiency, inconsistency, flip-flopping, and inert inaction in the face of crisis.

In the Thai case, people’s organizations are impressed with PM Thaksin’s willingness to take on and pressure government agencies, giant state energy enterprises, and mafia groups in certain localities on their behalf. The poor are attracted by his social welfare policy and economic-stimulus spending schemes that extend benefits to the grass-roots level. Big Thai capitalist groups, debtor and creditor alike, are ecstatic with his measures to cushion their businesses with public money and credits against the effects of the long economic recession, shrinking export market, stagnant domestic consumer and stock markets, and capital outflows. NGOs and communitarian public intellectuals admire the position he has taken in some of his addresses questioning, challenging, and criticizing the mainstream economic development line and calling for a more independent, self-reliant alternative amidst economic globalization.

On the other hand, as Prof. Thirayuth himself has analysed, “some businessmen, members of the elite, bureaucrats, and state-enterprise executives, who dislike too fast a change and stand to lose if grass-roots people are to get a greater share of the budget, tend to support the Democrat Party.”

The most interesting group, however, are the middle classes, long the real partner in an ongoing public dialogue Prof. Thirayuth has conducted through his occasional mass-mediated personal press conferences. Yet they were noticeably skipped by Thirayuth in his latest press conference. Why? Where have they gone?

I think if we read between the lines, the middle classes have not gone anywhere but are actually the “buffaloes” Prof. Thirayuth tried to caution against practicing the principle of “Sri Thanonchai Science” and urged to increase their power of knowledge. The middle-class buffaloes turn out to be the main social group facing the “horns” of a dilemma and thus being confused, hesitant, and hypocritical.

On the one hand, they don’t want any big capitalist group to monopolize state power in order to unfairly and corruptly seek advantageous business deals for the benefit of themselves and their cronies (hence the black flags in support of the NCCC’s fair and equal investigation of state-power holders in accordance with the principle of Liberalism).

On the other hand, they are so anxious about economic fluctuations resulting from globalization that they pin all their hopes on the magic feats of the “Knight on the Black Buffalo” (hence the yellow flags and the campaign that has gathered four hundred thousand signatures so far to declare the sovereign will of the majority in accordance with the principle of Democracy).

Right at the center of the current “Thaksin Fever” lies a confused and hesitant herd of Thai middle-class buffaloes facing their own “horns.”

Kasian Tejapira is an assistant professor in political science at Thammasat University and a weekly columnist for Matichon Daily. This column appeared on 7 July 2001. It was translated by Mukhom Wongthes, a free-lance translator and researcher with the Five Area Studies Project, with editorial assistance from Kasian Tejapira.

Notes

1. Originally the title of a Thai best-seller on Thaksin’s life and career, the sobriquet alludes to Alvin Toffler’s book on the information technology revolution and to Thaksin’s successful telecoms business.

2. One of the two best-known leaders of the radical student movement of the 1970s, Thirayuth joined the communist insurgency along with thousands of students and intellectuals in the aftermath of the massacre of student protesters at Thammasat University and the military coup of 6 October 1976. In the early 1980s, serious conflicts over policy and strategy with the communist leadership led to his defection, together with that of the rank and file of the movement, to the government and the eventual collapse of the insurgency. After graduate studies in the Netherlands, he became a lecturer in sociology at Thammasat University and a highly influential public intellectual who, alone among Thai academics, can summon a throng of newspaper, radio, and TV reporters and hold a personal press conference almost at will.

3. A leading peace scholar in Thailand, Chaiwat is an associate professor in political science at Thammasat University.

from : Kyoto Review

Constraints on People's Participation in Forest Management in Thailand

2007-06-16T01:43:00.000-07:00

Pearmsak Makarabhirom

Local communities have long managed and used forests for their own livelihood. Since the central government took over forest management from the people, however, local communities have suffered and forest management has failed for lack of community participation. It is the intention of this paper to analyze the constraints on people’s participation in managing the forest.

Before the late 1800s, the Thai state was actually a number of loosely aligned kingdoms. It was not until 1886 that the central authority in Bangkok declared the forest to belong to the state. Since this time there have been four major overlapping periods in Thai forestry. The period from 1886 to 1989 saw the granting of long-term forest concessions. Twenty years after the concessions started, the Economic Forest Plantation Program began (1906-1989). The Forest Village Project ran from 1975 to 1993, and since the 1980s there have been many attempts to recognize local capacities and redistribute land. Some examples are the Sor-tor-kor (Rights for Cultivation) Project (1982-1993), the Kor-jor-kor (Land Allocation for the Poor) Project (1990-1992), and the Four Sectors Cooperation Program (1987-1992 and in revised form, 1993), comprised of government, private sector, financial institutions, and farmers.

The results of these top-down forest management schemes can be seen nationwide. A number of studies have shown that villagers do not gain proper benefits from them and do not help them in restoring the forests. On the contrary, villagers are often used as cheap labor and go into debt as a result of their participation. Moreover, corruption among officials has marred many government-run projects (Techa-artig 1996). Thus, most have been terminated or have lost momentum because local people neither want nor will participate in them (RDI 1993; Apichai 1994; Sasaki 1999). Consequently, other problems have been exacerbated, such as land tenure, biodiversity loss, cultural degradation, water shortage, and large-scale forest fire.

There is ample documentation of the failure of state-led forest management, so why hasn’t there been a move to more people-centered management approaches? This paper argues that resistance to change comes from many sectors and that finding a solution is not just about linking local research to policy processes.

A quick assessment of the situation

A survey of different regions in Thailand clearly shows the failure of state-led programs. In the northern region, highland watershed forests have been cleared for large-scale monoculture cash crops such as maize (early 1970s), cabbage (early 1970s to date), ginger (late 1980s to date), and temperate fruit trees (early 1980s). There have been many drastic conflicts in this region as well, for example, around Doi In-thanon in Chiang Mai province and in Doi Luang in Chiangrai and Phayao provinces. Moreover, the proclamation of an area as a national park effectively makes “illegal” residents of people who had settled these areas years before the proclamation. The cases of the Karen and Lahu ethnic minorities in Pang Dang village, Chiang Mai province, and the Lisu in Pai district, Mae Hong Son province, are just some examples. With few attempts made to resolve these problems, conflicts between the government and local people have escalated to the point where members of ethnic minorities have been jailed for practicing subsistence cultivation (Northern Development Foundation 1998).

In the southern region, more than 5 million rai (1 rai = .66 ha) of forest land has been converted into orchards and rubber, coffee, and oil palm plantations. Mangrove forests covering 2.3 million rai in 1961 decreased to about 900,000 rai by 2000 due to forest concessions for charcoal and poles, brackish-tiger prawn farming, and urbanization. (Royal Forestry Department 2000). Current problems include the uncontrolled cutting of mangrove trees, the use of destructive pushing gear, and near-shore fishing by trawlers and push-nets which destroy fish, coral, seagrass, and the whole mangrove ecological system. Small-scale fisherfolk suffer because the government does not enforce laws or punish wealthy concession owners. As in other areas of natural resource management, the state has resisted calls for more participation (Yadfon Foundation 1999; Watana 1998; Rithipornpun 1994).

The northeast region has sustained the worst damage (Department of Environmental Quality Promotion 1998; Bunchon 1996; Premrudeelert et al. 1994). After twenty years of forest concessions (1968-1987), 87 percent of the total land area has been degraded. Traditional local forests and public lands have been destroyed for cash crop cultivation and Eucalyptus woodlots, particularly in mid-Northeast localities such as Nong Yor forest in Surin province and Dong Keng forest in Yasothorn province.

In the central region, rich forests have been destroyed by long-term timber concessions, followed by slipper concessions (a short pole hardwood used in railway construction); bamboo concessions for the pulp and paper industry, oil and resin harvesting concessions, the expansion of export crop cultivation, and large-scale eucalyptus plantations. Extensive plans for rehabilitation through forest village and forest plantation projects failed for lack of local participation (Apichai and Danai 1996; Sasaki 1999).

In the eastern region, forests covered more than 5 million rai in 1957. At present, since the government proclaimed ownership and management of the forests, less than 500,000 rai remain. The government has established many planning and management committees that include no representative from local communities. Therefore, local people do not cooperate (RECOFTC 1994).

Forested area of more than 3 million rai in the western region, inhabited by several local ethnic communities, was proclaimed a protected area and then a “world heritage” site. Again, the Royal Forest Department set up committees to plan and manage these protected areas, which it called the “Western Forest Complex,” without involvement by the local people (Alonglod 1993; Opas et al. 1998).

Clearly, then, a major reason state-led forest management in Thailand has failed is that forest managers and politicians have not recognized or allowed local participation in natural resource management. Over the long term, this has resulted in a host of inter-connected problems including enormous loss of forest, serious environmental degradation, and more frighteningly, a major decrease in the quality of life of rural people. State-led forest management has also created a split within civil society. Urban environmentalists and rural people have vastly different views about how forest resources should be managed, what management objectives should be, and how benefits should be shared (Anun 1998; Somsak 1998; Peamsak 1999a, b).

Constraints facing community forestry

The present constitution (1997) gives authority and responsibility to community and local organizations to manage natural resources. Item 46 establishes the rights of local communities; item 56 gives management rights to individuals; item 58 asserts individuals’ right to access to news and information; item 59 gives people the opportunity for free expression of ideas; and item 79 abolishes the former governmental role in controlling resources and the environment. Unfortunately no policies or laws have implemented these objectives and they are not reflected in national forest policy, which aims to achieve long-term sustainable management of forest resources in coordination with other natural resources (RFD 1985). The policy emphasizes the roles of government and the private sector and cooperation between the two, but little is said about people’s participation. This omission has led to an entrenchment of thinking and actual resistance to the participation of local people in forest management. This is due not only to the perceived authority of the state, but to the attitude, trust and commitment, and knowledge and skill of forest officials, and to the lack of incentives for local participation.

Wrong use of state authority: Government agencies see themselves as enforcers of laws rather than managers. A forest monk who has witnessed this firsthand identifies what is wrong with their approach: “We can manage forest resources but the first thing we have to do is manage people. Those who are hungry will become more so if they cannot have access and use forests to meet their needs.” He adds that the government uses nitisat (strict rules and regulations) to manage forests, but nitisat is for criminals. Instead, the government should use ratthasat (diplomacy) to build the structures and mechanisms needed to accommodate the different interests and needs placed on forests. Laws provide very little room for working out problems; rather they stress punishment. The laws that are invoked are the Civil and Commercial Code, Article 1304 (4) for public treasures; Land and Forest Acts for forest and land uses, measures in land-use planning, land consolidation for agriculture, stipulation of forest reserve and protected areas, watershed classification, etc.; Wildlife Protection Act 1960 for wildlife; Fishery Act of 1947 for fish resources; Mineral Act 1967; and Petroleum Act 1971 for all mineral resources, including petroleum.

Ironically, those who are most to blame (concession companies and wealthy, influential national and local businessmen) rarely have to worry about such things. After allowing the exploitation of local resources, government agencies usually leave an area without proper rehabilitation. When problems are pointed out, state officials often put the blame on local people (Office of Senator’s Secretariat 1994).

Overcoming this problem requires a balance of authority within government agencies and between the state and the people. Devolution of forest management rights and authority to local communities is strongly recommended. At the local level, community organization must be strengthened and promoted in forms such as the village board committee, community committee, sub-district council, and sub-district administration organization. The roles and responsibilities of all actors must be clarified and communities should be allowed to participate in decision making as well as investigate the operation of government officials (Center for Social Development Study 1996).

Centralized management decision-making: Forest Management plans are often decided by a few high-level officials on national-level committees such as the National Forest Policy Committee, the Wildlife Protection Committee, and the National Park Committee. The objectives and policy set by these committees do not correlate with the problems and needs of local communities. In fact, the political appointees on these committees often have little understanding of local realities.

This can be overcome through a decentralization process in which the authority of central departments is transferred to local organizations at various levels. It is also necessary for representatives of the people and NGOs to be appointed to national-level committees to balance members from the governmental sector.

Attitude toward rural people and perceptions of forest use: Some government officials have negative attitudes toward local people, particularly poor people who depend on forests. They often assume that these are the people most likely to destroy forests, because they see forest use as forest destruction and do not understand local forest management. Government programs usually tell communities what to do rather than try to understand how the forest is used and how that use can be improved to support the objectives and needs of both parties. This constraint can be lessened by having local officials attend social activities in the communities (RECOFTC 1994). This would allow government officials to understand local people’s perceptions and their relationship with the forest.

Trust and Commitment: There is very little trust among the major stakeholders in the debate over who should manage the forest and how it should be managed. Past experience clearly shows the failure of government-led forest management strategies, yet there is little commitment to change. On the contrary, the forest department has been quite strategic in trying to win over public opinion by creating more national parks and demonstrating effectiveness through high-profile arrests. However, strong forest protection and crime suppression measures create negative feelings among local people toward the officers.

The way out of this constraint is for the government to review related policies, programs, and commitments with the people. Long-term commitments and agreements should be encouraged at the local level so that new initiatives can be implemented in cooperation with local people and all stakeholders.

Knowledge and Skills: Governmental officials do not sufficiently understand new concepts, strategies, and participatory methods of forest management, agroforestry, and joint/collaborative forest management (Banerjee 1992; Fisher 1995; Gilmour and Blockhus 1993). They see community forestry and community-based natural resource management (Bartlett et al. 1992; DENR 1996) as a way to control local people, not as a means to support improved forest management. They also lack skills in facilitation, community organization, and the social sciences which would help them work effectively with communities. In short, forest officers are not properly trained.

Participatory learning processes which engage government officials and local people working together must be encouraged. It is necessary to train both parties to understand new concepts, participatory approaches, and techniques. Further, government representatives posted to the districts, such as District Forest Officers and Forest Protection Officers, must be given support, encouragement, and flexibility to perform their new roles in promoting people’s participation.

Incentives: There are currently very few incentives for people to participate in forest management. Most government “participatory projects,” devised with little local input, are more about meeting government targets and objectives than about obtaining actual local participation. Protected forest management is therefore very strict, and even subsistence activities are prohibited in protected areas. In the case of domestication of forest trees in farm areas, people are afraid that if their fields become forested, the government might take them over as “forest areas” and put them under central control. In the case of teak and dipterocarp tree promotion, farmers can plant trees but have to get permission to cut, process, and transport their own wood. Clearly, the government must make benefits, including moral support, flow to all participants in forest management.

Legal and Administrative Policy: At present, forestry laws and regulations are hostile to people’s participation, especially in government-proclaimed protected areas which prohibit all use. Though there are thousands of communities managing and protecting their local forests, their activites are deemed illegal. Further, current laws and regulations prioritize the private sector, while poor upcountry people are seen as enemies of the forest. At recent Senate hearings on the Community Forestry Bill, these contradictions were raised, but instead of amending the harsh laws, the “gospel” was upheld. Local reality and decades-old laws are still in conflict.

These seven issues are not new, but have been long discussed. Most governments have not taken them into serious consideration, however, especially during the ten years before the economic crisis. In fact, government departments concerned with forest management still enjoy large budgets and thus have no reason to consult with local people. They are accountable to no one.

Conclusions and Recommendations

Promoting people’s participation in forest management requires concerted efforts on the part of government, NGOs, academic institutions, and the people themselves. In the short term, the state should create incentives to allow local people to benefit from its programs. Enforcement should give way to cautious flexibility so that new concepts, participatory approaches, methods, and techniques can be encouraged.

In the long run, forestry reform will entail the revision of goals and improvement of policy, laws, regulations, and institutions in order to implement new policies. Fundamental linkages between livelihood security (living, cultivation, and community forests) and land tenure should be recognized by the state. Parallel institutions to deal with local conditions and community objectives should also be developed. For if local people cannot make their own plans and enter freely into agreements, why would they participate? An important first step would be to engage local participation in collecting and analyzing information that would lead to forest management options suitable to local needs, while fostering a collaborative spirit between local people, NGOs, and government staff (Mather 1998: Sripen 1996). In fact, participatory action research is a highly recommended practical tool to build researchers’ working experience with local communities that can lead to wider participation.

Community forestry as seen in other countries is not just forest management, but a means to wider change and empowerment at the local level. Community forest management provides basic needs, generates income, and strengthens local capacities to manage natural resources and the environment. It contributes to the development of human resources by raising awareness and fostering right attitudes, knowledge, and skills through participatory learning. Eventually it will help to balance decision-making between the central government and local communities.

Pearmsak Makarabhirom is Program Officer at the Community Forestry Country Support Program, Regional Community Forestry Training Center for Asia and the Pacific (RECOFTC), Kasetsart University, P.O. Box 1111, Bangkok 10903, Thailand.

Tel: 9405700 ext 1228; email: ftcpsm@nontri.ku.ac.th

References

Alonglod Chukaew. 1993. Tung Yai Narasuan Forest: heritage of world’s nature and culture. Paa Kap Chumchon 6 (13), September 1993.

Anun Punyarachun. 1998. Good governance and Thailand sustainable forest management. RECOFTC Community Forest Newsletter 5 (11):4-8.

Apichai Puntasen, and Danai Srimora. 1996. Kan Dulae Raksa Pa Lae Kan Phoem Phuenthi Si Khiao Doi Kan Mi Suan Ruam Khong Prachachon (Conservation of Forest and the Regeneration of Green Areas Through People’s Participation). Bangkok: Thailand Environmental Institute.

Banerjee, U. 1992. Social forestry management in West Bengal: Experiences and issues. In Proceedings of Seminar on Sustainable and Effective Management Systems for Community Forestry, Jan 15-17, 1992, edited by Henry Wood and Willem H.H. Mellink. Bangkok: RECOFTC.

Bartlett, A.G., M.C. Nurse, R.B. Chhetri, and S. Kharel. 1992. Towards sustainable community forestry: An evaluation of community forestry through user groups in central Nepal. In Proceedings of Seminar on Sustainable and Effective Management Systems for Community Forestry, Jan 15-17, 1992, edited by Henry Wood and Willem H.H. Mellink. Bangkok: RECOFTC.

Bunchon Kaewsong. 1996. Community forest in the Northeast (in Thai). Research report, Khon Kaen University.

Center for Social Development Study. Faculty of Political Science. Chulalongkorn University. 1996. Can Land Reform Help Solve Land and Forest Problems. Seminar Proceedings. Bangkok.

Deecha Premrudeelert, Uppacha Chullatas, Deemak Yupadee, Narasaj Benchawan, Witantirawat Pakpum, and Pumsawat Nopporn. 1994. Management of natural resource and environment by local organization in Northeast Thailand. [In Thai?] Progress report. Khon Kaen: LDI, Khon Kaen University.

Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR), Republic of the Philippines. 1996. Rules and Regulations for the Implementation of Executive Order 263, otherwise known as the Community Based Forest Management Strategy (CBFMS). Manila.

Department of Environmental Quality Promotion. 1998. Northeastern Community Forest. Bangkok.

FAO. 1992. A framework for analyzing institutional incentives in community forestry. Community Forestry Note 10.

Fisher, R. J. 1995. Collaborative Management of Forests for Conservation and Development. Gland: IUCN and WWF.

Gilmour, D. and J.M. Blockhus. 1993. Buffer zone management: Concepts and issues. In Proceedings of Seminar on Buffer Zone Management in Thailand. Bangkok: RECOFTC.

Hardin, G. 1968. The tragedy of the commons. Science 162:1243-1248.

Jaroon Chunwongsa and Piroonsunthorn Wuthichai. 1997. Community’s Participation in Forest Management : A Case Study of Muang Wan Village, Nam Pong District, Khon Kaen Province. Khon Kaen: Khon Kaen Divisional Forest Office, Royal Forest Department (RFD).

Kobkul Rayanakorn. 1998. Laws and Natural Resource Management. Chiang Mai: Faculty of Social Sciences, Chiang Mai University.

Mather, R. 1998. Local people’s roles in collecting biodiversity information for protected area management, lessons learned from Thailand and Laos PDR. RECOFTC Community Forest Newsletter 5 (10):46-56.

Niti Rithipornpun. 1994. Report on community forest in the South (in Thai). Research report, Prince Songklanakarin University.

Northern Development Foundation. 1998. Impact on Relocation of Ethnic Groups in Northern Thailand. Chiang Mai.

Office of Senator’s Secretariat. 1994. Report of the Parliament’s Environmental Sub-Committee on the Study of Impact of Environmental Degradation on Natural Resource and People’s Quality of Life. Bangkok.

Opas Punya, Anuchat Puangsamree, and Vipanu Kongchun. 1998. Community and Natural Resource Management in Western Thailand. Bangkok: Faculty of Environment and Natural Resource Science, Mahidol University.

Pearmsak Makarabhirom and H. Mochida. 1999. A study on contract tree farming in Thailand. Bulletin of Tsukuba University Forest 15 (March 1999).

Pearmsak Makarabhirom. 1999a. Conflict resolution : A case study on sustainable forest management in Thailand. Progress report, Regional Community Forestry Training Center.

Pearmsak Makarabhirom. 1999b. A case study of forest law enforcement in Thailand. Paper presented at the Mekong Basin Countries Symposium on Forest Law Enforcement. Held in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, 14-16 June 1999.

RECOFTC. 1994. Pa Tawan-ok (Eastern forest). Bangkok.

Royal Forestry Department (RFD). 1985. Nayobai Pamai Haeng Chat (National forest policy). Bangkok.

Royal Forestry Department. 2000. Raingan Pracham Phi Krom Pamai (Annual report of the Royal Forest Department). Bangkok.

Rural Development Institute (RDI). 1993. Pa Chumchon Nai Prathet Thai: Naeo Thang Kan Phatana (Community forest in Thailand: Development guidelines). Edited by Saneh Chamarik and Yos Santisombut. Bangkok.

Sasaki Taro. 1999. Personal communication.

Somsak Sukwong. 1998. New Thinking in Forest Management (in Thai).

Sripen Durongkadej. 1996. Concepts of public participation in community forest management. RECOFTC Community Forest Newsletter 3 (6):17-22.

Techa-Atig. 1996. Report of the Evaluation of the Promotion of Tree Planting by Farmers in Northeast Thailand. Bangkok: Royal Forest Department.

Watana Sukunsil. 1998. Community and Coastal Resource Management in South Thailand. Pattani: PSU Pattani.

Yadfon Foundation. 1998. Mangrove Community Management: A Case Study of Tung Tong Village. Bangkok.

from :Kyoto Review

Masalah dalam Penulisan Sejarah Thailand Masa Kini

2007-06-16T01:42:00.000-07:00

Patrick Jory

Ada periode-periode tertentu ketika wacana-wacana sejarah dan politiknya – siapa yang mengendalikannya, cara-cara penyebarannya, bagaimana sejarah yang bertentangan ditekan – menjadi titik pusat perdebatan intelektual dan umum. Di Thailand hal tersebut telah terjadi beberapa waktu lalu sejak sejarah menimbulkan kegusaran terhadap berbagai kepentingan tadi. Penulisan sejarah nasionalis tampaknya telah mencapai posisi kuat (hegemoni) hingga tidaklah luar biasa jika mendapatkan sedikit oposisi. Kemudian, sebagaimana amankah upaya politik dan ilmiah tersebut setelah seratus tahun didirikan?

Dalam tulisan ini saya melihat pada sejumlah masalah pada penulisan sejarah nasionalis Thai. Pertama adalah masalah subyek wacana tersebut, bangsa Thai. Bagaimanakah penulisan sejarah bangsa Thai yang baik, khususnya sejak munculnya kritik atas konsep “bangsa” pada 1980-an oleh karya Anderson dalam Imagined Communities dan Hobsbawn dan Ranger dalam karya mereka The Invention of Tradition? Kedua, apa peran kerajaan dalam wacana tersebut? Bagaimanakah pengaruh politik dan budaya kerajaan saat ini membatasi kemungkinan penulisan sejarah Thai? Masalah ketiga adalah keterwakilan minoritas dari segi etnik dan minoritas, yang menantang pemahaman sebelumnya yang menerima begitu saja kesatuan bangsa dan keseragaman budaya.

Satu isyu baru, muncul sejak regionalisasi pada 1990-an, adalah pengaruh dari penulisan sejarah nasionalis Thai – seperti yang ditampilkan dalam drama televisi dan film, sebagaimana juga pada buku teks di sekolah-sekolah – terhadap hubungan Thailand dengan negara-negara tetangganya, yang dalam kasus tertentu menimbulkan ketegangan diplomatik. Masalah berikut menyangkut terutama sekali kepada sejarawan profesional dalam dunia akademik: pengaruh teori “pasca-modern” sejak 1990-an dan kemampuannya untuk meruntuhkan klaim kebenaran sejarah. Jika sejarah Thai adalah sederhana di antara sejarah yang tak terhitung dengan tidak mengklaim keunggulan atas atas masa lalu, apakah mereka berhak atas status istimewa? Keadaan yang menyulitkan adalah keberadaan sejarawan profesional saat ini yang hampir tak begitu penting atas atas cara pemahaman sejarah secara populer. Bagaimana kejatuhan disiplin sejarah secara kelembagaan, universitas dan lembaga pendidikan, mempengaruhi usia 100 tahun keturunannya, cerita bangsa Thai?

from :Kyoto Review

Penelitian Mengenai Trafficking Manusia di Daratan Asia Tenggara

2007-06-16T01:40:00.000-07:00

Supang Chantavanich
The Migration of Thai Women to Germany: Causes, Living Conditions and Impacts for Thailand and Germany
(Migrasi Perempuan Thai ke Jerman: Sebab, Kondisi Kehidupan dan Dampak terhadap Thailand dan Jerman)
Supang Chantavanich, Suteera Nittayananta, Prapairat Ratanaolan-Mix, Pataya Ruenkaew and Anchalee Khemkrut
Bangkok / Asian Research Center for Migration, Chulalongkorn University / 2001

Chinese Women in the Thai Sex Trade
(Perempuan Cina dalam Perdagangan Seks di Thailand)
Vorasakdi Mahatdhanobol. Translated by Aaron Stern, edited by Pornpimon Trichot
Bangkok / Chinese Studies Center, Asian Research Center for Migration, Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University / 1998

“Pitfalls and Problems in the Search for a Better Life: Thai Migrant Workers in Japan”
(Perangkan dan Masalah dalam Mencari Kehidupan Lebih Baik: Pekerja Migran Thai di Jepang)
Phannee Chunjitkaruna
Dalam Thai Migrant Workers in East and Southeast Asia 1996-1997
(Pekerja Migran Thai di Asia Timur dan Asia Tenggara)
Supang Chantavanich, Andreas Germershausen, and Allan Beesey, editors
Bangkok / The Asian Research Center for Migration, Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University / 2000

Thailand-Lao People’s Democratic Republic and Thailand-Myanmar Border Areas: Trafficking in Children into the Worst Forms of Child Labour. A Rapid Assessment
(Perbatasan Thailand-Laos dan Thailand-Myanmar: Trafficking atas Anak-anak kedalam Bentuk Buruk Pekerja Anak: Penilaian Cepat)
Christina Wille
Geneva / International Labour Organization / 2001
Dapat dibaca: http://www.ilo.org/public/english/region/asro/bangkok/library/pub1.htm

Small Dreams Beyond Reach: The Lives of Migrant Children and Youth Along the Borders of China, Myanmar and Thailand
(Mimpi yang Sulit Dicapai: Kehidupan Anak dan Pemuda Migran di Sepanjang Perbatan Cina, Myanmar dan Thailand)
Therese M. Caouette
A Participatory Action Research Project of Save the Children (UK) and the UK Department for International Development / 2001
Dapat dibaca: http://www.savethechildren.org.uk/labour/small%20dreams%20beyond%20reach.pdf

“Return and Reintegration: Female Migrations from Yunnan to Thailand”
(Kembali dan Reintegrasi: Migrasi Perempuan dari Yunnan ke Thailand)
Allan Beesey
Dalam Female Labour Migration in South-East Asia: Change and Continuity
(Migrasi Pekerja Perempuan di Asia Tenggara: Perubahan dan Keberlanjutan)
Supang Chantavanich, Christina Wille, Kannika Angsuthanasombat, Maruja MB Asis, Allan Beesey, and Sukamdi, editors
Bangkok / Asian Research Center for Migration, Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University / 2001

Trafficking manusia dari daratan Asia Tenggara pada periode modern dimulai sejak 1960-an berkaitan dengan kehadiran tentara Amerika Serikat di Indocina. Setelah tentara Amerika Serikat keluar dari Indocina pada 1975, banyak perempuan yang tetap berada pada perdagangan seks in Thailand; yang lainnya mulai bekerja di luar negeri, khususnya Jerman, Skandinavia, Hong Kong, dan Jepang. Agen-agen memfasilitasi migrasi dan lapangan pekerjaan perempuan tersebut melalui “jaringan antarbangsa trafficking manusia.” Masalah kuncinya adalah ketidakmampuan perempuan migran mengantisipasi dan mengendalikan kondisi tenaga mereka.

Bukti riset mutakhir mengenai trafficking manusia dan migrasi tidak teratur di Asia Tenggara menggambarkan beberapa “pergeseran.” Pergeseran ini bisa dilihat perekrut, penyedia jasa transpor, proses traffikcking, dan jenis eksploitasi di tempat tujuan.

Perekrutan: Jika perekrutnya cukup dikenal – seperti saudara dan teman dekat – tidak akan berakhir dengan trafficking manusia. Penggunaan kekuatan, penculikan, pengambilan paksa, dan paksaan sudah sangat berkurang. Dalam banyak kasus, pihak yang hendak melakukan trafficking mendekati perekrut untuk mencari keterangan mengenai migrasi. Pemakaian keterangan palsu mengenai pekerjaan dan kondisi kerja menjadi lebih sering diidentifikasi.

Trafficking: penyedia jasa transportasi adalah fasilitator bagi migran pelintas-batas yang ingin menghindari aturan imigrasi yang ketat dan rumit. Penyelundupan manusia merupakan terminologi yang tepat karena migran secara sukarela menyediakan diri. Tampaknya cara transportasi tidak begitu penting ketimbang melintasbatas or memotong kontrol imigrasi. Jaringan trafficking memiliki koordinasi secara horisontal di sepanjang perbatasan dalam operasi mereka. Pemakaian dokumen palsu sering ditemukan. Tujuan populer trafficking adalah lokasi-lokasi yang kontrol imigrasinya lemah dan ada banyak migran yang pergi ke sana.

Eksploitasi: selain eksploitasi seksual, perbudakan atau tpembayaran utang, orang yang di-trafficking menghadapi masalah berupa kurungan, pengambilan paksa dokumen, penangkapan dan pemerasan, lembur paksa, dan kondisi kehidupan yang berat, miskin, sesak, tak aman dan kasar. Perbudakan dan penghilangan organ manusia tidak ditemukan. Trafficking atas gadis, perempuan muda yang siap menikah, termasuk juga kegiatan yang terjadi di dalam rumah seperti trafficking atas bayi dan anak kecil juga dapat diidentifikasi. Juga sangat penting untuk dicatat bahwa jumlah perempuan yang sukarela dan mengetahui akibat bermigran untuk perdagangan seks meningkat dan biasanya mereka menjadi korban kembali. Korban yang bisa diidentifikasi biasanya tak mau dibantu dan dikirim pulang ke negeri asal.

from :Kyoto Review

Bagong Pananaliksik sa Pagtatrapik sa Tao sa Punong-lupang Timog-silangang Asya

2007-06-16T01:39:00.000-07:00

Supang Chantavanich
The Migration of Thai Women to Germany: Causes, Living Conditions and Impacts for Thailand and Germany
(Ang Migrasyon ng mga Kababaihang Thai sa Alemanya: Mga Sanhi, Kalagayang Pangkabuhayan at Epekto sa Thailand at Alemanya)
Supang Chantavanich, Suteera Nittayananta, Prapairat Ratanaolan-Mix, Pataya Ruenkaew and Anchalee Khemkrut
Bangkok / Asian Research Center for Migration, Chulalongkorn University / 2001

Chinese Women in the Thai Sex Trade
(Mga Kababaihang Tsino sa Thai Sex Trade)
Vorasakdi Mahatdhanobol. Translated by Aaron Stern, edited by Pornpimon Trichot
Bangkok / Chinese Studies Center, Asian Research Center for Migration, Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University / 1998

“Pitfalls and Problems in the Search for a Better Life: Thai Migrant Workers in Japan”
(Mga Peligro at Problema sa Paghahanap ng Mas Mabuting Buhay: Mga Migranteng Manggagawang Thai sa Hapon)
Phannee Chunjitkaruna
Sa Thai Migrant Workers in East and Southeast Asia 1996-1997
Supang Chantavanich, Andreas Germershausen, and Allan Beesey, editors
Bangkok / The Asian Research Center for Migration, Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University / 2000

Thailand-Lao People’s Democratic Republic and Thailand-Myanmar Border Areas: Trafficking in Children into the Worst Forms of Child Labour. A Rapid Assessment
(Ang Hangganan ng Demokratikong Republikang Thailand-Lao at Thailand-Myanmar: Ang Pagbebenta sa mga Bata sa Pinakamasamang Uri ng Child Labor: Isang Pahapyaw na Pagtatasa)
Christina Wille
Geneva / International Labour Organization / 2001
Basahin onlayn sa: http://www.ilo.org/public/english/region/asro/bangkok/library/pub1.htm

Small Dreams Beyond Reach: The Lives of Migrant Children and Youth Along the Borders of China, Myanmar and Thailand
(Mga Munting Pangarap na Di-maabot: Ang Buhay ng mga Migranteng Kabataan sa mga Hangganan ng Tsina, Myanmar at Thailand)
Therese M. Caouette
A Participatory Action Research Project of Save the Children (UK) and the UK Department for International Development / 2001
Basahin onlayn sa: http://www.savethechildren.org.uk/labour/small%20dreams%20beyond%20reach.pdf

“Return and Reintegration: Female Migrations from Yunnan to Thailand”
Allan Beesey
(Pagbabalik at Reintegrasyon: Mga Migrasyon ng Kababaihan mula Yunnan Patungong Thailand)
Sa Female Labour Migration in South-East Asia: Change and Continuity
Supang Chantavanich, Christina Wille, Kannika Angsuthanasombat, Maruja MB Asis, Allan Beesey, and Sukamdi, editors
Bangkok / Asian Research Center for Migration, Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University / 2001

Ang pagtatrapik sa tao mula sa punong-lupang Timog-silangang Asya sa kasalukuyang panahon ay nagsimula noong dekada 60 kaugnay ng pagkakaroon ng tropang Amerikano sa Indotsina. Matapos ang pag-alis ng mga pwersang-E.U. sa Indotsina noong 1975, ang ilang mga babae ay nanatili sa sex trade sa Thailand; ang iba naman ay nagsimulang magtrabaho sa ibang mga bansa, partikular sa Alemanya, Scandinavia, Hong Kong, at Hapon. Pinadali ng mga ahente ang migrasyon at pagpapatrabaho sa mga babae sa pamamagitan ng “international human trafficking networks.” Isang susing problema ay ang kawalan ng kapangyarihan ng mga babaeng migrante na malaman nang maaga at mapanghawakan ang kanilang kalagayang-panggawa.

Ang mga ebidensya mula sa bagong pananaliksik hinggil sa pagtatrapik sa tao at di-regular na migrasyon sa Timog-silangang Asya ay nagpapakita ng bahagyang “shift” sa konsepto ng pagtatrapik. Ang “shift” na ito ay maoobserbahan sa katangian ng mga rekruter at tagahatid, ang proseso ng pagtatrapik, at ang pagsasamantala pagdating sa destinasyon.

Pagrekluta: Nalaman na mayroong mga maaasahang rekruter – mga kapatid at malapit na kaibigan – na ang serbisyo ay hindi nagreresulta sa pagtatrapik. Ang paggamit sa dahas, pagkidnap, pagpilit, at pagtangay na lamang ay hindi na karaniwan. Sa maraming pagkakataon, ang mga biktima ay lumalapit sa mga rekruter para humingi ng impormasyon hinggil sa migrasyon. Subalit ang paggamit ng maling impormasyon hinggil sa trabaho at kalagayang-paggawa ay mas madaling natutukoy.

Pagtatrapik: Ang mga tagahatid ay tumutulong sa mga migrante na nais makaiwas sa mga mahigpit at masalimuot na regulasyon sa imigrasyon. “Human smuggling” ang masasabing ginagawa ng mga tagahatid na ito sa panahong parami nang parami ang mga migranteng boluntaryong nagpapatrapik. Maaring tignan na ang paraan ng paglalakbay ay hindi kasinghalaga ng pagtawid sa hangganan o pagpuslit sa kontrol sa imigrasyon. Ang mga network sa pagtatrapik ay mayroong koordinasyong tumatawid ng mga hangganan sa kanilang operasyon. Ang paggamit sa mga pekeng papeles panlakbay ay karaniwan. Ang mga popular na destinasyon para sa pagtatrapik ay ang mga lugar kung saan ang kontrol sa imigrasyon ay mahina at kakaunti lamang ang mga migranteng bumababa.

Pagsasamantala: Maliban sa pagkaalipin dahil sa utang o debt bondage at pagsasamantalang sekswal, ang mga taong itrinapik ay nakakaranas ng iligal na pagkakapiit, kumpiskasyon ng mga papeles, pagkaaresto at ekstorsyon, sapilitang pagtrabaho nang labis sa oras, at mahirap, masikip at marahas na kalagayan sa buhay. Walang mga kaso ng pang-aalipin at pagtanggal ng organo ng tao. Natutukoy naman ang pagtrapik sa mga batang babae para sa kasal at domestikong paggawa, gayundin ang sa mga sanggol at paslit. Mahalagang bigyang-pansin din ang pagdami ng mga kaso ng mga kababaihang boluntaryo at buong-kaalamang lumuluwas para sa sex trade at muling nabibiktima. Ang mga natutukoy na biktima ay ayaw magpatulong para makauwi.

from : Kyoto Review

Will the Mekong Survive Globalization?

2007-06-16T01:37:00.000-07:00

Charnvit Kasetsiri

The Mystery of the Mekong River

During the cool and dry season of 2001, I sailed down the Mekong River on a 200-kilometer journey beginning in southern China, passing through Burmese and Lao territory on my right and left – a designated economic quadrangle “which has not yet succeeded in becoming a hub of economic activities” – eventually reaching the Golden Triangle in Chiang Saen district of Chiang Rai province, Thailand.

The journey began with a flight from Bangkok to Kunming and on to Yunnan’s Chiang Rung (Jinghong), the “city of dawn” (not “rainbow city” as many Thais have it). There, at Sipsongpanna (Xixuangbanna), home of the Tai ethnie – Tai without the “h” of the nationalistic Thai – we encountered Tai and Tai Lue people who were becoming somewhat Sinicized. The next day, we boarded a bus at three a.m. and one hour later were riding uphill through the mountains to the border of the Chinese Empire. Fog was so thick that the road was invisible, sparing us the fright of watching the cliff that dropped off beside us! An 11-hour ferry ride still lay ahead before we reached Chiang Saen at 8 p.m. I must confess this to be one of the most memorable journeys of my life.

In the past few years, the Mekong River has become a very popular academic seminar topic. Both western and Japanese researchers flock to university meetings in Chiang Mai, Khon Kaen, and Ubon, and at Chulalongkorn and Thammasat universities, scrambling in a search of competent counterparts to join in multi-million baht research projects.

This climate of excitement led me to peruse many books on the Mekong before I began my own exploratory voyage from Chiang Rung to Chiang Saen. One that caught my attention was “The Mekong River Handbook” (in Thai), published by the Office of the Supreme Command of the Armed Forces of Thailand in 1973. Probably written under the guidance of American intelligence, which was actively fighting the “thirty years war” in Indochina, the book originated in the context of Cold War security concerns and was classified “for official use only.” It contains pictures and information about Thai provinces along the river as well as rare information about the other bank in Laos. Because it was published prior to Thailand’s tumultuous revolt of October 14, 1973, and before the US was defeated in Indochina in 1975, the book’s greatest relevance was probably to the Thai military’s crackdown on Communists.

Interestingly, the opening chapter of the book refers to the Mekong as “mysterious.” Was the river deemed mysterious because its source was in Tibet, a high plateau at the top of the world but under the rule of Communist China? During the Cold War, matters relating to any subject behind the “bamboo curtain” tended to be shrouded in mystery, darkness, and fear. The book concluded, partly in error, that there had never been an exploration that sought to map the river completely.

Prior to American hegemony, this area was under the influence of the Chinese, the French, and the British. To them, the river would not have been “mysterious.” It might have been so for the Americans, however, and perhaps for their Thai ally, both of whom who came to the area much later. When the United States followed the European path of imperialism, it went only so far as to colonize the periphery of Southeast Asia – the Philippines. The Mekong was still beyond America’s reach.

The same observation could be made of Siam. It is probable that those in the central region (Bangkok) knew very little about the Mekong area. To the central Thai, the Mekong was culturally and linguistically Lao. But the mighty Mekong did not seem so alien to those in the north and northeast such as in Lanna (Chiang Mai) and Lan Xang (Luang Phrabang and Wiangchan) or for those further south and east, such as the Khmer and Vietnamese.

New Information on the Mekong River

We can identify three special characteristics of the Mekong River: its size and length; its rich natural resources; and the ethnic diversity found along its banks.

Cartographically, one can see that the Mekong flows from the Tibetan high plateau north of Dali, a town near what was once the Nanchao Empire. (Incidentally, many Thais used to believe that Nanchao was an original Tai kingdom, supporting the idea that before Sukhothai-Ayutthaya-Bangkok, we must have come from southern China.)

According to old statistics, the Mekong River is 4,809 kilometers long, or the 12th longest river in the world. However, recent Chinese claims make it 100 kilometers longer. One of the latest findings, using remote-sensing technology, by Liu Shao Chuang of the Institute of Remote Sensing Application, in collaboration with the Chinese Academy of Science, has determined that the source of the Mekong (in common with the Yangtze River) is in the Jifu mountain range in Yushu Autonomous Region, 5,200 meters above sea level. Mr. Liu calculates that 2,198 kilometers of Mekong’s 4,909 kilometers is inside the Chinese border, where it is called the Lan Xang (Lancangjiang).

At any rate, the Mekong is clearly enormous and by far the longest river in Southeast Asia. It is an international river, flowing through the six nation-states of China, Burma, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. Its basin covers an area of 810,000 sq. km., or almost double the size of Thailand. This explains why the Mekong is a favorite of natural scientists and geographers, not to mention those fond of a well-known whisky that shares its name. (A Google search of the keyword “Mekong River” yields 83,000 listings.) Geographers say the Songkhla Lake (Thalesap Songkhla) in Southern Thailand is in fact a child of the Mekong. Mud sediment from the Tibetan plateau swept down through Vietnam and crossed to the Gulf of Thailand to form a mud wall, creating the lovely lake of Songkhla. This is something only short of a miracle!

Turning to the second point – natural resources – we need only note the keenness of economists, capitalists, developers, and others touting “mega-projects” to register the Mekong’s richness. The Mekong river basin hosts rich forests along both banks, and in Laos gold ore is being mined. It is a home to rare aquatic and non-aquatic animals such as the giant catfish, the world’s largest freshwater fish, as well as the river dolphin. In this it is second only to the Amazon River. For its rich natural resources, the Mekong has attracted European “colonializers” in the past and American “globalizers” and their colleagues in the present.

The third characteristic of the Mekong is the ethnic diversity that makes it a “heaven” as well as a “haven” for anthropologists. With 100 million people along its banks – 200 million if one stretches the definition of a riverbank – an anthropologist can spend a whole life immersed in any number of traditional (or tribal) societies. Historians, naturalists, ecologists, and NGOs are also attracted by the Mekong as a subject of study, a target for aid and assistance, or a source of quick profits.

All three characteristics – the Mekong’s reach, resources, and people – explain why the Chinese government has expressed interest in developing the river after several historical attempts by France failed. China set up an office for the development of the Lan Xang (Lancangjiang)/Mekong River in 1994. In April 2000, an agreement of free passage along the river was signed by China, Laos, Burma, and Thailand. Ferry service was inaugurated two years ago, which prompted the blasting of many of the Mekong’s rapids that block the route. This development has led to conflict over the use of natural resources.

What’s in a Name?

Let us for a minute pretend that we are not government officials or academics but rural villagers. Now, the river to us would be a source of livelihood and we may not be aware that the very same river we use daily originates in Tibet and flows out to the sea in Vietnam.

Before the river was called the “Mekong” all the way from its source to its end, people in China called it the Lan Xang (Lancangjiang) River. In Tibet (if you consider Tibet a separate socio-political entity from China), the name was Dzachu, which means “River of Rocks.” I’m not sure if the term Lan Xang is broadly used. It may be an old name that eventually became the name of a kingdom in Laos – perhaps like York in England, which gave birth to New York in the United States.

In old Lao-Tai languages (not modern Thailand’s Thai), the name “Nam Khong” (น้ำของ) for the mighty Mekong is commonly used. It happens to be the name of the district called Chiang Khong (เชียงของ) in Chiang Rai province. Somehow the “h” in Khong disappeared, just as it did in the name of the whisky Mekong (แม่โขง). Therefore, it is possible that the word Khong (ของ) is the oldest name for the river as far as the Lao-Tai are concerned.

We do not know the origin of the word “khong” or “kong,” but when considering folk culture, one may liken its sound to that of “khe” (ai khe, ai khong), meaning some kind of crocodile. From the point of view of royal culture, however, the word “khong” suggests a creolized form of Ganga or Ganges, the holy river in India, known as Khongkha (คงคา) in Thai.

Once the Mekong enters Cambodia it becomes the “Tonle Thom,” literally large river, and as it flows into Vietnam it acquires yet another name, “Gao Long” or nine dragons, giving Vietnam one of the world’s most fertile deltas for rice cultivation. Despite all this diversity, there is but one spelling of the river’s name in English.

Henri Mouhot and the Mekong “Craze” under French Colonialism

Any real traveler in the region cannot fail to have come across the name of Henri Mouhot, the French naturalist-cum-explorer, who between 1858 and 1861 obtained the support of the British to explore Siam, Laos, and Cambodia. This period was in the reign of King Mongkut, Rama IV, when Cambodia was a tributary state of Siam. (The Cambodians also sent tribute to the Vietnamese Emperor in Hue.)

Mouhot explored the central Mekong region – he was dubbed “the discoverer of Angkor” – and eventually came to Bangkok via Singapore (see his Travel in Siam, Cambodia, and Laos 1858-1860). Although Mouhot died at the age of 35, inspiring the phrase “see Angkor and die,” the success of his explorations led to Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom being named “great wonders of the East” (the term “Southeast Asia” having yet to be coined). It also led to great interest in the region among the French, who eventually colonized Indochina. Coming late to the Far East as a colonial power, they took the southern part of present-day Vietnam only in 1862. France later convinced King Narodom (the great-grandfather of the present Cambodian king) to end his country’s tributary status under Siam to become a French protectorate instead.

In this colonial milieu, France’s unhidden agenda was to use the Mekong as a “backdoor” into China. In fact, the French and British differed little from their present-day counterparts – led now by American corporations – in their mission to expand markets for their industrial products. The huge Chinese population buying their goods is what they dreamt about. How much profit could be made if every Chinese person bought one pen, one pair of shoes, or one hamburger?

In 1866, after colonizing Cambodia, Paris sent a full survey team up the Mekong to China. The British, who sought China’s “backdoor” via the Irrawaddy, satirically tagged the French survey team la monomanie du Mekong, or crazy about the Mekong. The expedition was led by the famous naval commander Dudart de Lagree.

This French expedition was very important. Dudart de Lagree was himself the French representative in South Vietnam, had visited Angkor, and was quite familiar with the region. His expedition consisted of 10 French officers, including Francis Garnier. Garnier’s name is known in Southeast Asian history as someone who was truly “mad” to defeat his British rivals. (He was later killed in Hanoi by Vietnamese nationalists.) Apart from militarists, botanists, and geologists, the expedition also included a photographer and the artist Louis Delaporte, who produced excellent photos and sketches during the trip.

The expedition set off from Saigon. It stopped to explore and photograph Angkor before passing through Vientiane, which had been abandoned and reclaimed by the jungle since the 1826 war against Siam. In Luang Phrabang the explorers were warmly welcomed by Laotian monarch King Chantharacha. Here they were warned not to proceed to China because of a looming peasant rebellion. But the warning did not stop them from continuing their trip up the river through the borderlands of Burma, Laos, and Siam, a region known today by the touristy name Golden Triangle. By the time the expedition reached southern China, Dudart de Lagree had died of illness. He was replaced by Garnier, who led the expedition to Dali where he ended its two-year journey.

All in all, the expedition from Saigon to Dali convinced the French that the plan to access China’s “backdoor” via the Mekong was impossible. The difficulties of navigating the Mekong’s rapids were immense, the distance of 3,000 kilometers too long. The plan was eventually dropped. Now we will see if the current scheme of China and Thailand to navigate the Mekong will be any more successful.

The Mekong for Navigation and Tourism

The Mekong can be roughly divided into three parts: the upper stretch, from the Tibetan headwaters to the Golden Triangle; the middle stretch, which runs through the flat terrain from Ubon province, Thailand, to Champasak, Laos; and the lower reaches, which begin where the Khone Falls plunge into Cambodia and end in the Vietnamese delta. The upper stretch of the river surveyed by the French expedition more than a century ago and revisited by us in December 2001 flows through steep gorges and is studded with rapids. We saw about 70 Chinese flat-bottom boats made of iron, mostly carrying pears and apples and cheap Chinese goods ready for “dumping” into Southeast Asian markets. It is an open question how the smaller riparian countries – Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, even Thailand – will fare from this ambitious navigation and trade in comparison with China.

Aside from trade, tourism seems to form the core economic plan of the Mekong countries. “Cultural” and “eco” are popular prefixes that make the industry sound friendly, and the countries involved anticipate quick money. However, I wonder how many tourists, especially those accustomed to the leisure-oriented style of mass tourism, would enjoy such a tough and highly adventurous trip. Our expedition in 2001 took five days. We spent about Bt 31,000 or US$ 670 per person. And I’m not sure we’d want to do it again.

At the other extreme, we heard about a grand tour organized by Diethelm Travel under the nostalgic theme “Expedition Mekong: River of Dreams.” Travel is on the Shanghai-made Hoover Craft, notorious for its noise pollution. The 17-day trip covers 2,620 kilometers, from Jinghong (Chiang Rung) to Saigon – over half the entire length of the Mekong – at a cost of US$ 4,700 (Bt 200,000). At the height of Thailand’s bubble economy in the early- and mid-1990s, a number of Thai businessmen invested heavily in Chiang Saen and Mae Sai. However, many shopping centers and other buildings erected then have been more or less abandoned since the bubble burst in 1997. Who still dreams Bt 200,000 river dreams?

Back in 2001, I brought back as a souvenir a Chinese poster advertising a Lancangjiang-Mekong River Youth Friendship Voyage on a three-storey flat-bottom boat. Chiang Rung, a major city in that area and a stop on the voyage itinerary, had in the old days selectively absorbed interesting outside influences. However, the charming traditional Tai houses there are now giving way to ugly concrete shophouses of urban Chinese style. Han Chinese culture is fast creeping into the city and replacing what was once a bastion of Tai civilization. Kids absorb the latest international fashions, not unlike kids in Bangkok’s Siam Square or Tokyo’s Shinjuku district.

A prime tourist attraction boasted by Chiang Rung are the traditional dances performed by beautiful local maidens. These dances were spectacularly “exotic” to my eyes – a kind of belly-dancing – not unlike a Hollywood farang performing a Thai dance in The King and I, the film banned in Thailand. I must be frank, however. A variation of these spectacular events is already offered in Thailand by our own tourism industry.

The Mekong in the Era of Dam Building and Rapids Blasting

A growing number of academics and NGOs are convinced that conflict over natural resources is one of the most serious problems facing the world. Technology and political power allow some to gain advantage over others in accessing those resources. At one time, Cold War fears of Communism gave the United States the opportunity to become a superpower in this region, replacing French and British imperialists. Development plans on the Mekong River were created in the name of poverty reduction with a simultaneous agenda of eradicating the influence of China and the USSR.

More recently, global “development” giants – the World Bank, International Monetary Fund, and Asian Development Bank – have poured some US$ 40 billion in loans into infrastructure projects such as roads, dams, and power plants in the Mekong region. However, several separate researches and studies undertaken by state agencies and independent organizations confirm the negative social and environmental consequences of these projects, especially the hydro-dams. Communities which depend on the fertility of the Mekong and its tributaries have suffered due to the diminishing bio-diversity of food plants and fish stocks.

Currently, the Mekong is facing two major threats: the blasting away of river rapids for ease of navigation and the construction of massive dams on the Mekong in China. To state planners and project developers, the ongoing “development” is for the well-being of the people in the region (and perhaps also their pockets), but to NGOs and those seeking smaller and more sustainable alternatives, these mega-infrastructure projects mean “damage,” “destruction,” even the “rape” of nature.

In 2000, four Mekong riparian countries – China, Thailand, Laos, and Burma – signed an agreement liberalizing navigation on the Mekong River from Si Mou in China to Luang Phrabang in Laos. Between the Burma-China border demarcation point and Huay Sai in Laos, however, more than 100 rapids were identified as “dangerous” for navigation. The current plan is to eliminate them. But will the economic benefit gained be equal in value to the massive loss in ecology and biodiversity? These rapids are home to hundreds of fish varieties and bird species. Almost all riparian Mekong communities survive by small-scale fishing. The elimination of the rapids may result in changes in the river current and soil erosion. Border lines between Thailand and Laos may even change.

If the rapids are not blasted, would it still be possible for boats to travel up and down the river? The answer is “yes,” if the type and size of boat is matched to river conditions. It is possible for 80-100 ton boats to navigate from China to Chiang Saen and Chiang Khong in Thailand. To reach Luang Phrabang the boats should be reduced to 60 tons. Moreover, roads currently under construction can connect Thailand to Laos and Yunnan as an alternative route. Would such a transport scheme be as “competitive” as a smooth-running, rapids-free Mekong? Probably not, but a narrow calculation of economic costs is not an honest calculation. The alternative approach seeks to factor ecological and economic diversity and sustainability into the equation.

The origin of China’s hydroelectric dam projects on the Mekong lie in the policy shift toward capitalism since the era of Deng Xiao Ping. The first mainstream dam, Man Wan, was completed in 1993. For the 1,500 megawatts of electricity produced by Man Wan, some 25,000 people in ninety-six communities were resettled with no right to debate or dissent. Since the completion of the dam, fishing communities downstream have reported reduced catches. It is the reality of current Chinese politics that none of the concerned communities have the right to participate in decisions made about their future lives and livelihoods.

The third of the ten dams planned, Xiao Wan, is now under construction. Estimated to be as high as a 100-storey building, it is scheduled for completion in 2012. This dam will surely have an effect on the middle 800 kilometers of the Mekong, which flow through the flat Thai-Lao borderlands, and the lower reaches, where the river first forms a delta in Phnom Penh, although it is not yet close to the sea, and in Vietnam, where the vast delta feeds almost the entire population of the southern region of this once war-torn country. What will happen to the water level of the Mekong in the next decade from Chiang Rai to Khong Chiam (Ubon)? In Champasak in southern Laos? In Phnom Penh’s delta and Vietnam’s rice land?

The ultimate question is this – is China destroying the Mekong in the same manner it destroyed the Yangtze River, or Europe destroyed the Danube, or the US destroyed the Mississippi? Moreover, as the Mekong is an international river cutting through six countries, has China consulted the countries downstream before building its dams? The answer is “No.” China seems too mighty to seek consultation with smaller countries. (Or could it be that governments of these countries have been “co-opted” by the Chinese leaders?)

The Mekong in the current era of globalization is facing conflict over natural resources and water. These conflicts may not be as acute as the war for oil we have recently witnessed, but they are like cancers slowly eating into the bones of underprivileged people in the small riparian countries. The new world emerging features not only the United States as global supercop, but China as our neighborhood superpower. And China’s power is likely to spread to mainland Southeast Asia through the Mekong River.

The author is senior adviser to the Southeast Asian Studies Program of Thammasat University, Bangkok. He can be reached at charnvitkasetsiri@yahoo.com

from :Kyoto Review

Democratization in Thailand: Grappling with Realities

2007-06-16T01:34:00.000-07:00

Democratization in Thailand: Grappling with Realities
『民主化の虚像と実像－タイ現代政治変動のメカニズム』
Tamada Yoshifumi
玉田芳文
Kyoto / Kyoto University Press / 2003

by Okamoto Masaaki
This review was originally published in Japanese in the Graduate School of Asian and African Studies journal ASAFAS, No. 4 (2004): 136-140. It was translated by Hosoda Naomi.

Dr. Tamada Yoshifumi, a distinguished scholar of modern Thai politics at Kyoto University, was awarded the 20th Masayashi Ohira Memorial Prize in 2004 for this treatment of democratization in Thailand, which the author based on substantive empirical data while carefully avoiding the pitfall of over-theorizing.

The book focuses on the 1990s, when the threat of military coup hung over Thailand. From February 1991, the military began to take a back seat in politics and democratization made definite progress with the emergence of party politics. But by the mid-1990s, there was growing disenchantment with the way party politics was working, and people began advocating for reforms that led eventually to the enactment of the 1997 constitution, considered the most democratic in Thai history. How did this come about?

Thai researchers and public intellectuals generally point to the leading role played by the middle class, particularly beginning with the Phrutsapha Thamin Incident in May 1992. After the March 1992 electoral victory of a coalition of pro-military parties, General Suchinda Khraphrayun, commander-in-chief of the army, broke his promise and became prime minister. This precipitated a massive protest that was met by a military response, resulting in the death or injury of more than 100 persons. The military’s firing on protesters accelerated middle class-led public criticism, which eventually forced the military to withdraw from the political arena. Because of its active role in the protests, the urban middle class has since been regarded as an invaluable actor and promoter of democracy.

This evaluation of the middle class – a change from its estimation as politically marginal in the 1980s – seems to confirm modernization theory’s argument that economic growth expands urban middle classes and lays the groundwork for the expansion of democracy (pp.22-23). But Tamada calls this popular assessment an “unreal portrait” and presents an alternative account of the democratization process.

The book is divided into Part One, on the May 1992 incident, and Part Two, on political reformists and the new constitution. Its seven chapters discuss different views of Thai democratization, the causes and effects of the mass protest rallies of 1992, the decline of military power, the 1997 constitution, the 2000 senatorial election, the 2001 general election, and a conclusion on democratization.

In Tamada’s alternative portrait of democratization, the lead actor in the May Incident is opposition party leader Major General Chamlong Simuang, who successfully mobilized the masses. But since the King blamed the ensuing bloodshed on him and Prime Minister Suchinda, Chamlong’s credibility was eroded and the middle class was able to appropriate both the struggle and the leadership of the reform movement. In this it received tremendous help from the mass media, which overrated the middle class role and annointed it the vanguard of democratization. The middle class went on to support the political reform movement that culminated in the passage of the 1997 “genuine people’s constitution.”

Tamada further argues that the military’s withdrawal from politics was “not due to external factors such as the end of the Cold War, worldwide democratization trends, rapid economic growth followed by collapse and urban middle class pressure, or obscure factors like a change of mind among the soldiers, but rather from personnel issues” (p. 133). He notes that the military’s tough line against the protestors originated with pro-Suchinda officials who saw the preservation of his administration as the best way back to stability. But there was opposition within the army as well, and once pro-Suchinda officials proved unable to maintain the status quo, divisions within the ranks weakened military leadership and undermined the commander-in-chief’s ability to plot another coup.

With the military withdrawing from politics and democratization progressing, the major political rivalry became that between the urban and the rural sector. The urban middle class began to call aggressively for political reform, targeting the local capitalists/party politicians who dominated national politics on the basis of votes from the populous rural areas. In the 1980s, Prime Minister Prem Tinsulanond, with support from the King and the military, had implemented a “controlled transition” to conservative democracy by winning over MPs with development fund allocations, while neutralizing leftist parties. His efforts definitely strengthened political parties: no longer was rhetorical talent sufficient to get elected; financial power became the crucial instrument. Capitalists controlled parties, parties controlled politicians, politicians controlled vote-brokers, and vote-brokers bought votes from the electorate. In this way, the political system gave the upper hand to party politicians and political stability was achieved. Whereas it had previously been said that Bangkok controlled the rural sector and regarded its people as “second-class citizens,” from the 1980s onwards, the balance of power between the two sectors was reversed.

The urban middle class, dissatisfied with this power shift and emboldened by its successful “takeover” of the lead role in the May Incident, began to criticize corruption and call for clean, efficient, and stable government. Middle class activists made up for their numerical deficiency by developing a stronger voice and turned themselves into a “civil force” by mobilizing intellectuals, capitalists, and NGOs. This neutralized the “smaller” voices of the more numerous farmers.

The movement climaxed with the enactment of the 1997 constitution. Despite being known as the “genuine people’s constitution,” it actually favored the minority urban middle class over the majority rural population. The constitution deprived 95 percent of the rural population of eligibility to run for office by stipulating that candidates must have at least a college education. It also favored the election of urban elites through proportional representation and their accession to cabinet seats by practically excluding those elected from single-seat constituencies – the majority of whom come from rural areas.

Tamada thus argues that the portrait of the urban middle class as a supporter of democracy and vanguard of democratization is an “unreal portrait”: this class actually opposed the rural-based democracy of party politicians. The 1997 constitution did not deny democracy outright, however, but rather “consoled” the urban middle class, which might otherwise have turned against democracy altogether. In this way, it did contribute to democratization.

In the 2001 general election, Thaksin Shinawatra’s Thai Rak Thai Party won by a landslide. With a stable majority in parliament, Prime Minister Thaksin appointed those elected through the proportional representation system to his cabinet, making leadership less difficult to exercise. He was also able to move around personnel in the bureaucracy and the military, giving him a strong bargaining position vis-à-vis these two state institutions. The regime appeared very stable when this book was written [and has since been re-elected with a greater majority], but Tamada expresses concern that if it weakens, political instability will return. This is the “real image” of contemporary Thai politics that concerns the author.

I would like to add a number of comments from the viewpoint of a non-specialist on Thai politics. First, the author convincingly disproves the popular view of the urban middle class as a promoter of democracy in Thailand in the 1990s. In place of this “unreal portrait,” Tamada asserts the “real image” of a middle class camouflaging itself with democracy in order to usurp the leading role in the 1992 May Incident. It then proceeded to advocate clean, efficient, and stable government and to criticize rural party politicians, a movement culminating in the enactment of the 1997 constitution with its undemocratic elements. This logic is very clear and is backed up by a wealth of data.

The book also characterizes the urban middle class as a passive force against democratization and aims to explain how such passive forces were appeased. But its description of the process leading to the new constitution leaves us with the impression that the middle class was in fact actively and positively pursuing political reform. In this sense, it may be more appropriate to view the urban middle class as a group actively pushing for its own self-interest by exploiting ideological slogans like clean, efficient, and stable government.

Second, the book provides a straightforward and insightful account of some characteristics of Thai politics. Nonetheless, the statement that Thai politicians “could be blunt about [disregarding the demands of] the electorate” (p. 339) requires some explanation. Presumably, it remains imperative for politicians to respond to constituents’ everyday requests and demands, and in fact Thai parliamentarians have funds comparable to the so-called “pork barrel” in the Philippines. Those appointed to the cabinet also have the capacity to return part of their “profits” to their respective constituencies. This is probably a major reason for the high re-election rate of incumbent parliamentarians. When the author writes about a “party politics that could detach itself from the electorate in a way,” he is perhaps referring to the fact that party politicians do not translate the electorate’s demands into policy at the national level.

Third, the book attributes the stability of the Thaksin administration to its successful control of the cabinet, parliament, bureaucracy, and military. The administration also spends money recklessly in the countryside to gain the upper hand there. But how to describe the relationship between the Thaksin administration and the middle class which gave form to the 1997 constitution? If the Thaksin administration was one consequence of that constitution, then surely it has adopted policies favored by the middle class. Moreover, Thaksin the capitalist could be expected to take urban middle class interests into consideration. It would have been interesting if the book gave concrete examples of this. And if the administration did adopt policies favoring the urban middle class, it would no longer be able to treat it as a single entity, because various sectors of the class would offer different levels of support to the administration. In the future, these distinctions may enable other parties pursuing policies different from Thaksin’s to gain ground.

Fourth, the author cites as an urban bias the college education prerequisite for candidacy. It is true that this constitutional provision excludes the great majority of the rural population. However, it may not be a serious issue for local capitalists who can simply buy a diploma. It is the poor, both urban and rural, who are discriminated against by this provision.

Fifth, Tamada begins the book by defining Thai democracy as a constitutional monarchy and parliamentary system with competitive and fair elections underpinning regime change; he notes that elected members of parliament, including the prime minister, can become cabinet members (p. 17). This definition is at the core of the book’s argument. My question is whether this is how Thai people define democracy, or whether is based on the author’s deduction. In either case, the author could usefully discuss this definition in greater detail.

Professor Tamada’s book discusses Thai politics of the 1980s and 1990s so thoroughly that it should certainly be read by scholars and researchers interested in the period. What is left for future research in modern Thai politics? One topic is the Thaksin administration; another is the varieties of local or rural political situations that the author alludes to in a separate essay.

Okamoto Masaaki is an assistant professor at CSEAS writing a dissertation on Indonesian politics.

from :Kyoto Review

Mga Suliranin sa Nasyonalistang Historiograpiyang Thai sa Kasalukuyan

2007-06-16T01:33:00.000-07:00

Patrick Jory

Mayroong mga panahon kung kailan ang mga diskursong historikal at ang pulitika ng mga ito—sino ang kumokontrol, ang paraan ng pagpapalawig sa mga ito, at kung paano isinusupil ang mga katunggaling kasaysayan—ay napapagitna sa debateng intelektwal o publiko. Sa Thailand, may katagalan na rin mula nang ang kasaysayan ay nagbunga ng ganitong interes. Ang nasyonalistang historiograpiya ay lumilitaw na umabot sa pusisyon ng hegemonya na kapansin-pansin kung hindi dahil sa katotohanang halos wala itong nakahaharap na oposisyon. Gaano katatag, samakatwid, ang pampulitika at pang-akademikong proyektong ito, isang dantaon mula nang ito’y inilunsad?

Sa papel na ito, tinitignan ko ang ilang mga suliranin ng kasalukuyang nasyunalistang historiograpiyang Thai. Ang una ay ang problema ng paksa ng mga naratibong ito, ang bansang Thai. Paano ang naging takbo ng historiograpiya ng bansang Thai, laluna matapos ang critique sa konsepto ng “bayan” na ibinunga noong dekada otsenta ng mga sulatin tulad ng Imagined Communities ni Anderson at The Invention of Tradition nina Hobsbawm at Ranger? Pangalawa, ano ang papel ng monarkiya sa mga naratibong ito? Paano nalilimitahan ng kasalukuyang impluwensyang pulitikal at kultural ng monarkiya ang mga posibilidad ng historiograpiyang Thai? Ang ikatlong problema ay paglalarawan sa mga minoryang etniko at rehiyonal na humahamon sa dati’y simpleng pag-unawa sa isang nagkakaisa, at nag-iisang kulturang bansa.

Isang bagong usapin, lumitaw mula noong rehiyonalisasyon ng dekada nobenta, ay ang epekto ng nasyunalistang historiograpiyang Thai—inilalarawan sa mga dramang pantelebisyon at pelikula, at maging sa mga aklat pang-eskwela—sa relasyon sa mga karatig-bansa ng Thailand na, sa ilang mga pagkakataon, ay humantong sa tensyong diplomatiko. Ang sumusunod na problema ay kaugnay sa mga propesyunal na istoryador sa akademya: ang impluwensya mula dekada nobenta ng teoryang “postmodern” at ang pagkukuwestyon nito sa mga ipinapalagay na katotohanan ng kasaysayan. Kung ang kasaysayang Thai ay isa lamang kwento sa di-mabilang na mga kwento at hindi nakalalamang ang karapatan bilang awtoridad sa nakalipas, karapat-dapat ba rito ang pribilehiyado nitong katayuan? Ang huling suliranin ay ang kasalukuyang kalagayan ng propesyunal na kasaysayan na halos walang kaugnayan sa pagtingin ng madla sa kasaysayan. Paano naapektuhan ng paghina ng disiplina ng kasaysayan sa kanlungang institusyonal—ang mga unibersidad at institusyong pang-edukasyon—ang iniluwal nito isang dantaon na ang nakalilipas, ang kasaysayan ng bansang Thai?

(Translated by Sophia Guillermo.)

from :Kyoto Review

Recent Research on Human Trafficking in Mainland Southeast Asia

2007-06-16T01:30:00.000-07:00

Supang Chantavanich

Human trafficking from mainland Southeast Asia in the modern period started in the 1960s in connection with the presence of United States troops in Indochina. The foreign male clients of the sex trade at that time were American soldiers using Thailand as a rest and relaxation area, with some also seeking temporary partners or “rental wives.” After the withdrawal of U.S. forces from Indochina in 1975, some women remained in the sex trade in Thailand, serving male tourists who came on “sex tours.” Others began working abroad, especially in Germany, Scandinavia, Hong Kong, and Japan. Agents facilitated the migration and employment of women through “international human trafficking networks.” A key problem has been the inability of women migrants to anticipate and control the conditions of their labor. “Some women entered the trade willingly. Others were deceived into believing they would have work and/or opportunities abroad unrelated to the sex trade” (Chantavanich et al. 2001:7-8). Further, although some women knew that they would become sex workers, they were not aware of the working conditions they would encounter.

Six recent research reports on human trafficking will be summarized below to illustrate current trends and problems faced by migrants.

The Migration of Thai Women to Germany: Causes, Living Conditions and Impacts for Thailand and Germany
Supang Chantavanich, Suteera Nittayananta, Prapairat Ratanaolan-Mix, Pataya Ruenkaew and Anchalee Khemkrut
Bangkok / Asian Research Center for Migration, Chulalongkorn University / 2001

[This study was conducted in 1997-98; the English version of the report was published in 2001. Findings are mainly from 1997-1998.]

Thai women migrants to Germany draw upon five main sources of assistance in their migration process: friends and immediate relatives; husbands; boyfriends; marriage agencies; and Thai and international employment agents. Women being assisted by their friends and family are less likely to be cheated, and the assistance seems to be much safer than that received from husbands and boyfriends. Unfortunately, many of the women who receive help from sources other than close family or friends are often deceived in some aspects of the migration.

The free flow of Thai women migrants to Germany is enhanced by the lack of efficient control over trafficking within Thailand and internationally, together with lack of government policies to regulate the migration of women who are not laborers. Women migrate for both marriage and for employment, the latter including commercial sex work and other jobs.

Thai women can be decision-makers in the migration process: they understand the implications of their decisions and make them independently. However, some women are also victims of economic and social exploitation. Women therefore often fall partly into two categories: they exercise some decision-making power, but are also exploited and cheated. Those who migrate to Germany for marriage are usually in a stronger decision-making position; the women who migrate for employment often lack information and are deceived from the start.

Until recently, Germany has had relatively relaxed immigration laws which has made it easy for Thai women to enter the country. Recent changes have made the process of migration to Germany much more complex. The costs of migration have also risen, resulting in larger numbers of illegal Thai migrants. In Thailand itself there are few regulatory systems and procedures for administering the migration process, especially for Thais who migrate independently rather than through employment recruitment agencies.

Chinese Women in the Thai Sex Trade
Vorasakdi Mahatdhanobol. Translated by Aaron Stern, edited by Pornpimon Trichot
Bangkok / Chinese Studies Center, Asian Research Center for Migration, Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University / 1998

Thailand is a major destination for Chinese women both deceived and willingly entering the Thai sex trade. It has been well-known for some time that Thailand has a large commercial sex market and that a variety of services are available. Women are the market’s most important commodity, and Chinese women are one of the market’s offerings. The methods used by underworld groups or gangs to lure women into the sex trade differ little from those used to deceive northern Thai women roughly thirty years ago, when Thailand was in a era similar to China’s current stage of economic change.

The ease with which people can pass across borders creates the opportunity for criminal activity and makes trafficking Chinese women easy, despite differences in language and culture. These same differences make it more difficult for women to flee. It is possible to describe the ways the gangs moved women from place to place:

First, the gangs used one of two methods. Either an intermediary known by the women or a gang member contacted the woman directly. Second, they convinced the woman to leave her home, and third, led her across the border. Fourth, the woman was swapped between the Chinese, Burmese, and Thai gangs, and fifth, the woman was handed over to a person in Thailand before being taken to the sex establishment. The gangs had clear procedures for deceiving and transporting the women.
The gangs had a strong network of people. At each of the different points along the routes used to transport women, the gangs had connections with people of various nationalities. When the women arrived in Thailand, the network was evident from the way they were delivered to the sex establishments. The persons delivering the women knew how many women each establishment desired.
The gangs had a single objective, to deceive Chinese women into the Thai sex trade. The gangs focused on this goal and showed little interest in the women’s appearance or backgrounds. Under the gangs’ practices, there were no detailed conditions for choosing which women to traffic.
Though illegal, the gangs’ activities were very systematic, well-organized, and well-coordinated. Further, they were coordinated horizontally, not vertically, i.e. not conducting their activities as a single organization. If such an organization existed, it had a very loose structure.

“Pitfalls and Problems in the Search for a Better Life: Thai Migrant Workers in Japan”
Phannee Chunjitkaruna
In Thai Migrant Workers in East and Southeast Asia 1996-1997
Supang Chantavanich, Andreas Germershausen, and Allan Beesey, editors
Bangkok / The Asian Research Center for Migration, Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University / 2000

In 1996-1997, the author found that the prime reason for Thai women to migrate to Japan was to earn fast money in order to have a more comfortable lifestyle. This was a reflection of change in village value systems following the Thai government’s adoption of the western ideology of development and capitalism. Japanese border controls were regarded as a barrier both by Japanese employers and the foreign workers themselves. Therefore in order to enter Japan, Thai workers may have to pose as tourists and overstay their visas. But to guarantee entry, most Thai workers depended on high-cost brokers and the criminal underworld (the Japanese yakuza or the Chinese Snake Head gang).

The smuggling of unskilled foreign workers across borders has become an international business. Brokers and organized crime work closely within transnational networks to arrange each stage of the smuggling operation, from preparing travel documents and taking workers to Japan, to finding them jobs and extracting payment after arrival. Most Thai workers borrow a lot of money from relatives or loan sharks to pay the brokerage fees and, once they arrive in Japan, face years of work to pay off this debt. Some unscrupulous brokers have also seduced and taken Thai women to Japan, where they are detained and forced to work as prostitutes in “snack bars” or brothels. These underworld groups keep the women’s passports and air tickets and watch them at all times so they cannot escape. If the women refuse to cooperate, the yakuza may increase their debt or sell them to a brothel.

Because ordinary Thais are often ignorant of the immigration rules of both Japan and Thailand and the brokers are purely concerned with profit, a considerable number of Thai workers with illegal status have encountered problems in Japan. These include deportation by Japanese authorities, communication difficulties, hospital treatment, exploitation and discrimination by employers or native Japanese, liabilities, fraudulent practice, and poor accommodation.

However, despite the difficulties many illegal Thai workers have coping with life in Japan, they are likely to continue working and living there. The reasons they prolong their stay affirm that their main purpose in coming to Japan was to earn money. Failure to earn enough money to buy consumer goods upon returning to Thailand would be considered a “loss of face” which could be damaging to the social standing of themselves and their families.

Moreover, female Thai workers who have engaged in prostitution find it difficult to go back to their villages since all values have not changed; prostitution is still regarded as shameful. According to these traditional values, “good women” must be virgins before marriage. Thus women who have been employed in the sex industry – whether deliberately or under duress – will usually face criticism from their community and may be unable to marry. Other female workers stay because they wish to marry Japanese men or have children of Japanese nationality in the hope of gaining legal status and social welfare benefits.

But most Thais working in Japan remain to pay off the debt and bondage incurred when they received assistance from the brokers. Initially hoping to earn fast money to pay off their debts and save enough to return to Thailand, many Thai workers chose to put up with demanding work, unfair payment, and no provision of welfare. Consequently, these workers are voluntarily turning themselves into a segregated, marginalized, and discriminated against ethnic group.

In order to continue working and living in Japan, they adapt by using a Japanese name at their workplace and tend to stay inside their apartments for fear of deportation. Simultaneously, they maintain contacts within their ethnic groups and networks as well as their families in Thailand. As a marginalized people in Japan, illegal Thai workers are likely to retain their identity and depend on their ethnic group. Despite the fact that their lives in Japan are tough, they manage by depending on friends, relatives, brokers, the underworld, and NGOs when encountering problems.

Thailand-Lao People’s Democratic Republic and Thailand-Myanmar Border Areas: Trafficking in Children into the Worst Forms of Child Labour. A Rapid Assessment
Christina Wille
Geneva / International Labour Organization / 2001
Read online at: http://www.ilo.org/public/english/region/asro/bangkok/library/pub1.htm

Although trafficking is often considered a single process of transportation from place of origin to place of work, this study found that it occurred in only about one third of the cases. Recruitment directly from a child’s village was most common for girls and Laotians. In the majority of these cases, however, foreign children were recruited for labor exploitation within Thailand after having made separate arrangement to enter the country. It was not uncommon for minors to know about a particular workplace in Thailand and approach an employer or recruiter upon entering the country.

In most cases the minor or minor’s family took the initiative to obtain details on work opportunities outside their village. Fellow villagers and friends were the most common sources of information about particular jobs and general work opportunities, and in the majority of cases minors or their families knew someone who could arrange their transportation and/or recruitment. Parents rarely appeared to be the main driving force behind the decision for a minor to leave for work. In over one-third of the cases, the decision was taken jointly by the parents and child. But the most common decision-making process reported by minors was that they had made the decision to leave on their own; many did not even inform their parents because they expected them to disapprove. Minors expressed a wish to see the world outside their village, and still others left to escape an unhappy or difficult home life or family situation. The majority of the parents of the children had no information or only partial information on their child’s situation.

In cases where the minors arrived in Thailand before they began to work, it was most common for them to arrange the travel themselves. This was particularly common for boys and Laotians. For girls and ethnic minorities, it was more common to be accompanied by a family member who made most of the arrangements. In the less frequent situation, where the minor travelled to Thailand having already been recruited for a particular job, different types of actors organized the transportation. Most commonly these were trusted friends of the family. In almost half of the cases, the transporters were linked to an organized network of transporters, recruiters, and employers. It was less common for these minors to arrange their own transportation or for family members to be the main transporters, and strangers accounted for only about a quarter of the transporters.

In most cases minors were recruited into the worst forms of child labor in the town where the work was located, and most minors made their own way to these localities. Some had been recruited to a particular job before entering Thailand and children recruited at the border site for transportation to work elsewhere in Thailand were rare. The majority of minors had entered the worst forms of child labor within one month of arriving in Thailand. In some cases children had carried out some other kind of work before entering the worst forms of child labor. Some children carried out temporary work in agriculture or helping Thai families with odd jobs such as food preparation, dishwashing, or babysitting.

In over half of the cases where recruitment took place, no profit was made in the transportation or recruitment process. In the small number of case where a profit was made upon the recruitment of a child for work, usually the child became the possession of the employer at least until a certain amount of profit was made. In other cases, the family paid a fee for the transportation and job placement of the child.

Although the majority of the minors believed they had not been tricked or coerced into work, many children said they had only been told part of the truth and half of the children said that they knew almost nothing about the nature of the work they would be doing or the conditions under which they would be working. More specifically, the children reported very low levels of awareness about working hours, working conditions, living conditions, and the degree of freedom they would have while living and working in Thailand.

Small Dreams Beyond Reach: The Lives of Migrant Children and Youth Along the Borders of China, Myanmar and Thailand
Therese M. Caouette
A Participatory Action Research Project of Save the Children (UK) and the UK Department for International Development / 2001
Read online at: http://www.savethechildren.org.uk/labour/small%20dreams%20beyond%20reach.pdf

The majority of cross-border migrants from China and Myanma into Thailand were young, came from rural areas, and had little or no formal education. Along all the borders, young people began migrating on their own at about the age of thirteen. Some children under that age also migrate on their own, though most are accompanied by parents or relatives.

The decision to migrate is complex and usually involves numerous overlapping factors. Children and youth did not give one reason exclusively, but an explanation that included economic survival, war, refuge, government policies, personal problems, and envisioned opportunities abroad. The majority of migrants first explained their move to find work as necessary for their daily survival.

Migrants travelled a number of routes that changed frequently according to their political and economic situation. The vast majority crossed without documentation and even those with travel permits often stayed beyond their expiration or did not abide by the restrictions placed on their visit, with the ultimate result of being identified as illegal immigrants.

Generally, migrants leave their homes not knowing what kind of job they will find abroad and even when they think they know, they often find it is not what they expected. The actual jobs available to migrants were very gender specific. Migrant girls and women sought jobs in factories, shops and restaurants, sex work (direct or indirect), the entertainment industry, or as domestic workers (cleaning and care taking). Male migrants found jobs in the fishing and agricultural industries or as manual day laborers or construction workers.

Though the living and working conditions of cross-border migrants vary according to the place, job, and employer, nearly all study participants noted their vulnerability to exploitation and abuse without protection or redress. The study revealed extensive debt-bondage, sexual abuse, illegal confinement, confiscation of documents, arrest and extortion, forced overtime, few basic resources, and poor accommodations that were overcrowded, insecure, and often violent. Sexual abuse was commonly reported among girls and young women, particularly among those involved in sex work and domestic service.

Trafficking of persons, predominantly children and youth, was common at all sites. The majority of young women and children were trafficked into sex work, marriage, domestic work, or begging. It was found that the majority of girls from migrant communities along the Thai-Myanmar border left their border villages for jobs further inside Thailand. Typically, girls were recruited during the fifth and sixth grade. Trafficking into marriage was also frequently reported by girls and young women from minority communities in Northern Shan State, who often were forced into marriages deeper in China. Many domestic workers from Myanmar also reported being trafficked into domestic work and forced into arrangements and conditions without their knowledge or agreement. Trafficking of young children and babies was reported from Myanmar into China.

Migrants frequently considered their options and opportunities to return home. For many, the decision to return revolved around issues of security and logistics. Discriminatory attitudes towards those who have migrated, especially girls and young women, made the reintegration process extremely difficult, often resulting in further migration.

Though many acknowledge that growing numbers of children and youth migrate with or without their families, there is little awareness of their concerns and needs and extremely few interventions undertaken to reach them.

“Return and Reintegration: Female Migrations from Yunnan to Thailand”
Allan Beesey
In Female Labour Migration in South-East Asia: Change and Continuity
Supang Chantavanich, Christina Wille, Kannika Angsuthanasombat, Maruja MB Asis, Allan Beesey, and Sukamdi, editors
Bangkok / Asian Research Center for Migration, Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University / 2001

This study depicts the movement of women from selected villages in one county of Yunnan into Thailand. It shows that many have traveled to Thailand to work wherever there was a demand. The service industry is a major employer, especially the sex industry, although other work is available. Some women have journeyed just to the north of Thailand, an area of traditional trading networks with kin and cultural networks.

There is limited research in Thailand which can track or quantify the movement of Yunnanese into the country. Women in sex work constitute a visible migratory movement which has attracted publicity and some research. This is some evidence that men are migrating as well, but villages in this study area did not provide much evidence of this. Other border villages in other counties and prefectures may provide a different picture.

When the political situation in the area became more stable in the late 1980s, traffickers were quick to take advantage of people wanting to travel to Myanmar and Thailand. The migration of women from the southern prefectures of Yunnan began through traffickers assisting individual women and often cheating or luring them through fake offers. Since the mid-1990s women appear to be making more informed choices. Through their own experience or the experience of others, they are more autonomous and less dependent on traffickers or other assistance, and they may be working in less exploitative working conditions. For some, however, the monetary rewards in compensation for migration are limited, so they may be disappointed. The opportunity to earn a good income has declined since the financial crisis in Thailand. However, if they learn something from the experience, as many say they do, then the monetary rewards are an added bonus or part of the realization of two goals.

It may appear remarkable that since the early 1990’s, trafficking through deception and violence has been transformed into a voluntary movement of women who are often fully aware of the nature of the work they are accepting. Despite the highly stigmatized nature of the occupation, women can rise above the stigma by sharing their earnings and gaining prestige in their village. This shift from trafficking to voluntary movement and to the work gaining acceptability is well documented for northern Thailand. There also appears to be a reduction in negative attitudes toward returning women as it becomes increasingly common in certain villages. This represents a dramatic change since the early 1990s.

Conclusion

Evidence from research on human trafficking and irregular migration in Southeast Asia illustrates some “shift” in the notion of trafficking. The shift can be observed in three aspects of the definition: the nature of recruiters and transporters; the process of trafficking; and exploitation in place of destination.

It is found that there are certain safe recruiters – siblings and close friends – whose service will not result in human trafficking. Those are cases of fortunate predecessors who want their sisters or best friends to have the same opportunities, such as marriage to a good foreign husband or work with a kind employer. The use of force, kidnapping, coercion, and abduction are becoming less common in recruitment. Only trafficked babies are clearly kidnapped. The use of false information about employment, working conditions, and difficult situations which victims may encounter are more frequently identified. Travel agencies and mail-order bride services are a disguised form of recruitment which legally operate internationally. With regard to transporters, they are facilitators for crossborder migrants who want to circumvent restrictive and complicated immigration regulations. Human smuggling is the relevant term for these transporters. The case of human smuggling has become more frequent because many migrants are voluntarily trafficked. In many cases, trafficked persons approach recruiters to seek information about migration. Ethnic minorities are new targets of recruiters and transporters.

There are many steps in the trafficking process, especially if the trafficked person originates in a remote area. It seems that the type of carrier or means of travel is less significant, while the border crossing or passing of immigration control is more important in the transporter’s role. Trafficking networks coordinate horizontally across borders in their operation. The use of fraudulent travel documents is commonly found. Popular destinations for trafficking are locations where immigration control is lax and few migrants disembark.

The nature of exploitative conditions in Southeast Asia differs from that described in the Trafficking Protocol. Apart from slavery or debt bondage and sexual exploitation, trafficked persons encounter illegal confinement, confiscation of documents, arrest and extortion, forced overtime, and poor, overcrowded, insecure, and violent living conditions. Servitude and the removal of human organs are not found. Trafficking of girls and young women into marriage and domestic work are identified, as is that of babies and young children. It is vital to note the increasing cases of women voluntarily and knowingly migrating into the sex trade and becoming revictimized. Identified victims do not want to be assisted and sent back home.

The realities of human trafficking in Southeast Asia indicate new characterizations of the phenomenon. Shifts are reflected in the act of recruitment (from coercion to deception), in the trafficking process (from forced to voluntary and from being approached to approaching recruiters themselves), in the targeted victims (from girls and young women to boys and men too), in transportation (from abduction to facilitation across borders), in the type of recruiters (from professional agents to villagers, distant relatives, and friends), and, finally, in exploitation (from mainly sex work to various worst forms of labor). Such shifts will contribute to redefining the concept of trafficking to reach better characterizations and to confirm that the definition of trafficking can continue to develop into a more inclusive stage.

Supang Chantanivich is founding director of the Asian Research Center for Migration and director of the Institute of Asian Studies, Chulalongkorn University.

from :Kyoto Review

“Community Forest” and Thai Rural Society

2007-06-16T01:29:00.001-07:00

Fujita Wataru
Anan Ganjanapan
Local Control of Land and Forest: Cultural Dimensions of Resource Management in Northern Thailand
Chiang Mai / Regional Center for Social Science and Sustainable Development, Faculty of Social Sciences, Chiang Mai University / 2000

Shigetomi Shin’ichi
Tai noson no kaihatsu to jumin soshiki
(Village organization for rural development in Thailand)
Tokyo / The Institute of Developing Economies / 1996
English edition: Cooperation and Community in Rural Thailand: An Organizational Analysis of Participatory Rural Development
Tokyo / The Institute of Developing Economies / 1998

During the last several years, the “community forest” movement has become increasingly active in Thailand. Indeed, Thai society is facing a turning point. With no firm “communal land” tradition (such as Japan’s iriaichi), Thailand is searching for a more sustainable mode of forest use than the cultivation of forest frontiers shared by most rural societies. Both within the Royal Forestry Department (RDF) and among NGOs, there is disagreement over the ability of local communities to manage their own forest resources in a sustainable way. Legislation on a Community Forest Bill was initiated in the early 1990s, but has still not been enacted. The two works under review here explore the implications of this question from quite different viewpoints and point to different modes of community forestry in Thailand.

“Loosely Structured Community” and the Market Economy

Since John F. Embree’s essay (1950) recognized Thai society as being more “loosely structured” than Japan’s, the “loosely structured society” model has been most frequently cited in understanding lowland Thai peasant communities. Embree’s suggestion was based on certain observations: that although the father was the putative head of the family, children had no strong sense of duty and obligation to their parents; that cabarets were not well managed, with each female employee appearing or not on any given night as she pleased. Though various objections have been made to parts of his argument, I think the experience of field researchers in Thai villages bears out many of Embree’s observations. Monographs describing communities in various regions in Thailand have supported Embree’s idea. Many arguments on Thai peasant society followed Embree, for example, a volume edited by Dieter-Evans (1969) and a work by Mizuno (1981) that represented Thai society as an accumulation of bilateral relationships between individuals. This notion has been integrated into the idea of network society, which is descriptive of many societies in Southeast Asia. To design a community forest management system, the question is whether and to what extent this social feature can be changed to a more collective one.

Shigetomi Shin’ichi’s Tai noson no kaihatsu to jumin soshiki (Village organization for rural development in Thailand) directly responds to this question. He has carried out intensive field research in a village in Northeast Thailand, and field surveys in many villages in other regions. His major interest is not in forest management itself but in rural development. He analyzes factors affecting the formation of collective organizations that transcend bilateral relationships based on actual cases in rural areas. He argues that the transition from traditional cooperation based on bilateral relationships to collective cooperation began as an adaptation to the market economy. With the penetration of the cash economy, traditional bilateral relationships stopped functioning properly, as for example, where unpaid labor exchange was replaced by wage labor, or where it became impossible to cover the cost of funeral ceremonies with mourners’ contributions. In response, peasants formed collective organizations such as labor exchange groups, funeral ceremony unions, saving unions, and so on.

The formation of cooperative management organizations in which private resources are contributed by voluntary members is thought to be the root of collective organization. Shigetomi sees the next step as the formation of local organizations to manage resources under the auspices of rural development programs sponsored by the government or NGOs. Since the 1980s, development agencies have increasingly “discovered” peasants’ powers of self-organization and have begun development projects to engage the active participation of local people. These development projects provide resources at the initial phase, but thereafter or simultaneously local people invest their own resources. Many organizations for collective management by local communities have since been formed and the model has become the norm for the management of communal resources.

Shigetomi points out that, especially in North and Northeast Thailand, such organizations of local people have succeeded when they are based on administrative units that more or less coincide with the pre-existing villages, but not on a wider basis such as the tambon (sub-district). He explains the succcess of the new cooperative organizations in North and Northeast Thailand as being based on the traditional unity of natural villages through communal rituals of guardian spirits, whose realm defines the community.

He applies this framework in his argument on cooperative management of “local communal resources,” that is, resources occupied or created by communities, such as land, forest, and swamps. Local communal resources are natural resources and require a management system that includes all the residents within the surrounding area. Shigetomi’s cases concern the economic management of local communal resources, not the religious management of guardians’ forests. Most of his cases are communal forests in North and Northeast Thailand and communal swamps in the Northeast, where organizations for resource management have for the most part existed since the 1980s. These are areas where natural resources, which had previously been openly accessed, have now, because of resource scarcity, been enclosed and are communally accessed.

Shigetomi’s argument, based on abundant field study, is that the transition from bilateral social relationships to collective organization for the purpose of managing communal resources has occurred as an adjustment to the market economy and to resource scarcity. Therefore, the penetration of capitalism does not necessarily dissolve social unity, but may also strengthen and encourage it. Newly-formed cooperatives in North and Northeast Thailand rely on pre-existing local unity organized around Buddhist temples or guardian rituals, which overlap with the area of natural villages. However, the resultant collective organizations do not possess the same mental basis of unity that had been the core of traditional bilateral cooperation; rather, they are based on incentives of purely economic interest. Shigetomi’s analysis of rural social organization thus focuses on economic factors and social structure. Anan Ganjanapan’s study, on the other hand, though dealing with similar issues, emphasizes the friction between traditional cultures and modern institutions.

Toward the Legalization of Traditional Culture

Anan Ganjanapan is a leading scholar-activist of the community forest movement in Thailand, especially in the North, where the movement first began and where the network of academics, NGOs, and local people is most active. Local Control of Land and Forest is a collection of his recent essays. This book, which documents several case studies, demonstrates his basic idea that the “community forest” is one measure of the local community’s struggle for its own rights. His argument shares a starting point with the so-called “community culture school,” is within the mainstream of community forest activism, and provides its theoretically clearest framework in Thailand. Besides this book, he has written or edited several others in Thai (Anan 2001; Anan ed. 2000a; 2000b) which argue the importance of local initiatives to control local natural resources.

In contrast to Shigetomi, Anan argues that local communities have traditionally been capable of managing natural resources, and he takes the self-sufficient community as his proto-type. He suggests that this self-sufficient community has been destroyed by such features of modernization as the cash economy and legal institutions. Within this framework, he uses cases from North Thailand to write about conflict for control over forest, land, and labor resources.

A case study of a village in Chiang Mai province is used to illustrate the impact of commercial agriculture on land and labor practices. Irrigated commercial crop cultivation in the dry season was introduced in the 1970s to complement paddy cultivation in the rainy season for subsistence. The higher cost of commercial crop cultivation—for seeds and fertilizer—changed the relationship between landlords and tenants. As tenants had difficulty accessing credit, landlords supplied the inputs and thereby tried to enhance their control over the tenants’ production. In some cases, a fixed amount of the tenant’s crop replaced previous proportional profit sharing. The relationship between landlords and tenants therefore changed from a kind of patron-client relationship to something closer to wage labor. Further, the limitation of farm tenancy to within kin groups has been abandoned.

Anan also discusses modern legal institutions, pointing out that modern ownership and government-issued land titles have had significant influence on local customs and religion. The modern land tenure system only acknowledges individual ownership, whereas in the lowland peasant society of North Thailand known as khon muang, land was customarily possessed by matrilineal kin groups. Within the modern system of land tenure, the kin group must receive land title in the name of one individual member. This is meant as an expedient, but conflict arises within the kin group when the “landowner” tries to mortgage the land or use farmland for other businesses. Further, it is reported that many villagers do not even apply for legal land title.

In North Thailand, conflict over natural resources has also created inter-ethnic problems. While lowland Thai and highland Karen had long resided in self-sufficient ways, relatively new migrant ethnic groups such as Hmong or Risu in the highland began exploitative opium cultivation in the Karen’s fallow fields or the Thai’s watershed forests. In other cases, Karen people lost their lands through economic exploitation by lowland Thais and migrated into the forest area, causing deforestation.

Anan’s basic thesis is that self-sufficient peasant society based on the unity of kinship or community has been destroyed by modern institutions which promote individuals and the cash economy. He suggests that customary regulation of land, forest, and community be thought of not only in terms of economic resources but holistically, as part of a community’s life. Moreover, he says, farmers who desire to live such a life must insert the communal or collective idea into modern institutions and legally secure their customs and traditions.

Anan discusses the community forest within this framework, referring to customary protection of watershed forests and sacred forests or to the utilization of communal woodland in North Thailand. It is emphasized that the moral basis of local management of community forests as a customary right is the idea that pa (forest), standing against muang (city) and inhabited by spirits, frees local people from state power. Even though this moral basis has declined, and, in some cases, traditional community forests have been encroached upon by villagers individually or sold to mining companies, Anan suggests that villagers’ feeling of community belonging and local culture remain, contributing to the conservation of old community forests and the establishment of new ones. More importantly, he points out that the recent revitalization of community forests is motivated by the need to guard resources against outsider invasion, such as commercial logging, enclosure of the forestland by business, and degradation of the watershed forests by hill people’s cultivation. However, as local customs do not have a legal basis, village efforts to conserve forest resources have been uncertain in the face of commercial logging or the government’s designation of reserved forests. Villagers have been struggling with this situation by utilizing the official authority of village committees or tambon councils, codifying customary rules, and organizing patrol groups. Villagers have been making efforts to formalize local customs and obtain a legal basis for them. The concept of “collective rights” has therefore been constructed by this demand for legal acknowledgement, in which peasants in North Thailand have reinforced local idioms to legitimize their own rights. Anan suggests that sustainable use of natural resources can not be expected without full recognition of local people’s collective rights to resource management as a counterbalance to the state’s superior power.

Culture and Organization

The common point in the arguments of Shigetomi and Anan is that the traditional social order has declined or changed through modernization and the introduction of the cash economy and that recently, cooperative activities have became popular again. On the basis of this recent development, they consider the prospects of communal resource management by rural people in accordance with the modern state system. However, Shigetomi thinks of the regeneration of cooperation as an adaptation to the cash economy, separate from traditional mentalities, while Anan emphasizes moral value or a sense of belonging to the community in the traditional context and the need to secure its legal standing.

The essence of the difference is the premise of traditional rural society: Shigetomi assumes bilateral cooperation, whilst Anan suggests the existence of community organization that has long managed communal resources. This difference partly emerges from their respective research sites. Although Shigetomi refers to many regions, his intensive field research has been in a village in Northeast Thailand, where protection of village guardian forests, though not of other natural resources, is common. Anan’s argument depends largely on cases from North Thailand, where traditional communal resource management of irrigation systems and watershed forests can be found. But Anan also reports that these traditions in North Thailand have declined, which means the social organization of the communities has not been strong enough to maintain management of their resources by themselves.

We must reconsider what kind of organization is needed to manage communal resources in sustainable ways and what culture of norms should regulate the behavior of each member. As Shigetomi points out, an organization consisting of all residents of a certain area that manages communal resources such as forests or swamps is different from a voluntary organization such as a saving group. The resource management organization will inevitably contain members who neither agree nor conform with the expectation of sustainable use. The management system must therefore be able to enforce regulations.

Based on this framework, it seems that moral value, unity of kin groups, and the sense of belonging to a community, which Anan emphasizes but acknowledges have declined, are an insufficient cultural basis for a reliable management system. The decline shows up in the inability to enforce rules and punish breaches. On the other hand, the guardian’s forests in North and Northeast Thailand have been protected and preserved through enforcement of the rules and punishment for breaches better than other communal forests in North Thailand. This means that people do have a sense of rules. But though the protection of the guardian’s forest can be a symbol of unity for a community, such religious practices are totally different from the regulation of forests as communal resources.

Can we find any evidence of a willingness to follow community rules against one’s own self-interest in the recent changes Shigetomi examines in communal resource usage and conservation? He devotes one chapter to an intensive case study of a village in Northeast Thailand where the development of a village cooperative organization began with the formation of a rice bank in the 1980s. The rice bank gathered 50kg of unhulled rice from each voluntary member and loaned it to members at 20 percent interest per year. Dealing with members in arrears was done through dialogue in meetings attended by all, including delinquent, members. Around the same time, the cooperative shop was founded. The shop was funded and managed by voluntary members and the earned interest was distributed to them. In case of breaches of the rules, board members used moral suasion to bring violators into line. Management like this largely depended on the leadership of village headman and the social authority of elder leaders of kin groups in the village. Shigetomi highly values this kind of conflict resolution and decision-making by dialogue as being crucial to generating members’ consciousness of participation. But it also means the organization was not strong enough to deal with breaches automatically by following the rules. Dependence on village headman and other elders for smooth management shows that the organization was not autonomic but a fabric of bilateral networks with charismatic persons as the hubs.

The village’s cooperative organization evolved from the management of private resources of voluntary members (the original rice bank and store) to the management of communal resources by all villagers with the assistance of NGOs. The rice bank now includes the whole village, and an aquaculture project has begun in the communal swampland. There was an unsuccessful pig-raising project in which loans became uncollectable. In the 1990s, an organization containing several natural villages was formed. The turning point was the affair of the bad fertilizer, in which the fertilizer-purchasing group, consisting of members from several villages, claimed damages for their losses and were successful in receiving compensation. Currently a farmers’ group runs the rice mill and eight nearby villages engage in community forest management. Here again, Shigetomi considers the key factor to be trust in the village headman, who was leader of the collective fertilizer claim.Therefore, the character of the organization—relying on the charisma of a certain individual—has not changed. Shigetomi considers this to be the process of transition from bilateral cooperation to collective cooperative organization to expansion over the natural village boundary; he suggests that the collective organization requires members to respect collective agreements and to contribute to the organization. However, when routine procedures require collective agreement of all members each time, the organization cannot be thought of as an autonomic entity. To go back to the question asked above, the answer is clear: there is no evidence that rules are followed just because they are the rules of the community. The predominant concept underlying village social behavior is still the bilateral relationship.

How to Implement Community Organization

As Shigetomi’s case study shows, charismatic individuals play a crucial role in even long-evolving collective organizations, making them inherently unstable. I have also encountered cases in which collective cooperation did not succeed because they lacked a well-trusted leader. Villagers often attribute their failure of cooperation or lack of community unity to the ability of their leaders. They recognize their own selfish behavior, but think their leader is responsible. Such an unstable social system cannot be fully responsible for the sustainable management of community forests and local utilization of natural resources. But as Anan suggests, it is also true that the 1990s era of democracy has spurred local people to cooperate further in guarding their resources from outsiders. Thus, it is important that local people’s collective rights be recognized by the modern legal system. Perhaps the answer lies somewhere between fully national and fully local jurisdiction over natural resources.

So far, all property rights have been either individual or national, a situation that has enabled outsiders to exploit resources without respect for local people’s livelihood. Though forest institutions in Thailand have paid a certain amount of attention to local use of forest resources by giving use permits (though within limits and following bureaucratic procedures), the forests have been principally state-owned and no systems have been elaborated to actively preserve local people’s use or rights. Forest officers have therefore been essentially adversarial in the eyes of local people. But today, partnership between forest officers, NGOs, and scholar-activists must be pursued in order to strengthen local organizations which still depend on bilateral relationships. The role of NGOs in assisting local people’s resource management is demonstrated in the case studies of both Anan and Shigetomi, but in fact, forest officers also participated in the establishment of community forests in the 1990s. As the policy of the forest department shifted to emphasize collaboration with local people and to encourage the establishment of community forests, NGOs played a useful role in mediating between officers and villagers. Both forest officers and NGO workers not only give advice on organization and management, but also arbitrate conflict within and between communities. I visited a community forest in a Northeast Thai village that was well managed by means of collective maintenance works and punishment of violations; the forest officer, who had been a consultant, thought that proper forest management might cease should forest officers’ involvement be withdrawn.

The success of forest officers as arbitrators for the villagers rests on their social authority as well as their knowledge. It is also true that this is a kind of bilateral relationship that depends on the personal ability of each officer. On the other hand, insofar as the new policy strengthens the officers’ authority to function as arbitrators, it represents institutionalization. The integration of local people and representatives of state agencies can stabilize community forest management to a certain extent, even though the actual organization might continue to operate through bilateral relationships. The most important thing is not “rights,” but the “system” which maximizes the interests of the local people in the long term. Nowadays, with the move toward decentralization, the role of local administrations, such as the tambon (sub-district) level, is much talked about. But, in fact, a flexible network of various actors—government officers, scholars, NGOs, and local people—is more suitable for resource management according to the reality of each local community.

Fujita Wataru is Junior Research Fellow at the Center for Southeast Asian Studies, Kyoto University.

References

Anan Ganjanapan. 2001. Miti Chumchon: Withi Khit Thong Thin Wa Duai Sithi Amnat lae Kan Chatkan Saphayakon (The community dimension: Modes of thinking about local rights, authority, and resource management). Bangkok: Samnakngan Kong Thun Sanapsanun Kan Wichai.

Anan Ganjanapan ed. 2000a. Phonlawat Khong Chumchon nai Kan Chatkan Saphayakon: Krabuanthat lae Nayobai (Community dynamics in resource management: Paradigm and policy). Bangkok: Samnakngan Kong Thun Sanapsanun Kan Wichai.

Anan Ganjanapan ed. 2000b. Phonlawat Khong Chumchon nai Kan Chatkan Saphayakon: Sathanakan nai Prathet Thai (Community dynamics in resource management: The situation in Thailand). Bangkok: Samnakngan Kong Thun Sanapsanun Kan Wichai.

Embree, John F. 1950. Thailand: A Loosely Structured Social System. American Anthropologist 52:181-193.

Evers, Hans-Dieter, ed. 1969. Loosely Structured Social System: Thailand in Comparative Perspective. New Haven: Yale University Southeast Asia Studies.

Mizuno Koichi. 1981. Tai Noson no Shakai Sosiki (Social organization of Thai villages). Tokyo: Sobunsha.

from Kyoto Review

On the Politics of Nature Conservation in Thailand

2007-06-16T01:24:00.000-07:00

Pinkaew Laungaramsri

Conflict in late twentieth century Thailand among state agencies, local people, urban conservationists, and community-rights NGOs over the issue of protected areas and people is strikingly complex and multi-faceted. The conflict has culminated in debate on the draft Community Forest Bill proposed by 50,000 local villagers and passed by the parliament in 2000. However, in March 2002, when the Bill was sent to the senate, several significant articles were amended, including Article 18, which would allow community forest to be incorporated within “protected forest areas,” such as national parks, wildlife sanctuaries, and classified watershed areas. The reason given for the amendment was that “pristine nature” within “protected areas” should be left intact without “disturbance” by local communities. As one senator put it, “Local people are like weevils, they eat up all the wood. If we pass this bill [unamended], it is like we open all the protected forests to all the communities.”

“Pristine nature” is a paradoxical notion, an invented idea that calls for human non-interference in a certain kind of “nature,” which yet requires the protection and management of human beings through man-made laws and regulations to guarantee its viability. Human power selects and decides the places where wilderness must be protected or allowed to recover from human disturbance. Of course, not all humans have the power of selection. Only state and urban elites acquire the privilege of incorporating “nature” into their realm of existence and enjoying its maximum benefits.

In this essay I discuss the process of social production of “nature” within the changing political economy of Thailand. By historicizing nature, I argue that a so-called untouchable, self-regulating, human-free “nature” has primarily been a product of constant state intervention in forest and natural landscapes since the turn of the twentieth century. This making of “first nature” has been an intimate part of the process of state-building, in which nature as economic capital is no less important than nature as “symbolic capital” (Bourdieu 1977)—a signifier of the modern and civilized nation-state.

Furthermore, the adoption of North American wilderness thinking by the modernizing Thai state within the country’s particular stage of capital accumulation has resulted in an ambivalence between “nature conservation” and “economic development.” The Thai deployment of “wilderness” actually reverses the original. Unlike the romantically-conceived model of the North American national park, Thai wilderness thinking stands inside the heart of modernity and omits the key characteristic of the wilderness. Used as a tool to modernize the country and its people, Thai “nature conservation” abandons the wild freedom of areas once beyond the reach of the state and assigns new functions to the landscape now designated as “protected.” Most crucially, this process has been integral to the capitalization of natural resources through the “development” paradigm.

Modernizing Nature

The logging ban of January 1989 is often viewed, by state agencies and environmental groups alike, as a turning point in forestry in Thailand—a watershed for the new era of conservation. Following the logging ban, in 1992, the Thai government revised its 1985 Thai National Forestry Policy (TNFP) which had allocated 25 percent of the country’s total forest area for production and 15 percent for conservation. The new TNFP aimed to increase conservation areas by converting forest reserves into national parks and wildlife sanctuaries. The new forestry policy designated 25 percent of the total land area of Thailand as protected areas, reducing forest for production to 15 percent.

The expansion of protected areas throughout the country is meant to return “nature” to an original state of untouched wilderness under the absolute protection of the Royal Forestry Department (RFD); such conservation is deemed the only way to save “nature” from “threats.” In the north of Thailand, for example, 1,760,000 ha of national reserve forests are to be annexed to forty national parks, and the following “threats” and “obstacles” to the natural ecosystem are to be removed—the local communities living and farming inside national parks, wildlife sanctuaries, and class 1A watersheds. Over the past decade, then the forest has been successfully portrayed as fragile, vulnerable, and susceptible to extinction, while swidden fields and village settlements are depicted as forest bulldozers. This alarmist and apocalyptic rhetoric has gained widespread public and media support. Forest conservation is no longer the RFD’s agenda alone, but the responsibility of every Thai citizen; people who violate the law of conservation are deemed destroyers of the nation. Such a conservation mentality has resulted in tension between local people and forest officials in many protected areas, particularly in North Thailand. Popular resentment and resistance as an expression of local people’s distinctive ideas of conservation and forest use have emerged throughout the northern region.

From Pa (Forest) to Sappayakon Pamai (Forest Resource)

Changing perceptions of the forest and the development of nature conservation ideas in Thailand are products of socio-economic transformation closely linked to the modernization of the country. They reflect not only shifting state attitudes and practices, but the complex forces circumscribing the technologies of state resource control. Shaped and made possible by colonial and neo-colonial administration, these forces are both complementary and contradictory, as well as mediated by the political economy of modernity, resource competition, and scientific knowledge.

In premodern Thai society, pa (forest, also pa dong, thuan, phong phrai, wana) stood external to and distant from the civilized sphere of muang (city or domain). Pa was perceived as an unpopulated, raw, disorderly realm of trees and animals peripheral to the humane, cultivated, and organized muang. It was a wild and barren area that needed to be remade into human habitation. The state thus knew as little about the forest as it knew about its inhabitants. The Mangraisastra, or Mangrai Law written by King Mangrai of the Lanna Kingdom (1259-1317), rewarded people whose sweat and tears turned forested area and barren fields into cultivated fields, orchards, and towns by exempting from levee (tax) the product of that land for three years. The idea that people who hak lang thang phong (clear the forest to make land) were good citizens remained prevalent until the mid-twentieth century.

Renowned Thai historian Srisakra Vallibhotama notes that the term pa reflects a deeper socio-cultural connotation than its usual English translation as “forest” (Srisakra 1989:269). Beyond the general sense of pa as an un-ordered forested area is the connotation of a mystic arena—the super-natural and spiritual territory which exists beyond human control. This does not mean that human beings were totally disconnected from pa. Thai literature shows that ordinary people viewed pa as mysterious and transcending the human order, but a special kind of human being residing in pa, such as a hermit, could attain ultimate magic powers through struggle against material and emotional temptations. As a refuge from the “worldly” world, pa also represented a peaceful sanctuary for Buddhist monks in pursuit of an ascetic path, as well as an escape and illicit repository beyond state control. Thus the premodern Thai pa signified a landscape which was “savage” and “untamed,” peripheral to the center of human power—a sacred, enchanted place made distant from human beings by feelings of fear, mysticism, and reverence.

By the end of the nineteenth century, this conception of pa had changed. The isolated mysterious place once perceived as external to the realm of muang had turned into a precious asset. The change began with the expansion of the British colonial logging industry from Mon territory into the adjacent forest of northern Thailand. Hardwood trees, especially teak, became unexpectedly valuable, leading to fierce competition among Burmese Mon teak traders. To gain logging concessions, these traders bribed the northern lords of Lanna who, despite their subservience to Bangkok, maintained independent rights of control over forest land (Saratsawatdi 1996:336-7; Shalardchai 1979). The competition and bribery also resulted in overlapping concessions. In 1873 alone, an estimated forty-two cases were filed in the Bangkok court to sort out disputes between British-Burmese Mon and Chiang Mai lords. In one significant case, the Chiang Mai lord Inthawichayanon lost and was fined 466,015 rupiah. This amount was beyond his ability to pay, so the Bangkok government helped him on the condition that Inthawichayanon repay the amount within seven years (Saratsawadi 1996). After this case, legislation implemented in 1874 and 1883 required the central government’s approval of any contracts between foreigners and northern lords and prohibited overlapping concessions (Royal Forestry Department 1958:2). To ensure enforcement, a representative from the Ministry of Interior was assigned to look after forest businesses in northern principalities.

By the turn of the twentieth century, the teak forest in northwestern Thailand had become economically significant and thus politically sensitive. Constant disputes and threats by British colonials to intrude into the northern territory prompted Bangkok to take more effective control of these forests. The Royal Forestry Department was established in 1896 after a survey of northern teak forests by Castensjold and Slade (a Dane and Briton, respectively). Prince Damrong Rachanuphap, the founder of the modern Ministry of Interior under which the RFD was first placed, hoped that the Royal Forestry Department would help “separate forestry from politics and contribute to the preservation of teak forest and the increase of government’s benefit from forests” (Ministry of Interior 1992:48-49).

The establishment of the RFD marked the end of the northern lords’ control over the forests, but unfortunately not the end of politics over forestry. During its first five decades, the RFD was tossed between several ministries, including Interior, Economics (Finance), and Agriculture. Such mobility reflected the political instability of the organization itself, but also the unsure capacity of the state to manage this new “resource,” whose economic value would always be subject to politics due to the enormous commercial benefits of timber-harvesting. Even after the RFD was permanently placed in the Ministry of Agriculture and Cooperatives in 1941, the organization, its policies, and its high ranking positions continued to be strongly influenced by the leading political party of the government.

The modernization of pa through the RFD brought a new conceptualization to the once peripheral area. As the first director of the RFD, H.A. Slade resolved that forests in Thailand would be the “country’s capital” and that annual timber growth would be exploited as the “country’s interest” (RFD 1958:5). Pa, the wild and mystical land, had become visible and valuable to muang, in reality Bangkok, which came to represent the entire country to which the benefits belonged. This process was made possible by the scientific forestry of British colonialism, through a model derived from German forestry (Chamaichom 1978:89-90). The term pa (forest) was replaced by pa mai (forest-wood), analogous to “nature” becoming “natural resources,” a utilitarian discourse which focused on those aspects of nature with commercial value. The capacity of forestry science to transform the real, disorderly, chaotic forest into a rationally ordered arrangement of trees enabled the state to develop new possibilities of control. The natural forest or pa was thus remade into the administrative forest.

The state capitalization of nature/forest was a part of a modernization project which required centralized power to control forest resources, maximize the benefit of the timber trade, and reduce the British monopoly in the northern teak business. But although pa was rendered visible and valuable, the state lacked the knowledge and knowledge users to transform visible value into exportable goods and revenue. Ironically, the initial stage required the assistance of British subjects, who supplied the first three directors-general (first called Chief Conservator of Forest). It was almost three decades before the RFD had its first Thai director-general, Phraya Daruphan Phithak, who completed forestry training in England. Even then, technical knowledge, such as forest inventory and plantation, still relied heavily on foreign expertise. With limited knowledge and technology, the role of the state in commercial forestry was initially revenue extraction from tax collection and stump commission, while the major timber concessionaire with the most power and control of teak and trade within the Chao Phraya River Basin was a British company. The first experimental teak logging operation by the RFD started in 1912 in Phrae province and expanded to Chiang Mai’s Mae Chaem and Tak in 1913 and 1922 respectively (Chamaichom 1978).

The “forest” thus entered modern Siam in a partial and commoditized form, in which the utilitarian Siamese state saw only the commercial trees, namely teak. Annual average exports of high quality teak nearly doubled in the decade before the RDF was founded—from 29,538 tons in 1888 to 49,690 tons in 1896—making teak second only to rice as the nation’s most valuable export item. This equivalence of pa (forest) with pa maisak (teak forest) was fundamental to the development of Siamese forestry along the lines of “mono-species” management.

Teak also furthered centralization. While logging activities, forest control, and forestry schooling were concentrated in the north, home of the natural teak forests, infrastructure soon facilitated teak’s transportation to Bangkok. The first railway between Bangkok and Chiang Mai was completed in 1921 under British supervision with foreign loans. Several other logging railways were built by European concessionaires through the difficult terrain of the Ing, Yom, and Li river basins. (Graham 1912). King Chulalongkorn considered railroad development to be an important tool in centralizing the country, stating that “by bringing the different parts of the country within close communication the railway renders possible that close and beneficial supervision which is necessary to effective administration” (Graham 1912:145).

The teak era under European colonialism ended after World War II when the concession period was completed and the Thai government granted no further extensions. But logging by Thai companies of non-teak trees, classified as mai krayaloei (miscellaneous wood excluding teak), continued to follow the earlier model. The massive expansion of logging roads opened routes for landless farmers to seek new prospects in abandoned, exhausted concession forests which were never reforested as required by the licenses. With export-oriented agriculture being promoted by the government and the World Bank from the late 1960s, these former concession areas, as well as other fertile forests in the North and Northeast, were cleared for cash crop expansion (Shalardchai 1979). Commercial logging continued to be Thailand’s predominant form of forest exploitation until it was banned nationwide in 1989. The ban followed massive local protests against clear-felling of trees in the south that caused mudslides, flooding, and severe damage to hundreds of families. However, the logging ban did not end timber extraction from natural forests. The productive function of the forest persists in large-scale commercial tree plantations, as the state merely shifted its mono-species focus from “in situ” tree extraction to “ex situ” tree harvesting. Teak remains dominant along with fast-growing species such as Eucalyptus. The wood industry’s sawmills and timber factories have continued to operate as well, supplied by illegal logging and logs from neighboring Burma and Cambodia (Pinkaew and Petchmala 1992).

Civilizing Nature

The influence of colonial forestry practice has continued despite the withdrawal of western timber companies in the mid-twentieth century. In Thailand, as in other Third World countries, colonial power remained in the form of advisory functions. From the end of the 1940s to the end of the 1960s many international institutions emerged—the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), World Bank (WB), International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources (IUCN), United Nations (UN), and United States Agency for International Development (USAID)—whose missions were to guide and transfer the development model from industrialized to underdeveloped countries.

In 1948, the first group of forest experts from the FAO, led by Dutch forester G.N. Danhof, came to Thailand to advise and assist with natural resource management. The FAO team identified the major problems of forestry in Thailand as lack of knowledge, technology, manpower, and financial support for forest management. The report also asserted that the forest in Thailand was managed in an unprofessional and inefficient way and that forest encroachment and poaching were caused by shifting cultivators (Royal Forestry Department 1971:86). The FAO’s recommendation was to preserve 40 percent of the total land area as forest cover and to use aerial maps for forest management. One way to preserve such large areas was to establish a national park system.

The national park, as a post-war product of modern development ideology, coincided with the aims of the modernizing Thai state under Field Marshall Sarit Thanarat (1959-1963). Like the monarchy and the Thai language, the national park became an ideal national symbol. But further, a national park system was a landmark of modern civilization, a key element of the modern Thai nation-state, rendering forest destruction equivalent to destroying the nation. In Sarit’s words: “Forests are significant natural resources for the lives of Thai people and the existence of Thailand. Those who destroy the forests are the enemy who destroy the nation’s security” (Ministry of Agriculture and Cooperatives 1980, cited in Atthachak Sattayarak 1999). In 1958, the state initiated legislation on national parks, marking the first step towards modernizing the peripheral landscape of Thailand.

The ideal model, and assistance toward achieving it, came particularly from the United States. As part of the postwar attempt to halt the so-called influence of communist Indochina, American development assistance to Thailand included economic aid and advisory assistance on national park establishment. In 1955, through the US-Thai Cooperation Program, the American government sponsored visits by two groups of Thai bureaucrats, forestry academics, engineers, and policy makers to the US. The first group went to the Tennessee Valley Authority, an inter-state water resources development agency, to learn about American hydroelectric dam technology for developing water resources. The second group visited Yellowstone National Park, America’s first national park. Since then, the US model of dams and national parks has become an ambitious ideal of modern development for the Thai state.

In 1959, at the Thai government’s request, the Switzerland-based IUCN sent George Ruhle of the US National Park Service to assist the RFD in selecting suitable protected areas and writing laws to constitute and administer them. However, the transformation of Thai behavior towards “nature,” this step toward “civilization” and modern nationhood, was not easy. Ruhle noticed that untouched wilderness where human use was strictly prohibited seemed out of place in the Thai context: “terms such as ‘invasion of wilderness’ and ‘impairment of natural values’ are without meaning to the Thai at present. The idea that any area can best serve education, science, and posterity if left undisturbed seems naive indeed” (Ruhle 1964:24).

Nevertheless, legal mechanisms for enforcing conservation were enacted through the Wildlife Conservation Act of 1960 and the National Park Act of 1962. Thailand’s first national park, Khao Yai, in northern Thailand, was officially created on September 18, 1962, followed by the first wildlife sanctuary, Salak Phra, on December 31, 1965. Subsequently, the US model of protected areas has come to represent forest conservation in Thailand, supported financially and technically by international agencies including IUCN, FAO, United Nations for Development Program (UNDP), USAID, and World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF).

The American concept of “protected areas” initially emerged as an environmental ethic in which humans allowed the free self-determination of nature. For Thailand, the concept has been a means to board the ship of western civilization. Indeed, Dr. Boonsong Lekhakul, the father of the modern conservation movement in Thailand, cherished this idea throughout his life:

The establishment of the Wildlife Conservation Law and national parks in Thailand has pointed to the world that Thai people have moved beyond the barbarism of people who are aware only of food for stomach, to the era of civilization. It is time now to know of the food for eyes, for ears, and for the brain (Boonsong 1992:12).

Motivated by their desire to enhance progress and civilization, state officials allied with forestry technocrats and conservation groups have shaped forest conservation with these goals in mind. Protected areas are valued not so much as natural ecosystems but as part of a new technology enabling the modernization of the country. Natural ecosystems are classified into “national parks” (utthayan haeng chat) and “wildlife sanctuaries” (khet raksa phan sat pa) to be protected for the aesthetic, educational, and recreational needs of the people.

But which people are “natural resources” managed for? A member of the National Park Committee answers this question clearly:

We need to focus on the Thai who comprise the core group of people that is, the educated. I believe that almost 100% (of the educated) see the importance of national parks. On the contrary, villagers who are close to the national parks do not accept the idea of parks. That is because it seems the government has cut their access into the area where they used to utilize for themselves or for the capitalists who hired them…Urban people whose livelihood does not rely directly on the national parks tend to appreciate the beauty and aestheticism of national parks more than village people.

The underlying assumptions of this statement are twofold. First, the prerequisite for entering into the regime of the national park is formal education. Without this modern orientation, proper appreciation and understanding of the national park’s value are deemed impossible. Second, the modern stance of human beings toward nature is distance, presuming a neutral, disinterested, and non-invested position. The more intimate the relationship between human livelihood and nature, the more unlikely it is to achieve this distanced, neutral relationship. Such assumptions reveal a fundamental belief in scientific forestry, in which the “national park” is an object of knowledge acquired only through institutionalized education. This discourse of education has been used to disqualify and exclude undesired groups of people from national park management, to undermine the pre-existing connection between local livelihood and the forest, and to legitimize the dominance of the urban middle class over local people in their relationship with the forest.

It is interesting to note, however, that even urban middle-class appreciation of nature is not consistently and neutrally defined, though industrial interests are always elevated over those of local people. Vested in the uneven socio-economic structure, the value of national parks as consumptive landscapes has shifted over time. Throughout the history of constructing “forest conservation,” responses to the ecotourism market, industrial demand, and the desire to maintain the forest authority have variously shaped the development of protected areas in Thailand.

Selecting Pristine Nature: The Hierarchy of Forests

The RFD’s model of protected areas is based on the definition of the IUCN Commission on National Parks and Protected Areas:

Relatively large areas which contain representative samples of major natural regions, features or scenery where plant and animal species, geomorphologic sites, and habitats are of special scientific, educational, and recreational interest. They contain one or several entire ecosystems that are not materially altered by human exploitation and occupation. The highest competent authority of the country having jurisdiction over the area has taken steps to prevent or eliminate as soon as possible exploitation or occupation in the area (International Union for Conservation of Nature).

But not every type of natural forest has come under the protected area system, nor have all diverse ecological systems and distinctive fauna and flora been granted equal status within the national park system. In the process of selecting national parks in Thailand, outstanding natural elements, mega-fauna, and large forest areas are given importance; national parks are then distinguished by their natural characteristics and assigned value and ranking. Some ecosystems are given superior value, while others are completely set apart from protection. Thailand’s eighty-one national parks and thirty-seven wildlife sanctuaries comprise mostly large mountainous forests, beaches, and islands valued highly for tourism and the conservation of large mammals.

Aestheticism of nature under the national park system is frequently undermined by industrial interest. With the exception of To Daeng wetland forest in Narathiwat province in southern Thailand—established under royal patronage as a wildlife sanctuary in 1993—none of the ecologically significant wetland forests, including mangrove, lowland riverine, and seasonally flooded forests, have been classified as national parks. Even after the government banned logging concessions and increased the number of national parks from fifty-seven to seventy-nine, the felling of mangrove forests for the charcoal industry was exempt from the ban. And nearly 200,000 ha of mangroves have been destroyed to make way for shrimp farms over the past three decades.

A former chief of one of Thailand’s wildlife sanctuaries explains the low ranking of wetlands within the forestry department’s protected area system:

There are two main reasons why wetlands and lowland riverine forests have been neglected by the national park technocrats. First, these areas are not large; most of the mangrove areas distributed along the coast are viewed as trivial and unimportant. Second, and most important, they are viewed as lacking in the scenic value desired for tourism compared to the natural dryland forests.

Within the protected areas system, therefore, natural ecosystems are assessed not for their ecological significance but for their constructed aesthetic and economic value. Southern mangrove forests, unfortunately aesthetically unattractive, can only be productively valuable for charcoal and shrimp farming, while their ecological and functional value for local fishing communities is ignored. This differentiation creates further problems. Selecting national parks for their unique qualities has led to the creation of “green islands” surrounded by larger deforested areas (Ghimire 1994). Drawing a boundary around a desirable, protected area, the authorities render the forest beyond the boundary unqualified for protection by National Parks legislation. In the absence of local community rights to the surrounding forest, they are often illegally logged and cleared for other purposes.

The “green island” effect is evident at Khao Yai, Thailand’s first national park, which is now surrounded by resorts, golf courses, and industrial agriculture estates which adversely affect the ecological integrity and wildlife of the forest. The hierarchy created by deeming one forest area “core,” “pristine,” and protected, ironically undervalues the “peripheral” forest as less “natural” and “ecologically of no value,” therefore open to use by state and private interests. Over the past decade, the “green island model” has been amended by conservation authorities into a concept known as khet kan chon (buffer zone or egg white) in which the core pristine forest (egg yoke) is protected by zoning an area at its edge for use by communities resettled out of the core. One aim of buffer zones is to reduce opposition to eviction by local people by giving them a designated area nearby in which to live. This of course ignores the ecological mosaic that connects the “core” and “peripheral” areas.

Quite apart from the degradation of forests outside protected areas, it is questionable whether protected areas necessarily preserve the natural ecosystems within their boundaries. What is often obscured by the image of conservation is an important function of protected areas in Thailand—to support the country’s economic development.

Consuming Nature

As a principle underlying conservation in Thailand and elsewhere, the ideal of untouched wilderness is observed only conditionally. Thailand originally accepted the IUCN definition of protected areas as those “not materially altered by human exploitation and occupation, and where the highest competent authority of the country has taken steps to prevent or eliminate as soon as possible the exploitation in the area (IUCN 1969).” The premise of protected areas as wilderness that can be preserved untouched and undisturbed, however, has largely proven to be a myth.

Since 1960, the government has approved mining operations, the construction of dams and military security roads, and pharmaceutical research by private companies inside national parks, wildlife sanctuaries, and watershed areas throughout the country. For instance, the construction of six large dams inundated more than 200,000 ha of forests—all within areas classified as “protected” (Nart Tantiwiroon and P. Samootsakorn 1986). One of these, the Chiew Larn dam in Surat Thani province, flooded 16,080 ha of forest ecosystem within the Klong Saeng Wildlife Sanctuary and Khao Sok National Park, destroying the habitat of 338 species of wildlife, fourteen of which are endangered and thirty-two of which are threatened (Sueb 1987).

Development has been and continues to be a significant aspect of protected area configuration. The construction of dams is considered a type of “watershed conservation” necessary for the country’s resource management—not destructive, but indispensable. A senior forest academic explains: “The conservation concept comprises eight elements: utilization, storage, repair, rehabilitation, development, protection, prevention, and preservation. A dam and its reservoir is significant for storing water. But to ensure the consistency of water in the reservoir, we need to make sure that the watershed forest above the reservoir is well-preserved. That’s why the conservation of watershed forest is significant.”

This seems to contradict the very idea of the protected area as an untouched wilderness in which human intervention and destructive activity are proscribed. The Thai version of “wilderness” has departed from the ideal by allowing intervention as long as it is institutionalized, controlled, and regulated by the state and it “serves the benefit of the country.” Interestingly, the ecological destruction caused by development schemes is well-acknowledged by most state authorities. One former RFD director-general acknowledged that “development requires some losses,” but such losses are viewed as temporary and recoverable. The flooding of vast areas of forest, destroying numerous habitats of flora and fauna, will allow the development of a magnificent reservoir equipped with a splendid infrastructure and facilities including resorts, a golf course, and restaurants. With a little bit of investment, the reservoir will function as a tourist site to meet certain objectives of a national park, as the area sunk below its waters used to do in quite a different manner.

While development within protected areas is considered positive and manageable, local interaction with conservation forests is perceived otherwise. The latter, as one forest academic states, “is circumscribed by growth and greed”; “with permanent settlement, it will lead to an excessive uncontrollable destruction of forest” and therefore “should not be allowed to co-exist with forests.” Such a perception reflects the environmental discrimination and even racism entrenched within forestry thinking. Uncontrollable consumption is a behavior deemed inherent to and embedded in local livelihood, which is portrayed as endlessly harming the forest. This image, however, is never applied to “development” or to urban industrial lifestyles.

The de-politicization of development (Ferguson 1990) has not only rendered development authority an integral part of the conservation structure, but has also become a significant tool in blending productive and consumptive landscapes in a protected area. The 1989 logging ban in Thailand left the RFD and its ideal of productive forest momentarily idle. With the growth of eco-tourism in the 1990s, the “productive” function of the forest has been revived and national parks are again viewed as a promising source of income generation. The rapid expansion of national parks throughout Thailand, particularly concentrated in the north, has excessively augmented the parks authority, which has set aside the IUCN criterion of park establishment. Park management through concession has become omnipresent and profit making a priority that determines the way park resources and facilities are used. Commodifying nature through the promotion of “natural wonders” has been the key marketing strategy of the tourism industry.

Commodifying nature goes hand in hand with the growth of urban middle-class society and its increasingly intense lifestyle in big cities. As Guha points out, “the enjoyment of nature is an integral part of the consumer society” (1994:287). The growing urge for wilderness by urbanites is neither a reversion to the primitive, nor an abandonment of machine-like livelihoods. It is, rather, a way to “add new ‘amenity’ and ‘aesthetic’ goals and desires to their earlier preoccupation with necessities and conveniences” (Samuel Hays 1982:21 cited in Guha 1994:287). The urban middle-class need for “unspoiled” nature can be easily satisfied by excellent park facilities and accommodations in a snap-shot tour of the jungle, but it requires certain significant components through which a pure nature can be conceptualized. Wild animals, long ranges of mountainous forests, and waterfalls are common images used by media and state publications to symbolize the “nature” of protected areas.

“Unspoiled nature” is built upon the social construction of a regulated natural sphere construed as fragile and requiring protection. And a powerful protection apparatus requires the existence of a “threat.” In the history of forestry in Thailand, the politics of threat-making has long been an intimate part of the protected-area ideology. Certainly, the most perilous threat to the natural forest constructed and reproduced by the state has been the agricultural activities of the “hill tribes.” The discourses of “greed” and “growth” are always powerful in raising this alarm. The fact that the rate of tourism in protected areas increasingly exceeds that of village population growth goes unremarked. Hill tribes and their existence are presented as the dark side of nature. Once something has been defined as a threat, it is left no room for existence.

Pinkaew Laungaramsri is lecturer at the Regional Center for Social Science and Sustainable Development, Faculty of Social Sciences, Chiang Mai University. She is the author of Redefining Nature: Karen Ecological Knowledge and the Challenge to the Modern Conservation Paradigm.

References

Atthachak Sattayarak. 1999. Kan Suksa Phrom Daen Khwamru Thang Prawatsat Dan Sing Waet Lom (The study of environmental history). Samnak Ngan Khongthun Sanap Sanun Kan Wichai, (mimeographed).

Boonsong Lekhakul. 1992. Thiao Pa (Wandering in the forest). Bangkok: Sarakhadi.

Bourdieu, Pierre. 1977. Outline of a Theory of Practice. Translated by Richard Nice. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Chamaichom.1978. Kan Suksa Choeng Prawatsait Kiao Kap Kitchakan Pamai Thang Pak Nua Khong Thai Tangtae Pho So 2439-2475 (Study of the history of the timber industry in Northern Thailand 1896-1932). Master’s thesis, Chulalongkorn University.

Ferguson, James. 1990. The Anti-Politics Machine: “Development,” Depoliticization, and Bureaucratic Power in Lesotho. Cambridge: Polity Press.

Ghimire, Krishna B. 1994. Parks and people: Livelihood issues in national parks management in Thailand and Madacascar. In Development and Environment: Sustaining People and Nature, ed. Dharam Ghai. UNRISD: Blackwell Publishers.

Graham, W.A.1912. Siam: A Handbook of Practical, Commercial, and Political Information. London: Alexander Moring Limited.

Guha, Ramachandra. 1997. The authoritarian biologist and the arrogance of anti- humanism wildlife conservation in the Third World. The Ecologist 27(1), Jan/Feb.

IUCN. 1969. Standards and Nomenclatures for Protected Areas. Morges, Switzerland: IUCN.

Ministry of Interior. 1992. Mahatthai Nueng Roi Pi (One hundred years of Ministry of Interior). Bangkok: Ministry of Interior.

Nart Tantiwiroon and P. Samootsakorn. 1986. Thailand’s dam building programme: Past, present, and future. In The Social and Environmental Effects of Large Dams. Vol. 2, Case Studies, ed. Edward Goldsmith and Nicholas Hildyard. Camford: Wadebridge Ecological Centre.

Pinkaew Laungaramsri and Petchmala Malapetch. 1992. Illegal logging. In The Future of People and Forests in Thailand After the Logging Ban, ed. Pinkaew Laungaramsri and Noel. D.R. Bangkok: Pappim Printing.

Royal Forestry Department. 1958. Prawat Lae Phon Ngan Khong Krom Pa Mai: 2439-2500 (The history of work of the Royal Forestry Department: 1886-1957) Bangkok: Royal Forestry Department.

Royal Forestry Department. 1971. Rai Ngan Pracham Pi 2514 (Annual Report 1971) Bangkok: Royal Forestry Department.

Ruhle, George. 1964. Advisory Report on a National Park System for Thailand, 1959-1960. A Report Prepared for the International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources and the American Committee for International Wild Life Protection. New York.

Ongsakun Saratsawatdi.1996. Prawattisat Lanna (Lanna history). Chiang Mai: Phak Wicha Prawattisat Khana Manutsayasat (Department of Humanities).

Shalardchai Ramitanont. 1979. Pa Mai Kap Kanpatthan Chonnabot (Social forestry and rural development). Khrongkan Suksa Nayobai Satharanan (Public Policy Studies), Bangkok: Social Science Association of Thailand.

Srisakra Vallibhotama.1989. Nature and rituals in the 12-month cycle: A case study of the 6th months’ rituals. In Man and Nature: A Cross-cultural Perspective. Bangkok: Chulalongkorn Press.

Sueb Nakhasathien.1987. Rai Ngan Kan Chuai Lua Sat Pa Chak Khuan Chieo Lan (Report on the rescue of wildlife from the Chieo Lan). Bangkok.

from Kyoto Review

On Knowledge, the Nation, and Universals

2007-06-16T01:23:00.001-07:00

Kasian Tejapira

Let me begin with a poem. I composed it in hiding at the house of one of my aunts right after the 6 October 1976 Massacre at Thammasat University in Bangkok, in which the radical leftist student activists, me included, were accused of being “communist,” “un-Thai,” and “Vietnamese,” among other things, and of committing lese-majesty against the Crown Prince. Enraged and saddened by the brutal killings and suppression of my friends and comrades by the police and right-wing lynch mob, I recited this poem into a tape recorder, copied it down, and mailed it to a number of surviving friends before I left for the maquis to become a communist guerrilla fighter. Actually, it sounds better in Thai with its melodious rhythm and rhyme, but an English version will suffice.

May this wrath
turn into strength
as mighty as a raging storm.

We shall rise up
and fight to the death
sacrificing our lives.

Millions upon millions of people
wrathfully and thunderously clamor,
the sky and oceans reverberating,
dictatorship trembling.

The Devil rules over this evil age,
selling out the nation, robbing the people,
collaborating with foreign invaders
to set up military bases all over the land.

They gag our mouths, shut our eyes and ears,
taking away our rights and freedom.
Guns in hands, together they occupy and plunder our land.

When the people peacefully protest,
they shun us and pretend not to understand.
Our words are spoken in vain
and met with only contempt.

Their mouthpiece slanders us,
distorts the news and makes wild allegations.
Their henchmen, armed to the teeth,
bludgeon and slaughter us.

Our friends were battered unconscious,
then hanged from a tree.
Their benumbed bodies were piled up,
drenched with gasoline and burned alive.

A carnival of carnivores,
with their bestiality let loose
to feed upon people’s flesh and blood,
devils in human disguise.

The land was soaked in blood,
fiery, bloody reddened everywhere.
And the ground was strewn
with the bodies of our fallen heroes.

Let us wipe away the blood and tears.
A costly lesson has just been learned,
for which we paid with our blood, tears and lives,
one we’ll never ever forget.

A peaceful, legal struggle could not but bring us futile deaths.
We can’t reason with brutes.
When they can kill people just like that,
it’s no use talking to them.

Let’s lay down our pens,
save our breath,
and retrain our hands
to take up guns instead.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,
and a life for a life we’ll gladly exchange.
We’ll hold fast to the revolutionary line
till we exterminate all evils.

Let’s proclaim truth with bullets!
The people will support our fight.
With our great number, unity and determination,
the world will be turned upside down.

Our cherished people’s war
will surely triumph.
In the end, Thailand must belong to the Thais,
and all of us, free at last.

May the souls of our fallen heroes and friends
rest happy and assured
that the day of victory will soon come
and vengeance be visited upon the devils.

October 1976

What was so troubling about that massacre was not only the degree of violence used, but also the fact that a lot of ordinary Thai folks took part actively and bloodthirstily in lynching the students. Our fellow Thai countrymen must have really hated our guts to have killed us in that bestial manner.

That incident formed the background of the knowledge, method, and aspirations of the so-called “Octobrist” generation of Thai intellectuals and scholars, to which I belong. Hence the two basic facts about us are: the Thai (official) nation tried to kill us but we survived; and then we tried to make a revolution but it failed. In a way, our subsequent common intellectual trajectory has been a traumatic, persistent attempt, in our own separate ways, to find an appropriate and adequate intellectual answer and political response to those two problematics – why the Thai nation hated us so and why the revolution failed.

Given the collapse of the revolution in the early 1980s and with nothing better to do, scores of us went to the West for higher education, including me and a few ex-comrades who went to Cornell. Of course there we met Khroo Ben or Professor Benedict Anderson. It was Ben who started me thinking about the Nation as a cultural political project, a transitive reality, a state power-constituted construct that creates, delineates, and reproduces its own others. In the case of Thailand, the particular historical formation and configuration of the official national imagination has marked off as its prime ethno-ideological others the ethnic Chinese (derogatorily dubbed “Jek”) and the communists. The two happened largely to coincide in the early history of the communist movement in Thailand and, of course, I happened to be both a Jek and a communist – a doubly-othered of the Thai official nation.

It was also Ben who made me see for the first time my invisible “pigtail” and become aware of my Chinese ethnicity as a cultural political problem. Grasping Thainess and Chineseness as two sides of the same ethno-ideological coin, my academic-cum-cultural political ambition was to undermine the deadly cultural infrastructure of the Thai official nation which had made possible and justifiable such state terrorism against the people as the 6 October 1976 Massacre. A Thai nation that would be worth living in must be cultural-politically open to, as well as able to accommodate, the so-branded ethno-ideological un-Thais as rightful and equal members. The aim was to bequeath to future generations of Thais and un-Thais alike a land less murderous where they could live and argue with one another peacefully.

But how did one go about doing so academically? The provisional answer I improvised was to analytically and critically trace the genealogy (or the tradition of invention and reception) of a key signifier in modern Thai cultural politics, namely Thainess, all the while trying to destabilize, denaturalize or, if one prefers, deconstruct it in the most outrageously irreverent and iconoclastic, most sacrilegiously hilarious and profane manner possible, by making use of basic semiotic concepts and insights. With the sacred and deadly contents of Thainess emptied out and its lid thrown wide open, a semiotic space for contestation was thereby created in which alternative “un-Thai” meanings and referents could come freely into full play as “Thai,” including my favorite radical, popular candidates, in a dynamic and open-ended reimagination and reconstruction of a new Thai nation.

That’s how I have been trying to settle my account, intellectually, with the Thai/Chinese, or indigenous, or local, side of my cultural political formation. The other side is the single universalism of Western thought, which I dealt with through a retrospective engagement with my first political love, the one to which I lost my teenage ideological virginity, so to speak – Marxism-communism.

It began in the early 1990s during my doctoral dissertation research on the formation of modern Thai radical culture by post-war radical public intellectuals. Given my axiomatic belief as a good Maoist in the unproblematically universal character of Marxist-communist theoretical truth and concepts, I was surprised and amazed to find that these Thai discourse compradors, in their attempt to introduce Marxism-communism to the Thai public through the translation of key terms from Chinese and English into Thai – either inventing new Thai coinages or matching them with old Thai words – had actually transformed not only the outward appearance of these terms, their look and sound, but also their meanings and usages.

My two favorite examples are the various Thai translations of “bourgeoisie” and “proletariat,” two key Marxist-communist terms denoting the two main classes in a capitalist society. In the case of bourgeoisie, instead of following the rather neutral-sounding and low-key official Thai translation of kradumphi, an Indian-derived Thai word meaning “rich people,” the Thai communist intellectual Atsani Phonlajan (alias Naiphi) retranslated it as phaessaya, a Sanskrit-derived Thai word with the wonderful double meaning of “merchant class” and “prostitute or bitch.”

Proletariat, kammachip in Thai, went a different way. Initially, leftist intellectuals and students (many themselves low-ranking and low-paid government employees) fiercely, if confusedly, debated whether or not both Thai government employees and tricyclists (pedicab drivers) should be counted as members of the proletariat. Of course the proletariat was supposed to consist of property-less wage earners, and the former group, though middle-class by station, were indeed state-employed wage earners who didn’t own any means of production, while the latter, though dirt poor and toiling, nonetheless possessed as private property their own means of production – the battered tricycles.

Subsequently, kammachip came to mean something altogether different from “modern industrial workers” in actual political usage. The top ranks of the Communist Party of Thailand (1942 through the mid-1980s), purportedly the vanguard party of the Thai proletariat, held just a handful of Thai and Laotian industrial workers. Most were high school-educated, Sino-Thai, petty bourgeois, small and medium entrepreneurs, shopkeepers and their apprentices, along with a few university-educated intellectuals. It turned out that the Chinese apprenticeship ethics of self-discipline, diligence, endurance, self-abnegation, parsimony, and simple lifestyle were identified as universal “proletarian characteristics and virtues” and became the prescribed model and hallmark of CPT cadres and revolutionaries in the years of rural armed struggle.

My way of making sense of this process of transformation is to compare it with the start of a snooker game wherein a player hits a white ball against a triangular formation of other balls so that, upon impact, the balls scatter, going their own separate ways. It was as if, once imported (or smuggled) across linguistic boundaries, stripped of their original script and sound, made to incarnate Thai forms, thrown into a new semantic field, and shoved into various Thai verse genres, those poor alien Marxist words ran into a virtual mine-field of immensely complex rhyming, syllabic, accentual, rhythmic, and tonal rules and regulations that followed a totally disparate logic. Crashing into these cultural obstacles head-on, they disintegrated on impact into free-floating radical signifiers, multiple confusing signifieds, substituted referents, and incongruent practices, each going their own separate, mind-boggling way.

How did I come to terms with the phantasmagoria of single universalism? The Enlightenment belief in the universality of reason and transparency of the word-reality relationship has been proved overly optimistic by the actual cross-cultural, cross-language flows and motions of words and discourse. And yet this is no reason to give up the noble dream of universal reason. One need only understand that it is impossible to transplant intact a fixed signifier with definite signifieds, unchanging referents, and prescriptive practices from one culture and language into another because there are no such things in the first place. Having already disintegrated, any “universal” can come to other peoples only as a self-educating process in which they have to fight, experience, learn, improvise, invent, and reinvent that “universal” for themselves. Only through this actual, historical process can the free-floating signifier, the multiple signifieds, the substituted referents, and the mimic practices that together constitute any and every “universal” be reintegrated. Only in this way can their institutions be built and take root. A generous attempt in good faith to come up with a single definition of “universals” can never replace that process, for the only sustainable “universal” is the one that people learn to define and build for themselves, not the one decreed, then offered to or imposed on them by well-wishers.

So eventually we’ll end up with many different “universals.” Some may look like ours, others may not. Some we may envy, others we may disapprove of, so much so perhaps that we may not want even to call them “universal.” That’s fine, because our own universals (be they Buddhist, Islamic, Confucian, Asian, Thai, or Singaporean) are also far from perfection and contain many features which we hope to change and improve in years to come. That’s why the differences between our “universals” and others’ are no less important than our common ground. For differences invite us to compare, contrast, and learn from one another’s “universal” achievements and shortcomings. Let’s open up the vista of many “universals” and the opportunity for open-ended dialogue. In the process, we may change their definition of universals; they in turn may change ours. Thank God there’s no universal definition of universals. Let’s hope people can talk and argue about their universals in a sincere, free, and non-violent way.

Kasian Tejapira is assistant professor of political science at Thammasat University. This essay was adapted from his presentation at the Social Science Research Council Planning Workshop of the Field Research-Cum-Retooling Project for Junior Southeast Asian Researchers, held at the National University of Singapore, 30 November-1 December 2002.

from Kyoto Review

Ties of Brotherhood: Cultural Roots of Southern Thailand and Northern Malaysia

2007-06-16T01:20:00.000-07:00

Suthiwong Phongphaibun

It can be said without exaggeration that over the last four decades Prof. Suthiwong Phongphaibun has become the leading figure in the study of the culture of the southern Thai region. He has published a voluminous output of original books, articles, and edited texts of manuscripts that have played a major role in defining the field. Among his best-known works are Good Things from the South (1962), Principles of the Thai Language (1962) – a textbook used throughout the country for over two decades, Village Customs (1964), Buddhism in the Songkhla Lake Region (1980), A Dictionary of the Southern Thai Dialect (1987), and the recently co-edited volumes, Cleaning Off the Rust on the Kris: Examining the Way of Life of the People of the Lower South (2000) and The Southern Thai Chinese: Pathways and Power (2001).

Prof. Suthiwong was general editor of the monumental Encyclopaedia of Southern Thai Culture, first published in 1986 in 10 volumes, to which over 220 scholars contributed articles. The work, which was the model for the compilation of three other similar multi-volume encyclopaedias on the culture of the Central, Northern, and Northeast regions, was later republished in 1999 in 18 volumes that ran to over 9000 pages – the largest of the four encyclopaedias.

In 1980 Prof. Suthiwong founded the Institute of Southern Studies which he directed until his recent retirement. In 1991, the Institute was relocated to its current picturesque location on Koh Yor island in the Songkhla Lake, Songkhla Province, southern Thailand, in buildings designed by Prof. Suthiwong himself. The Institute is devoted to the study and promotion of the history, literature, religion, language, performing arts, and culture of southern Thailand. Under the Institute’s auspices Prof. Suthiwong has been a patron to hundreds of scholars in the region, ranging from the village level up to holders of PhD degrees.

For his whole life Prof. Suthiwong has been a tireless promoter of the value of research into southern Thai culture. Much of his work was produced during an era when the value of regional culture was not only unrecognized in Thai academic or government circles, but was also seen by conservatives as a potential security threat to the unity of the nation. He is currently advisor to the Institute of Southern Studies (http://www.tsu.ac.th/ists/index.htm) and Senior Adviser for research on southern Thailand for the Thailand Research Fund (TRF). (Patrick Jory)

The identity of a person / community tends to be a mixture of both physical and mental elements, including form, element, role, function and strength.

A community’s true identity, therefore, is constituted by various elements deriving from ethnicity or race; this is one root. Another is that of “personality” expressed through behaviour and ways of thinking according to the ideals of a cultural or ethnic group, which has certain “intentions” (or dhammaphayop) that drive it. A person / community’s identity, therefore, is continually changing and dynamic, rather than fixed.

Thai identity in the lower southern region and Malaysian identity in the upper part of the peninsula therefore must be viewed based on these two characteristics, with an awareness of the past, that which is currently being formed, and what we might predict for the future.

The View Based on Common Ancient Roots

The communities of lower southern Thailand and northern Malaysia share certain common structures and roots due to their location near the equator. Both regions enjoy a humid climate and monsoon winds blow throughout the year. These physical factors have created certain biological similarities, like people who are of the same bloodline, and similar to the animal and plant world. Biological diversity is a factor that lead to diversity in terms of local wisdom and local village culture due to similarities in natural resources and environment.

Let us look at the region’s ethnic history going back in time 3500 years before the Buddhist era through to the beginning of the Buddhist era. The lower part of southern Thailand and the rest of the Malay peninsula, as well as the Indonesian islands including Borneo and Sumatra was inhabited by Mongoloids who mixed with indigenous local inhabitants, leading to the appearance of the Polynesians. 500 years before the Buddhist era they mixed with Aryans, who had migrated into south Asia.[1]

Scholars often refer to the Polynesians who live in Southeast Asian and Madagascar in East Africa, including the Minangkabau and Bataks in Sumatra, the Dayaks in Kalimantan and the Javanese, as “Malay”[2]. This term has a sense of crossing over to the other side of a river, which means the migration of a group of Javanese across the seas and other islands.[3] The term “Malay” in this sense reflects a belief in a group that separated itself from Java. Thus these people and their culture are referred to as “Javanese-Malay.”

Out of these common geographical and historical roots there developed a new ethnic group with a shared culture, with an identity consisting of more than simply racial or genetic similarities. There are especially close relations between the Thais of the lower south for whom Patani was the centre, and the people of upper Malaysia for whom Kedah and the neighbouring states were the centre in terms of administration, trade, and culture. These factors closely related the peoples of this region in both form and mentality. This may be seen in terms of local wisdom and customs related to village life, especially eating culture, eg. the production and eating of budu, and jing jang fish; housing, especially the building of houses on stone stilts, and building phalai (Balai); dress, including the wearing of sarongs, batik; and health and medicine, eg. treating fever by ritual dance performances of materi and limon or toh khreum, the role played by midwives called toh bidan, the custom of making a ritual payment known as kha rat. These things indicate a pre-existing common culture that has been handed down until today. This culture has deep roots and is very widespread.

Local culture is comprised of deeply-rooted, supporting culture, and sub-cultures. For example “rice culture” is a deeply-rooted culture – the method of ploughing, sewing, planting and harvesting rice plant separately using a kae knife (which still exists in southern Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia). Beliefs and customs related to rice-growing communities are a supporting culture, eg. the belief in the rice spirit (khwan khao), khao khwan, and bai si khwan khao which are expressed in various rituals, eg. korn phom fai, kheun ple, tham khwan dek, tham khwan khao. Some of these rituals have been integrated with orthodox religions, eg. bai sri has been integrated with the sunat ritual among Thai Muslims, and the practice of having a bai sri and wian waen thian chai ritual in marriage ceremonies is a mixture of Hindu, Buddhist and Islamic beliefs.

These deeply rooted common cultural characteristics have gradually faded over time as a result of the demarcation of the border. What was once close now seems far apart. This sense of distance, and even sometimes doubt or suspicion, has led to an accumulation of conflict, which has meant what once fitted together now has no meaning. We might compare this to flowers that use to bloom on the same bunch; even though they are on a different stem or cluster, they still have the same petals, fragrance, colour. After they have become different nationalities speaking different languages the fragrance and colour has changed and the branches no longer touch each other. What was once the same breed, the same gender, is no longer. The “tanyongmas” in Narathiwas province may be related to the “phikul thong” of Phathalung, but is very different from the phikul thong of Ang Thong. The word lut (mud) in southern Thai dialect and selut in Malay shows this kinship; the only difference might be in the eyes of the linguist. But due to the fact that they now belong to different nationalities speaking different languages they might not understand each other even though they use the same word. This example I have referred to differs from the term “khwan khao” and “nasi semangat.” But without these links it is difficult to see the connection. For example in the marriage ceremonies of Thai Muslims today khao khwan or semangat is still used. However in southern Thailand this ritual today is no longer practised. One needs to go back to the early Bangkok era to see it, as in the evidence from local literature in the south eg. the Phra Rot Meri in kap verse[4] (Ruang Bannanai version, Nakhon Sri Thammarat). In the episode where Lady Sonsa is performing the tham khwan ritual and gives a new name to Meri, “Kangri,” there is reference to feeding khao khwan.

The Brahmans say open the bai sri the banana leaf top is lifted off

The victory candle is lit respect is paid to the guru

The Brahmans chant the Vedas and bathe the hair of Phra Yupan

The astrologers also read out their blessing

The lit candle is passed around wian waen the people sit around in throngs

To receive the candle going around the circle in honour of the lady

Circling to the right around the binja the Brahmans stick it in the bowl

The guests are all seated together for the day of the princess’s tham khwan

After nine rounds the candles are put out and the smoke waved towards the Lady

Princess Sonsa takes the khao khwan and feeds the rice to the Princess

Gives her a new name according to her lineage the name – “Lady Kangri”

Her former name was Meri given to her by her father and mother

It can be seen that the rituals in the city of yakshas integrates different elements of the tham khwan rituals deriving from Hindu, Thai, Javanese and Malay culture, because these are yaksha from southern Thailand, not India.

Therefore that which was once similar may now appear different, as one region still maintains certain practices that have ceased in another region. Like the custom of “counting relatives” (sao yat nap yot)[5] we must go back to the past to discover the “truth” about the present. Southern Thais call tracing the source of something in the past “lae hem” (appearance) in order to “sao yan nap yot,” or discover who one is related to.

The View Based on the Spreading of Roots in the Era of Navigation

The Thai-Malay peninsula lies across an ocean trade route. Since the early age of the technology of seafaring it was a port of call for Moors, Southeast Asians, and Chinese boats where they carryied out repairs to their boats and loaded goods. The work of the Greek geographer Ptolemy describes the golden peninsula, ie. the Thai-Malay peninsula, especially Java. He portrays Java as a very developed country in terms of political administration, agriculture, navigation, and astrology. He refers to the skill of the local people in the production of batik, metallurgy, as well as their use of currency and production of coins. Especially the Indians from Gujarat who migrated to the region inhabited by the Javanese, Malays and southern Thais from the 5th century of the Buddhist era to 620 BE (in the reign of Aji Caka). In Java or Indonesia there is evidence of the widespread use of Sanskrit and the Pallava and Devanegari scripts. Later this language and these scripts became mixed with the local language of the Javanese, leading to the birth of the “Kawi” language. With the expansion of trade this region became known as Suvannadvipa or Java dvipa, and the region later became a Hindu-Buddhist cultural zone.[6]

Khlonchai Hattha states that it is the Tamil literary work, Pattinappalai, written between the 7th-8th century BE, that first refers to Kedah as a competitor with an ancient city called Puhar of the Cholas. Since ancient times Pattani and Kedah were related in terms of kinship, trade and religion. He refers to an Indian document written between 13th-14th century BE which mentions that Kedah was well-known among traders. Later it became famous as a spice trading centre. Europeans referred to the goods purchased from this region as “straits products.”[7]

The ocean trading routes from the tip of the Indian sub-continent should lead straight to the Straits of Malacca which was the shortest route. However there was a danger because the region in the zone between the equator to 5 degrees north often suffered from a lack of wind (which was referred to as the “doldrums”). When the wind was too light the trading boats could not move. This was called “falling off the world” (tok lok). Prasert Withayarat explains that ship navigators therefore had to navigate their boats further to the north. Apart from avoiding this problem they would also stop for repairs to their boats, stock up with food and water, as well as trade.[8] The peninsula region (both for the Malays and southern Thailand), eg. Kedah and Takola, situated across on the trade routes became important trading ports and linked the eastern and western coasts. Kedah was linked with Ligor (Nakhon Sri Thammarat); Saiburi was linked with Pattani (Langasuka and Yarang)[9]. For many centuries it was a centre for the trade of straits products, whether during the Sri Vijaya empire, Majaphait or Siam. When Majapahit was at its height this region was under the strong influence of Majapahit Hindu-Javanese culture, more so than that of Ayuthaya.

This was followed by the decline of Majapahit’s power and the rise of Islam and Malacca as the centre of trade in the region. During the Ming dynasty in China (1911-2187 BE), and especially during the reign of Emperor Yung-lo, there was development in the construction of large-sized boats. Cheng Ho led a fleet of ships to explore trade opportunities across the oceans seven times between 1948-1978 BE[10] (it is thought he passed through the Doldrums). The era of Western colonialism began in 2054 BE when Portugal seized Malacca shortly after the Muslim world had spread its influence into this region. The region thus became an extremely diverse mixture of peoples and cultures including Hindus, Arabs, Persians, Indo-Javanese, the Islamic world, China and the West. In 2059 BE the Portuguese received permission to conduct trade with Pattani, with the effect that differences between peoples gradually began to take the place of the earlier similarities. Cultures that were once mutually compatible now gradually began to become ill-fitting.

Metallurgic culture, which can be seen in the kris dagger, is an example of Hindu-Javanese culture, both in terms of its form, use, and the beliefs attached to it. Symbols of Shiva and Uma were inscribed on the handle and the “eye” of the kris. Images of Ganesh, son of Shiva and Uma, are also found in the designs on the blade of the kris. Patterns based on the beliefs of the local people as well as the worship of Hindu gods are mixed up in the kris from the skill of metallurgy of the local people. The emergence of rituals eg. talak bala is a ritual for warding off evil from the community and is importantly related to playing kalo (music played in cremation ceremonies among the Thai Buddhists). Eg. The art of Javanese and Malay shadow puppetry displays interesting similarities and differences. The marriage ceremonies of Pattani people in which justar cloth is worn on the head shows the influence of Javanese culture. The use of the Mount Meru symbol in cremation ceremonies among the Thais of the lower south, called “samsang” (samsan Sanskrit; susan Pali), is similar to Mount Sumeru symbolism used in cremation procession ceremonies among the Balinese. The playing of kalo music in front of the corpse in cremation ceremonies among the Buddhist Thais of the south is again similar to the Balinese. The use of betel or banana bai sri in auspicious ceremonies among the Thai Buddhists in the south is similar to the bai sri of the Thai Muslims.[11] These are all examples of an integrated culture.

Kalo musical instruments are Javanese-Malay, but the Muslims do not play them at funeral ceremonies in the evening as the Thai Buddhists do, due to the religious ruling that the dead body should not be kept over night unless necessary. In the lak phra festival Thai Buddhists in southern Thailand have adapted the Mount Sumeru of the Hindus and constructed an imitation called yot phanom, where the Buddha image is placed. It has been adapted to look like a monthop [square structure with a spire] called a benja or binja in the ritual of washing the head of important or senior people, or as a gesture of respect for pople generally. The adaptations vary according to the dynamics of each community.

In the 35 years between 2149 and 2184 BE the Dutch attempted to corner the lucrative trade in the region by taking over the position of trade middleman at Malacca from the Portuguese, which it eventually achieved in 2184 BE. Thus the Dutch brought an end Portugal’s relations with the Malay region.[12] The centre of trade subsequently moved gradually from Malacca to Pattani. By the early Ayuthaya period Pattani had become the centre of trade between Europeans, Chinese, Japanese, Javanese, Sumatrans, Indians, Arabs, and the Persians, and was a more important trading port than Ayuthaya. At the same time the influence of this cosmopolitan culture of Pattani spread to the lower part of southern Thailand and upper Malaysia.

Viewing the Ties of Brotherhood in the Age of Commerce

Since ancient times to the era of navigation it can be seen that the peoples and cultures of the lower south of which Pattani was the centre were very diverse. Some cultures overlapped, and some showed similarities with the culture of the middle south and the upper south. The factors that caused the similar and different dynamics were Hindu-Javanese culture, Javanese-Malay, Islam, and Mahayana and Sri Lankan Buddhism, and the use of different languages and scripts. Therefore, the differences and similarities that exist in the cultures are based on 4 important foundations: (1) religious principles; (2) local culture and practices which do not contradict religious principles; (3) customs, traditions and laws; and (4) universal practices. The factor that has led to a distancing or estrangement between these cultures has generally tended to be administrative power. In other words, the aim is peace, but different people have sought different paths of achieving it.

In this era of globalization and commerce when cultures compete among themselves these ties of brotherhood have becoming looser and more brittle, easy to break. This is the case with the growing problem regarding the border of southern Thailand at this moment. Academics, politicians, and businessmen are looking for a word to rebuild and strengthen the former ties of “brotherhood,” that is, “culture,” but their definitions of culture are not the same, with the result that their use of the nature and power of culture goes in diverging directions.

Most people regard the nature and power of culture like a moon orbiting far away, sending out soft moonbeams. They believe this might be the very best way to end the violence and bring about peace. But viewing culture on this very broad canvas in the end is usually fruitless. For example, the policy of the National Security Council[13] is aware that the cultural similarities between the Thai Buddhists and Muslims can be used to end the conflict. But after the announcement of this policy there was nothing. No matter how hard one tries, nothing seems to come of it because culture is viewed as a far away dream, not as something that can fruitfully be put into practice. It is not possible to separate the issues so that those involved at each level and in each aspect can see where and how to start the process. The main idea should be translated into something more tangible than this; for example, looking at the culture of work of people in the locality, the culture of creating and utilizing resources, the culture of creating standards and options, the culture of learning, recognizing the strong and weak points of tradition and habits which inform the structure and personality of the people in the region, etc. A society or community that lacks the ability to create and enhance these things at the micro level will find it difficult to achieve the goals it desires at the macro level.

Social scientists and anthropologists ought to help create a new species of humanity for this region, that is a “culturally integrated ethnic group.” For example, the counting of relatives through the common culture of harvesting rice using a kae knife, as their ancestors used to do. Join together in the search for the spirit of common kinship that exists in the shared rituals of porn khao khwan. Search deeply into those aspects of a common sub-culture which still exist in the present, eg. the yok rap festival (for food) and the custom of the Thai Muslims in the south of preparing plates of food to welcome guests. All the various customs which have spread from beliefs related to death and Mount Sumeru, be they “gunung,” bai sri, benja, phanom phra, yot khom khrorp long sop, etc. Perhaps the spirit of our descendants which is immanent in all these things might help restore our brotherhood and make it even stronger than before.

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[1] Indonesia (Department of International Republic of Indonesia, Indonesia 1997,) p.11.

[2] Nidhi Aeusrivongse, “Chawa-Melayu: People and Culture in the South,” Encyclopaedia of Thai Culture: Southern Thailand, Vol. 3, (Thai Phanit Foundation, 1999), p.1963.

[3] Explanation of Khun Silapakitphisan, former head of provincial education in Songkhla province and teacher of Malay at Chulalongkorn University.

[4] Phra Rot Meri Kham Kap: Wannakam Thorngthin Pha Tai Praphet But Khao (Phra Rot Meri in Kap Verse: Southern Thai Local Literature in But Manuscripts) (Khrongkan Phumpanyathaksin Jak Wannakam Lae Preutikam, Thailand Research Fund, 2001-2004).

[5] The phrases “sao yat nap yot” or “sao yan nap yot” used in southern Thai culture refer to the counting of relatives of the same bloodline or lineage according to race. The word yot has two senses: 1. roots, origins; 2 deriving from the term yojana meaning “far apart” / “utility.”

[6] Indonesia 1997, p.12.

[7] Khlongchai Hattha, Pattani: Kan Kha Lae Kan Muang Kan Pokkhrorng nai Adit (Pattani: Trade and Politics in the Past) (Songkhlanakharin University, 1998), p.65.

[8] Prasert Withayarat, “Saphap Phumisat Khorng Khap Samut Sathing Phra” (The Geography of the Sathing Phra Peninsula), in Prawatisat Lae Boranakhadi Khap Samut Sathing Phra (History and Archaeology of Sathing Phra) (Southern Thai Studies Institute, 1993), pp. 14-15.

[9] Khlongchai Hattha, op.cit., p. 65.

[10] Suthiwong Phongphaibun et al. Jin Thaksin: Withi Lae Phalang (The Southern Thai Chinese: Way of Life and Power) (Thailand Research Fund, 1997), pp. 33-35.

[11] Suthiwong Phongphaibun et al. op.cit., p. 37.

[12] Suthiwong Phongphaibun et al., Katho Sanim Krit Lae Withi Chiwit Chao Tai Torn Lang (Knocking off the Rust on the Kris: Examining the Way of Life of the People of the Lower South) (Thailand Research Fund, 2000), pp. 75-158.

[13] An important section of the policy of the National Security Council in relation to the southern border provincs (2542-2546 BE) is as follows: “everyone in the area of the southern border provinces can live peacefully and happily based on the uniqueness in religion and culture, especially Thai Muslims who are the majority in the area can live as Muslims in Thai society…”

from Kyoto Review

Pemahaman Terhadap Situasi di Thailand selatan Melalui Perspektif Pemberontakan “Seributahunan"

2007-06-16T01:15:00.000-07:00

Nidhi Aeusrivongse

Diterjemahkan oleh Regional Studies Program, Walailak University dari “Morng sathannakarn phaktai phan wæn ‘kabot chaona’,” Sinlapa Watthanatham vol.25, no.8 (June 2004): 110-124.

Pelaku Utama adalah “Rakyat Kecil”

Susah ditolak bahwa situasi di Thailand selatan dalam tahun ini [2004 – ED.] adalah gerakan sosial yang mengikutsertakan ratusan orang di dalamnya.[1] Kalau kita melibatkan orang-orang yang telah memberikan dukungan pada operasi tersebut, jumlah mereka bisa sampai ribuan orang atau lebih.

Dalam hal ini saya tidak tertarik pada penjelasan tentang siapa yang memimpin gerakan sosial berskala besar itu, siapa orang yang mendalanginya atau darimana gerakan tersebut memperoleh dukungan. Mencari siapa kelompok pemimpin dari gerakan tersebut tidak membantu kita dalam upaya untuk memahaminya. Persoalan itu bukan lah sebuah peristiwa tunggal, seperti penyerangan perompakan senjata tentara [on 4 January 2004], pembunuhan pegawai negeri, pembakaran sekolah, atau serangan terhadap kesatuan polisi oleh kekuatan kaum militan, tetapi adalah gerakan yang melibatkan banyak orang. Tidak ada seseorang yang bisa memerintah atau menarik sebegitu banyak orang untuk melakukan operasi kekerasan seperti yang terjadi (bahkan dengan memakai obat-obatan sekalipun). Dalam hal itu pasti ada sejumlah factor yang telah mendorong para rakyat kecil bergerak keluar untuk suatu kepentingan umum. Untuk dapat mengerti situasi di wilayah Selatan, maka dari itu, hal yang perlu adalah memahami kondisi yang melingkupinya dan sejumlah factor yang mempengaruhi kehidupan rakyat kecil tersebut.

Sebuah negera yang otoriter tidak begitu peduli terhadap rakyat kecil yang berpartisipasi dalam gerakan sosial. Negara yang seperti itu tidak pernah berpikir bahwa orang biasa bisa menggerakkan sebuah gerakan politik atau sosial oleh dirinya sendiri, mereka selalu harus dipimpin seseorang, atau digoda oleh suapan, ataupun akibat dari penipuan.

Meskipun ada penghasutan, suapan, atau penipuan yang sesungguhnya, semua hal ini tidak dapat menjelaskan perilaku rakyat kecil yang mengikutsertakan dirinya ke dalam gerakan. Katakanlah bahwa ada banyak rakyat kecil yang memilih untuk tidak mengikutsertakan dirinya ke dalam gerakan, sebagai bagian dari sejumlah orang yang melibatkan dirinya dalam gerakan, pertanyaannya adalah mengapa satu kelompok memilih untuk bergabung dengan gerakan, sedangkan satu kelompok yang lain memilih untuk tidak terlibat?

Siapa Pelaku Utama?

Kebetulan peristiwa pada tanggal 28th April [Ed: 2004] yang mengakibatkan sejumlah besar orang meninggal dunia telah memungkinkan kita untuk mempelajari siapa sebenarnya rakyat kecil itu. [Ed: Peristwanya menyatakan serangan yang dikoordinasi oleh para militant beberapa kanto polisi de provinsi Pattani, Yala, dan Narativat, dan pos keamanan di mesjid Kresik di Provinsi Pattani. Serangannya ditindas dan mengakibatkan 107 jiwa militant meninggal, termasuk penyitaan de mesjid Kresik.]

Kalau kita melihat kekuatan yang mengambil bagian dalam kejadian pada tanggal 28th April, mereka dari kebanyakan, menurut media massa, adalah orang dari pedesaan. Ini konsisten dengan wawancara terhadap komandan angkatan darat keempat yang mengatakan bahwa mereka memperoleh latihan militer di beberapa wilayah di kecamatan (Amphoe) Sabayoi, provinsi Songkhla, atau Amphoe Kabang, Amphoe Yaha, Amphoe Thanto, Amphoe Aiyaweng, dan Amphoe Betong di provinsi Yala. Dia mengatakan bahwa semua daerah itu adalah pegunungan yang diselimuti hutan jadi petugas tidak dapat memeriksanya. (Matichon, 3 May 2004).

Wawancara dengan komandan angkatan darat keempat seiring dengan informasi dari sumber intelijen militer bahwa para pemuda telah menerima latihan militer secara rahasia (Saya tidak yakin apa yang dimaksud “pemuda”, karena pengumuman berita setelah peristiwa tersebut menyebutkan bahwa rata-rata umur orang yang meninggal sekitar 25 sampai 30 tahun yang berarti mereka tidak bisa disebut sebagai “pemuda” lagi). Latihan militer itu mengambil tempat di daerah pegunungan atau di dekat pedesaan yang lokasinya jauh dari manapun. Siiapa pun yang melakukan pelatihan tersebut tampak bahwa dia dapat meningkatkan kemampuan yang dilatih menjadi kelompok-kelompok berperingkat tinggi (high-ranking groups) yang memiliki kemampuan untuk melakukan serangan secara tiba-tiba terhadap target polisi. (Bagian Perspektif, Bangkok Post, 2 Mei 2004).

Ketika penulis berusaha mencari latar belakang orang yang meninggal, tetapi hal mengenai mereka tidak diperhatikan oleh media massa sama sekali. Oleh karena itu, kita hanya dapat mengetahui sedikit sekali tentang mereka.

Salah seorang yang telah terluka adalah Abdulroning Cheloh, orang dari Amphoe Khokpho, provinsi Pattani. Istrinya memberikan kesaksian bahwa pekerjaannya adalah buruh penyadap karet (Matichon, 2 Mei 2004), yang memberikan suatu pandangan bahwa status keuangan keluarganya sangat miskin karena dia bekerja sebagai buruh yang menyadap karet di pedesaan tanpa modalnya sendiri.

Kepala (kamnan) wilayah sub-kecamatan Thankhiri, sebuah wilayah administrative yang mencakup desa Susoh tempat matinya sembilan belas kaum militant yang telah menyerang menyerang kantor polisi Amphoe Sabayo, mengatakan bahwa “masalah yang paling parah adalah pendidikan karena kebanyakan anak-anak di sini adalah penganggur. Mereka tidak dapat pekerjaan karena tidak memiliki pengetahuan. Kebanyakannya belajar hanya sampai sekolah dasar dan tertingi hanya SMP. Lalu mereka harus membantu orang tuanya sebagai penyadap karet. Selain itu mereka tidak melakukan apa-apa” (Matichon, 2 Mei 2004). Baik tingkat pendidikan maupun kondisi pekerjaannya memberi petunjuk kepada kita bahwa mereka adalah korban dari disintegrasi sosial di pedesaan.

Meskipun begitu ada beberapa kasus yang berbeda dari scenario ini, contohnya PakSanphu and Pak Maroning Yogmakeh, dua-duanya meninggal akibat ditembak. Ayah mereka mengekpresi dukacitanya atas kerugiannya terutama anaknya yang lebih tua (tidak jelas yang mana) yang baru lulus SMU dari sekolah Islam Witthaya dan baru mendaftar memasuki perguruan tinggi latihan polisi. Selain itu ada sebuah informasi yang menunjukkan bahwa kaum militant yang mengoperasikan gerakan, dan mungkin bahkan semua pergerakan itu sendiri, kemungkinan tidak berhubungan dengan elit tradisional (terutama pemimpin agama. ed). Misalnya, Bangkok Post April 27th melaporkan bahwa telah menemukan selebaran yang tersebar di tiga provinsi selatan adalah Jalan Dalohala-Raman, di Amphoe Raman, provinsi Yala, di Amphoe Khokpho, provinsi Pattani, dan di Amphoe Roesoh, provinsi Narathiwat. Dalam selebaran itu terdapat gambar seorang pemimpin agama sedang memberikan sesuatu kepada polisi berseragam. Sebebaran diltulis dalam bahasa Thai meminta pemimpin agama Islam harus menghentikan perannya dalam bekerjasama dengan polisi dalam memberikan informasi intelijen mengenai kerusuhan di Selatan.

Permintaan tersebut mungkin akan menunjukkan bahwa kebanyakan pemimpin agama tidak memiliki keterlibatan dengan pergerakan. Mereka tidak ada hubungan sejati dengan kaum militant atau pergerakan. Saya agak curiga bahwa bukan kaum militant itu sendiri atau pergerakan yang mereka pimpin memiliki hubungan yang nyata dengan elit tradisional. Faktanya, penangkapan atau tuduhan yang diberikan terhadap “biang keladi” oleh petugas pemerintahan, hingga sekarang ini belum memiliki bukti yang jelas untuk memenuhi tuduhan. Saya telah berkesempatan membaca dua kasus dalam “Laporan Studi Kasus…” yang disiapkan oleh agen inteligen militer dari Direktorat Keamanan Dalam negeri untuk angkatan bersenjara IV dari wilayah divisi II, yang berusaha mengkaitkan semua pergerakan dengan elit tradisional baik lokal maupun tingkat nasional. Tetapi semua kesimpulan laporan itu tanpa dasar, curiga tanpa sebab dan mungkin sengaja menginterprasi bukti untuk sesuai dengan cerita yang diciptakan mereka sendiri (akan tetapi dipercayai oleh para pemimpin nasional). Jadi penulis masih mengkonfirmasi bahwa gerakan rakyat kecil, dan yang menggerakkan operasi tersebut tidaklah berkaitan dengan pemimpin tradisional di tingkat lokal.

Saya juga merasa tidak yakin apakah organisasasai-organisasi anti pemerintah Thai yang terkenal seperti PULO, BRN, Bersatu, dlan lain sebagainya[2] memiliki kaitan dengan gerakan tersebut seperti yang ingin mereka nyatakan.[3] Tentu saja, mereka mendukung dan memuji aksi rakyat kecil, walaupun mereka tidak mendukung gerakan secara langsung tetapi mereka mempunyai tujuan politik yang sama. Sebenarnya gerakan seperti PULO, BRN, dll. Kelihatan kurang memiliki kekuatan organisasional dalam mengelola aksi-aksi. Mereka tidak pernah memiliki kecakapan untuk menggerakkan suatu operasi gerakan dalam skala yang besar dan secara terus menerus seperti garakan ini.

Patut diperhatikan bahwa pernyataan yang diumum oleh PULO setelah peristiwa pada tanggal 28th April belumlah mengaku bertanggungjawab atas peristiwa tersebut, yang mana hal ini menunjukkan bahwa PULO sendiri bisa jadi tidak mengetahui banyak tentang “pahlawan” yang telah mereka puji atas pengorbanan dan keberaniannya. Pernyataan PULO cenderung untuk lebih menjaga para “pahlawan” itu tanpa nama, meskipun mereka pasti mengetahui bahwa pemerintah Thai tidak akan mengalami kesulitan untuk mendapatkan nama-nama mereka dan keluarga dari kaum militan yang meninggal.

Ideologi Pelaku Utama

Media massa yang menerima informasi dari pemeintah atau penjabat posisi tinggi secara patuh menggambarkan para militan sebagai kelompok separatis yang mau berpisah dan membangun negeri Pattani yang merdeka dari kontrol politik negera Thai, pada waktu yang sama mereka mendapat kan inspirasi dari pengikut varian ajaran Islam yang ekstrim.

Hal itu benar bahwa ada sejumlah bukti pada kaum militant yang meninggal atau yang diperoleh dari hasil interograsi kaum militant yang telah ditahan bisa jadi mendukung penafsiran semacam itu. Tetapi, mari kita lihat secara lebih teliti tentang ideologi yang telah dikatakan di atas.

Sekalipun kaum militan dan pergerakan mereka (termasuk organisasi-organisasi yang mendukungnya seperti PULO) mungkin ingin membangun negeri Pattani merdeka, hingga tanggal 28th April organisasi-organisasi ini tidak melakukan apa-apa yang membantu mewujudkan pemisahan politik dalam tindakan yang nyata di situasi dunia sekarang sekarang ini. Tidak muncul upaya yang serius untuk mendapat pengakuan, pemahaman, dan simpati dari negeri berkuasa untuk kesatuan politik yang akan lahir baru ini. Bahkan tidak muncul juga penyebaran penderitaan orang Muslim Melayu di bawah pemerintahan Negeri Thai yang beragama Buddha ke dunia luar.

Di dunia sekarang ini, pemisahan politik dari negara yang secara ekonomi dan politik sepenting Thailand tidak mungkin berhasil kalau tidak dapat pengakuan, paling tidak dengan secara implisit dari Negara-negara yang kuat. Dalam hal ini, seperti Amerika Serikat, Cina, Uni Eropa, Jepang, ataupun negeri-negeri ASEAN, akan lebih dapat keuntungan dari negeri Thailand yang stabil, utuh secara nasional dan memiliki ketenangan, daripada negeri Thailand yang hancur-hancuran dan menjadi kacau.

Aktivitas yang masih berlanjut dari kaum militan seperti membunuh petugas negara atau penyerangan terhadap sejumlah kecil pasukan keamanan pemerintah, membakar sekolah dan kantor-kantor pemerintahan bukan cara yang masuk akal untuk pendirian Negeri merdeka. Ini tidak mungkin bagi kaum militant biosa mengalahkan pasukan bersenjata Thai. Lebih dari itu, Semakin memakai perlawanan seperti ini, semakin menghilangankan dukungan dari orang-orang terhadap mereka. Dan operasi tidakbertanggungjawab yang menghasilkan hilangnya dukungan massa seperti membakar sekolah semakin tidak memberi kemungkinan bagi mereka untuk mengalahkan Negara Thai melalui kekerasan. Sementara itu kemampuan mereka untuk menyusun keresahan akan semakin terbatas.

Masyarakat umum Thai tidak mungkin bersimpati terhadap tindakan kekerasan seperti itu, dan pemisahan politik dari negara Thai akan secara pasti memerlukan persetujuan. Sementara itu, pihak gerakan separatis tidak lah pernah secara serius berusaha untuk menyampaikan posisinya kepada publik Thai (baru belakang ini saja bahwa beberapa selebaran milik organisasi ditulis dalam bahasa Thai. Sebelumnya semuanya ditulis dalam bahasa Melayu lokal dengan aksara Jawi semua). Tindakan kaum militan, dengan demikian, malahan membuat publik Thai menolak pemisahan politik tersebut dengan keras.

Pertanyaan yang perlu ditanya adalah apakah organisasi-organisasi itu benar-benar ingin memisahkan diri secara politik, atau apakah mereka hanya menggunakan isu pemisahan negara supaya memicu rakyat kecil untuk bangkit dengan memakai senjata, padahal tujuan asli organisasi hanya untuk mendapat kan keuntungan dalam bernegosiasi.

Organisasi-organisasi ini tidak pernah merencanakan masa depan Negara baru yangjelas dan nyata. Beberapa pernyataan PULO telah menyatakan tentang kekayaan dalam sumber alam di ดินแดน “Melayu Pattani”. Daerah ini memang subur, tetapi sumber alam itu dalam bentuk apa tidak pernah disebutkan dalam pernyataannya (PULO telah menyebutkan keberadaan tambang emas, tetapi dalam kaitannya dengan masa lalu). Hal ini akan menunjukan bahwa PULO sendiri tidak ada rencana yang jelas tentang negara Pattani yang merdeka, siapa akan boleh menggunakan sumber alam dan bagaimana cara mendistribusikan sumber alam itu kepada orang-orang; peran apa yang akan diberikan kepada 20% penduduk yang bukan Melayu Muslim yang sangat berpengaruh bagi ekonomi di daerah perkotaan; dan bagaimana cara berhubungan dengan kapitalis dari luar yang menginvestasi di bidang industri penangkapan ikan dan industri berkaitan dengannya, jadi jelas bagaimana kekayaan sumber alam itu akan dilaksanakan secara adil bagi semua pihak.

Lebih lanjut, identitas budaya negara Pattani baru lebih tidak jelas, daripada pememkaian bahasa dialek lokal dan agama Islam. Tetapi apakah negeri baru ini akan menjadi negeri Islam? Apa yang dimaksud dengan “Negeri Islam” pun memiliki aneka ragam penekanan. Bagaimana ajaran Islam akan menentukan negara Patani?

Orang-orang selalu bicara tentang kemuliaan keagungan Pattani pada masa lalu, tetapi kebangkitan sejarah Pattani tidak terjadi dari perlakuan gerakan separatis. Bagian akhir buku Hikayat Pattani ditulis oleh Ibrahim Syukri, yang setahu saya, tidak berkaitan dengan gerakan separatis mana pun. Lagi pula, naskah bahasa Melayu yang disebarkan dalam bentuk mimeograf ditulis dalam huruf Rumi dan Melayu tinggi, yang berarti kebanyakan rakyat kelas bawah tidak bisa membacanya. Sebenarnya versi bahasa Thai yang diterjemahkan oleh institut akedemi negeri Thai diterbitkan lebih banyak daripda versi asli, dan disebut dalam karya akademi lebih banyak juga.

Di tengah-tengah kekosongan ideologi, masjid Kreuse menjadi satu-satunya symbol budaya yang tangguh bagi orang-orang desa. Usaha untuk membangkit-bangkitkan kris Pattani, atau pencarian dan reproduksi teknologi kuno, adalah proyek yang dilakukan oleh akademisi Thai (kerja sama dengan penduduk desa di tingkat local) dan disubsidi oleh Thailand Research Fund milik pemerintah Thai. Ini di representasikan di lingkungan akademisi Thai sebagai kebudayaan lokal negara Thai. Tidak ada konteks negeri Pattani merdeka dari kewenangan politik Thai, baik masa lalu dan masa depan.

Say percaya bahwa organisasi-organisasi separstis bermimpi tentang negeri Pattani merdeka, atau setidaknya bebas dari “penindasan” negeri Thai. Tetapi organisasi-organisasi ini dan terutama kaum militan hanya melihat idea yang dikhayalkan ini dengan samar-samar saja. Tetapi itu tidak penting, karena negeri Pattani yang dibayangkan itu hanya merupakan simbol atau lebih kehususnya disebut sebagai sebuah negeri khayalan…sesuatu-atau apa saja-yang bukan realitas sekarang. Tak seorangpun yang bisa memberi konseptualisasi tentang negara yang nyata, oleh karena itu yang kita miliki hanyalah sebuah negara fantasi. Itu tidak akan menjadi kenyataan di masa depan, karena tidak ada cara yang nyata pada masa sekarang ini untuk mencapai cita-cita itu.

Bahkan salah satu dari pernyataan PULO sendiri pun menerangkan bahwa “dengan sumber alam dari darat dan laut dua-duanya kita bisa membangunakan negeri sekaya Brunei, saudara kita” membuktikan bahwa semua itu hanyalah negara hayalan saja.

Sebagaimana halnya dengan agama Islam, sejumlah pegawai pemerintahan dari jabatan tinggi dan beberapa laporan dinas rahasia berusaha mengkaitkan gerakan sosial ini dengan Muslim fundamentalisme internasional, baik dana dan ideologi. Kenyataannya tidak ada satupun bukti nyata yang membuktikan akan fantasi ini. Beberapa laporan rahasia dinas mengumpul riwayat hidup orang Muslim asing yang mengajar di beberapa sekolah dan pondoks di selatan, tidak ada seorangpun yang jelas bisa disebut bawah mereka adalah pengancam keamanan nasional. Kebanyakan dari mereka yang tidak diizinkan untuk memperpanjang tinggal oleh kantor immigrasi. Jadi mereka pergi ke Malaysia dan kembali masuk ke Thailand sebagai turis dan tinggal secara tidak sah, tidak berbeda dengan para buruh yang berpindah melarikan diri dari kemiskinan di negerinya untuk mencari kerja di Thailand. Seorang asing yang dicuriga menyepelekan keamanan nasional Thai secara rahasia masuk kembali dari Malaysia ke Thailand ternyata tidak lah bisa mendapatkan posisi pekerjaan sebagai pengajar di sekolah seperti dahulu, dan hal ini telah menjadikanya sebagai penyelundup daging sapi yang tidak sah secara hokum dari Malaysia. Jelas sekali dia bukan ulama terpelajar yang mendapat penghormatan dari orang-orang. Dia tidak banyak berpengetahuan dalam ideologi fundamentalisme Islam, dan tidak terlihat sebagai penganut yang setia kepada kelompok militan radikal seperti Al Qaeda. Dia hanyalah orang miskin yang harus berjuang untuk hidup dalam dunia tanpa batasan seperti sekarang ini.

Kalau kita memikirkan apa yang dimaksud dengan aspek perilaku “ke-Islam-an” kaum militant akan ketemu bahwa hal itu terdiri dari beberapa prinsip dasar yang semua orang Muslim telah terbiasa. Tidak ada satu pun yang memberi kesan bahwa para militan itu atau organisasi-organisasi mempunyai pengetahuan Islam yang mendalam. Polisi dan tentara suka mengkaitkan pergerakan dan kaum militant pada pengajar agama Islam dengan pengajar agama (toh khru) atau pemikir Islam asing. Tetapi kalau hubungan itu benar-benar ada tidak ada ajaran Islam yang amat mendasar dalam gerakan sosial ini. Tidak ada dokumen yang bisa menjelaskan alasan kaum separatis dengan doktrin ajaran agama. Salah satu pernyataan PULO secara sengaja mengutip Quran yang menerangakan bahwa “tidak boleh hidup di bawah kekuasaan kafir (penyembah berhala); sebenarnya orang-orang yang menanggap kafir sebagai penguasanya tidak akan berhasil baik dunia ini maupun akhirat.” meskipun demikian, pengamat Islam yang penulis telah berkonsaltasi menyatakan bahwa tidak ada istilah itu dalam Quran dan istilah yang bisa dianggap bahwa artinya dekat dengan ayat tersebut bisa ditafsirkan menjadi banyak makna. Lagi pula pernyataan yang menyebut “Bangkit, saudara-saudari Melayu Pattani dan Melayu dimana-mana! Bangkit untuk memperjuangkan ketidakadilan Siam dalam semua bentuk!” tidak dimaksudkan untuk disampaikan kepada pendengar Muslim.

Beberapa surat kabar melaporkan bahwa militan yang meninggal mengenakan pakaian yang bertukiskan huruf Arabic “tidak ada tuhan-tuhan kecuali Allah.” (la illaha illa allah- ed) Penyataan ini dalam bahasa Arab adalah sesuatu yang sudah lazim bagi semua orang Muslim sama dengan disebut orang Buddha “Namo tassa”, Karena adalah setengah penyataan agama dalam bahasa Arab yang semua Muslim harus mengucapkan, “Tidak ada tuhan-tuhan yang lain selain Allah itu sendiri dan Nabi Muhammad adalah utusan Allah.”[4]

Beberapa media menyebutkan pesan lain yang dituis dalam huruf bahasa Arab di belakang pakaian orang yang mati diterjemahkan secara longgar yang kemudian artinya menjadi: “biar saya mati untuk tuhan”. Sebenarnya, “Lâ ilâha illâ Allah" berarti, menurut orang desa di desa Dato, “tdiak ada tuhan lain yang patut untuk dupuja selain Allah” (sebenarnya, ini adalah bagian awal dari pernyataan tentang keimanan beragama untuk orang Muslim seperti sebut di atas). Secara tradisi, ketika orang sakit hampir meninggal, saudara dan teman-temannya akan mengajarnya mengucapkan setengah pertama penyataan agama ini, karena mereka percaya bahwa Nabi Muhammad juga mengucapkannya sebelum meninggal dunia (Srisakra, p.33).

Jadi, sebanyakanya maksud tulisan bahasa Arab di belakang pakaian para militan adalah mereka siap untuk mati. Atau mereka mungkin menggunakan ucapan penting ini untuk orang Muslim sebagai mantra, karena ungkapan bahasa Arab mana yang akan lebih “suci” bagi orang desa Mulsim daripada ucapannya?

Sama dengan, ungkapan “Allahu Akbar", atau “Allah maha besar”, yang menurut beberapa laporan media melapor bahwa para militan bersuara ketika menyerang pihak polisi. Ucapan pemujian Tuhan ini sudah biasa bagi orang Muslim seluruh dunia dan telah mengucapkannya selama berabad-abad. Dan ucapan ini boleh dikatakanlah sebagai sebuah kata “suci” juga.

Semua bagian tersebut menunjukkan bahwa pemahaman agama Islam kaum militan agak bersifat dasar dan tidak begitu berbeda dari pengetahuan agama Islam yang dilakukan di antara orang Muslim biasa. Ini juga muncul seiring dengan kesimpulan yang sudah disebut di atas bahwa gerakan sosial tidak berhubungan dengan elit tradisi. Pengetahuan kaum militant mengenai Islam tidaklah amat dalam jika dibandingkan dengan apa yang dimiliki oleh toh khru.

(Sebenarnya, meskipun polisi dan pemerintah mengatakan bahwa tidak ada bukti apapun tentang hubungan antara para militan dan sekolah pondok. Misalnya, ketika ada laporan bahwa senjata api disembunyi di dalam beberpa sekolah pondok, pasukan keamanan yang dikirim untuk menyelidiki tidak pernah menemukan bukti tindakan tidak sah. Pemerintah selalu berkesimpulan bahwa kegagalan pencarian senjata api disebabkan kebocoran inteligensi…Jadi, kalau senjata apai ditemukan akan meyakinkan kecurigaan pemerintah; tetapi kalau mereka tidak menemukan apa-apa masih tidak lepas dari curiganya. Kapan pemerintah akan mempertajam kecurigaan atas kecurigaannya sendiri?)

Ada laporan media satu lagi yang mungkin membuat orang salah mengerti. Orang-orang desa yang masih pertalian saudara dengan para militan yang meninggal tidak membolehkan acara mandi mayat untuk orang mati. Beberapa media mengatakan bahwa hal ini didasarkan dari kepercayaan bahwa orang yang meninggal dalam jalan Tuhan tidak boleh mandi mayat sebelum dikebumikan. Tetapi menurut adat Muslim di Thailand selatan, orang yang mati tenggelam, mati terbakar, atau mati digigit binatang liar, atau sudah mati beberapa hari, atau mati karena membela negara atau agama, sama sekali tidak akan dimandikan mayatnya (Srisakra, hlm.18) (semuanya adalah kematian dari kekerasan). Ini berjalin dengan ide kebersihan yang merupakan sesuatu yang penting bagi ajaran Islam. Jadi upaya saudara orang-orang yang meninggal untuk mempertahankan jenasah tersebut untuk tidak dimandikan adalah hal yang biasa yang selalu dilakukan dalam kalangan masyarakat Muslim, dan tidak harus mempunyai arti politik apa-apa.

Jadi reaksi yang dimiliki oleh kaum militant terhadap negara Thai tidak berakar dari ideologi politik yang baru atau ideologi agama yang akhir-akhir ini telah mereka indoktrinasikan. Tetapi, seperti yang saya ingin sampaikan dalam karangan ini, perubahan yang mempengaruhi orang desa tidak disebabkan ideologi apa pun. Masalah lebih berkaitan dengan akibat dari perubahan ekonomi dan sosial terhadap orang desa itu.

Tentu saja, sebagai kontras terhadap Islam, kalau kita mengikuti laporan yang telah disebarluaskan melalui media, penulis merasa bahwa hal itu merupakan kepercayaan yang bersifat tahyul (yang dilarang oleh agama Islam) yang justru berperan penting dalam konflik ini.

Beberapa media melaporkan bahwa pada tanggal 28 April 2004 para militant memakai tasbih (beberapa laporan bilang warnanya putih) dan mengikat kepalanya dengan pita merah. Sementara itu media memberi perhatian kepada pita merah karena dibandingkan dengan kelompok Hamas di Palestina.P enulis justru berpikir bahwa yang lebih menarik adalah tasbih yang dipakai. Apa alasan yang mereka harus mengenakan tasbih yang bukan peraturan agama Islam, dan sebenarnya tidak perlu untuk upacara sembahyang agama Islam? Sekte Islam yang biasanya memakai tasbih adalah Sufi, yang Sunni mainstream tidak begitu setuju. Dalam sejarah Islam Sufi pun pernah memberontak melawan ulama Sunni dan pemerintahnya beberapa kali, dan pemborontakan ini juga dibubarkan oleh Sunni beberpa kali. Tetapi tasbih hanya alat untuk dipakai dalam meditasi Sufi bukan jimat untuk si pemakainya. Alasan kaum sufi yang “rishi” ["pertapa" trans.] memakainya di leher hanya mencegahnya supaya tidak hilang.

Bagaimanapun kelihatan bahwa pengetahuan para militan tentang Sufi tidak begitu yang mendalam. Pemuda Sabayoi mengatakan bahwa mereka penganut “Latthi Supri” [Sufi]. (perhatikan dari ucapan kata ini; kata “f” tidak ada dalam bahasa Melayu, jadi kosa kata Arab yang berkonsonan suara ini bisa sebut dua suara, yaitu dengan huruf “f” atau “p” yang paling dekat dengan suara dalam bahasa Melayu. Orang berpendidikan bisa menyebut suara “f” sebaliknya orang dusun biasa akan menyebut suara ini jadi “p”. Contohnya, kata faham dalam bahasa Arab – artinya mengerti – orang desa akan menyebut bahwa “paham”. Pemanggilan pemuda pada Sufi jadi “Supri” atau "Supi" juga tercermin tingkat pendekatan mereka dengan Sufi yang asli). Para pemuda bercerita bahwa menurut prinsip Sufi mereka harus melakukan upacara “ma-umna” sebelum menggerakan operasi, yang terdiri dari meditasi, menyanyi syair suci, dan menghitung “gacabek” atau tasbih. Upacara ini dilakukan diam-diam di dalam gua selama satu bulan. Kalau mereka sudah siap untuk memulai operasi mereka harus minum segelas air suci (Matichon, 2 Mei 2004).

Proses penyanyian syair suci sebelum menyerang kantor polisi dilaporkan dalam hampir semua media. Salah satu saluran TV melaporkan bahwa polisi menemukan salah satu saluran TV yang melaporkan bahwa politsi telah menemukan syair suci dalam baju mayat seorang militan. Bagaimanapun ketika polisi menyelidiki akarnya mereka menemukan bahwa syair suci itu milik seorang lelaki Muslim yang bukan militan. Dia memberikan kesaksian bahwa dia memang pemilik syair suci itu, tapi sebenarnya itu adalah milik ayahnya yang telah meninggal dan pernah bekerja sebagai polisi. Syair suci itu memberikan kekuatan kekebalan kepada pemiiknya, misalnya kemampuan menyembunyikan dirinya dari musuh atau melindungi dirinya dari senjata. Militan yang meninggal meminta syair suci itu dari dia tetapi dia tidak tahu apa yang harus dilakukan terhadap syair itu.

Ada laporan yang lain dari masjid Kreuse mengatakan bahwa setiap militan harus minum air berwarna biru sebelum menyerang. Penulis percaya bahwa air itu adalah air suci daripada obat (yang mendorong agresifitas seperti dari jenis lexotan -ed).[5]

Kepercayaan bahwa mereka dilindungi oleh keajaiban ini memberikan keberanian yang luar biasa kepada para militan pada tanggal 28th April 2004 yang komandan angkatan darat memberikan wawancara bahwa “dari pengalaman dalam perang kita tidak pernah menemui pejuang yang berani, nekat luar biasa seperti ini” (Matichon, 2 Mei 2004). Dan sama dengan pemberontakan yang menggunakan ilmu hitam pada masa lalu. Ketika meraka mnerasa bahwa mantra tidak bisa melindungi mereka dari musuh, mereka melarikan diri menyelamatkan hidupnya, seperti kasus 16 mayat yang ditemukan di Sabayoi. Sesudah kehilangan teman-temanya dalam serangan, mereka melarikan diri dan bersembunyi di dalam restoran lokal, tetapi diikuti oleh petugas yang membunuh mereka semuanya. Kasus masjid Kreuse, walaupun kita tidak bisa mengetahui apa yang terjadi dengagn jelas, tetapi para militan melepaskan tiga sandera (Bangkok Post, 29 April 2004), kelihatan bahwa ada kemungkinan peluang untuk perundingan. Sepertinya mereka telah merasa ragu terhadap keampuhan dari kekuatan tahyul (supernatural).

Pemberontakan Seributahunan

Penulis telah menyusun semua informasi ini untuk memperdebatkan bahwa kita tidak akan mengerti gerakan sosial di Thailand Selatan jika kita hanya mendasarkan pada hanya satu teori (atau perspektif) yang memfokuskan diri pada aspek “biangkeladi”, atau teori yang ingin menjelaskan hanya beberapa kejadian yang tertentu saja sementara mengabaikan kejadian lain yang terjadi berhubungan dengannya. Jadi teori yang dipresentasikan oleh pemimpin pemerintah dan pegawai negeri saling menyangkal (dan bahja beberapa kali menyangkal diri sendiri sekali pun) dan tidak bisa menjelaskan semua kejadian dalam teori itu.

Penulis ingin memperdebatkan bahwa teori mana yang akan bisa menjelaskan gerakan sosial ini haruslah memfokus pada sejumlah besar “rakyat kecil” yang mengikutsertakan diri dalam pemberontakan. Merekalah yang menjadi hakekat yang sejati dalam gerakan sosial ini, dan gerakan ini harus dimengerti sebagai pemberontakan “millenarian” dalam abad keduapuluh satu.

“Millenarian movements” yang disebut dalam bahasa Thai sebagai “pemberontakan petani” (kabot chao na) atau “pemberontakan Phra Sri-arn” (kabot phra sri-arn) adalah gerakan perlawanan rakyat kecil pada tingkat lokal, misalnya petani, buruh menyadap dalam hutan rimba, nelayan pantai, penernak hewan berkeliling, buruh tambang, orang pribumi, dll. Rakyat kecil ini secara regular melakukan perlawanan terhadap perubahan yang tidak begitu mereka mengerti, tetapi sebenarnya perubahan-perubahan yang berasal dari luar telah menghancurkan kehidupan mereka. Kekuatan dari luar itu sering dari pemerintah pusat atau petugasnya, pedagang luar, kapital dan kapitalis (karena mereka mempunyai cara untuk memusnahkan para kapitalis lokal, misalnya menuduh mereka adalah hantu menghisap darah), organisasi agama baru, dan lain sebagainya

Karena perubahan-perubahan yang mempengaruhi terhadap rakyat kecil terjadi seluruh dunia dalam abad kesembilanbelas, jadi terjdi banyak pemerontakan yang muncul setiap seribu tahun dalam banyak negara seluruh dunia. Dan karena ada banyak informasi tentang gerakan sosial ‘pemerontakan seributahunan’ (millenarian movement) dalam abad kesembilanbelas dipakai sebagai model untuk menjelaskan gerakan yang rupanya sama pada abad lain juga. Bagaimanapun kita harus berhati-hati, dengan penjelasan yang didasarkan pada pola pemerointakan seributahunan pada abad sebelumnya berbeda dengan kontek dunia yang berada sekarang. Contohnya, komunikasi yang lebih bagus memudahkan pemberontakan tersebut bisa beroperasi di daerah yang lebih besar daripada daerah lokal yang sempit seperti dahulu. Kapasitas berjalan organisasi juga jauh lebih efisien, tidak termasuk kemajuan dalam teknologi yang menghasilkan senjata-senjata pembawa maut lebih banyak.

Seperti dikatakan di atas, rakyat kecil ini tidaklah mengerti betul tentang perubahan yang mempengaruhi kehidupan mereka dengan jelas. Akibatnya, mereka tidak mengetahui siapa yang menjadi musuh sejati mereka. Pengerahan mereka untuk melawan mungkin dilakukan tanpa sasaran yang telah ditentukan. Mereka berkecenderungan mengarah pada sasaran yang menjadi simbol musuhnya daripada musuhnya sendiri, karena musuhnya ada di luar dan tinggal jauh sehingga kemarahan rakayat kecil tidak dapat menyampai. Salah satu contoh ‘pemerointakan seributahunan’ di Thailand adalah pemberontakan Ngiaw di Phrae pada akhir abad kesembilanbelas. Pemberontak berkehendak untuk membunuh hanya “orang Thai” di daerah lokal di Thailand utara, terutama petugas yang dikirim dari pemerintah sentral. Dalam kasus Thailand Selatan sekarang, petugas-petugas yang diserang adalah polisi atau tentara yang berpangkat rendah, guru, kepala desa atau wilayah, dan satpam rumah sakit pun. Kebanyakan tempat pemerintah yang dibakar adalah pos pemeriksaan yang terpencil atau ditinggalkan. Semua sasaran ini sangat kecil sehingga kerugiannya tidak terasa oleh negeri Thai yang mereka anggap sebagai musuh mereka. Seorang warga dari dusun di Yaring menguraikan bahwa kalau para militan benar-benar ingin membakar sekolah-sekolah, mereka bisa membakar sebuah sekolah setiap hari. Tatapi karena pembakaran merupakan simbol saja, maka mereka memilih membakar sekolah yang terletak dekat dengan jalan dan dapat dicapai dengan mudah, yang lebih bahaya daripada pembakaran sekolah yang terpencil yang jauh dari petugas negeri (catatan dari sebuah pembicaraan antara akademisi dengan orang desa, dalam Srisakra, hlm. 29).

Berkenaan dengan ideologi dan organisasi rakyat kecil ini ada kecenderungan dari mereka untuk tidak memikirkannya dalam pemikiran idelogis yang kompleks. Pikiran mereka diperoleh dari prinsip agama populer tetapi tidak begitu berhubungan dengan organisasi-organisasi agama. Jadi kepercayaan agama yang mereka miliki bukanlah agama yang diajarkan oleh ahli agama, seperti halnya pada“pemberontakan petani” yang dipimpin oleh tokoh agama, seperti Chao Phra Fang yang diikuti oleh jatuhnya Ayuthaya pada tahun 1767, pemimpin sering mengambil pratik agama yang menyimpang dari kebiasaan yang berbeda norma agama yang diakui oleh organisasi agama; misalnya dikatakan bahwa Chao Phra Fang berjubah merah. Pada waktu yang sama pemimpin-pemimpin bertergantung pada kekuatan kegaiban, yang bersesuaian dengan karakteristik pemberontakan petani yang cenderung tergantung atas kharisma pribadi pemimpin. Contohnya, dalam “pemberontakan Orang Suci” pada kekuasaan Raja Chulalongkorn, pemimpin kebanyakan adalah bekas biksu yang mempergunakan masa kehidupannya dalam biara dan bisa menyelenggarakan tindakan keajaiban, misalnya menaruh tangan mereka dalam minyak mendidih, dan lain sebagainya. Kepercayaan serupa itu juga bersesuaian dengan senjata-senjata kaum pemberontak yang terbatas. Kebanyakan senjata yang dipakai mereka adalah alat pertanian yang tersedia dengan mudah.

Karena pemberontakan adalah reaksi terhadap perubahan yang tidak menyenangkan, contohnya penggantian dari jenis pajak berupa produksi atau jasa ke pajak moneter, atau pengeluaran petani dari penggunaan sumber alam yang yang pada masa lampaunya mereka bisa menggunakannya secara bebas, misalnya pelarangan memotong kayu di hutan, ideologi pemberontakan seributahunan sering menberi harapan tentang sebuah negara ide atau khayalan yang akan datang di mana semua orang sama, antara lelaki atau perempuan pun tidak berbeda, atau di mana yang tidak ada harta pribadi. Idealisme seperti ini seringkali terdapat di dalam ide komunitas pertanian kecil yang terbiasa dan secara mudah memahami kaum “miskin” pada umumnya.

Dan karena pemerontakan seributahunan berasal dari rakyat kecil yang tidak menikmati jalur politik yang penting, gerakan ini seringkali tidak berhubungan dengan elit tradisional. Misalnya, mereka tidak berhubungan dengan pemimpin institusi agama, kaum terpelajar, pemimpin politik lokal, pegawai negeri, atau kapitalis. (Bagaimanapun mereka mungkin menerima dukungan secara diam-diam dari pihak tertentu yang mendapat kepentingan dari pemberotakan seributahunan supaya mendapat kekuasaan dan pengaruh; misalnya dipercayai bahwa pemberontakan Ngiaw di Phrae didukung diam-diam oleh beberapa pemimpin local). Ketiiadaan elit tradisi berarti membuat peluang untuk pelawanan menjadi terbatas, tidak hanya dalam term geografi saja tapi dalam term politik juga, media massa, akademi, agama, pendidikan, dan ekonomi juga. Kebanyakan kasus, peluang untuk perjuangan sudah ditutup sama sekali. Satu-satunya yang masih tinggal untuk mereka adalah melawan kewibawaan. Kalau provokasi ini ditaklukkan oleh pemerintah akan terjadi konflik yang bersenjata sebagai balasan.

Penulis percaya bahwa kita hanya bisa menjelaskan gerakan sosial berskala besar di Thailand Selatan adalah dengan melihatnya sebagaipemeberontakan seributahunan. Perbedaan antara contoh dari abad kesembilanbelas dengan yang sekarang adalah perubahan dalam konteks dunia yang dikatakan di atas. Misalnya, beberapa berita mengatakan bahwa signal yang diberikan untuk mengawali operasi pada tanggal 28th April 2004 adalah acara radio lokal yang populer seluruh Thailand Selatan bagian bawah. Pengololaan organisasi sekarang lebih efisien daripada pemberontakan seributahunan pada abad kesembilanbelas, tetapi perbedaan itu hanya disebabkan oleh teknologi komunikasi moderen.

Hubungan yang berada antara kaum militan dan elit tradisional, apakah mereka itu adalah toh khru, imam, politikus lokal, atau organisasi anti pemerintah, agak bersifat permukaan, atau setidaknya hubungan yang lebih mendalam belum dibuktikan.[6] Jadi perkumpulan gerakan ini dengan sejarah yang panjang dari “pemberontakan” negara Pattani yang tejadi pada abad lalu tidak membantu menjelaskan apa-apa. Sebenarnya, gerakan sekarang ini merupakan representasi pematahan dari gerakan politik dahulu yang dipimpin oleh elit tradisi, baik keturunan keluarga raja, toh imam, atau politikus lokal pun (yang terada dalam kaum elit dalam masyarakat Thai, atau dengan kata lain, mereka adalah kelompok yang mendapat keuntungan dalam masyakat Thai…mencoba melihat latar belakang Wan Muhammad Noor Matha, Den Tohmeena, Aripen Uttarasin, dll. Mereka telah “menginvestasi” secara mendalam dalam sistem sosial Thai, dan pada waktu yang sama sudah mengambil “keuntungan” besar juga dari itu, sama dengan orang yang bisa memberikan waktunya untuk belajar agama dan menjadi toh khru atau toh imam, yang di banyak tempat dipertahankan bagi keluarga tertentu, atau sama dengan orang yang pergi ke Mekah untuk naik haji dan kembali menjadi sehorang Haji). Makanya sangat sulit untuk elit-elit ini – dua-duanya elit tradisi dan elit baru yang muncul dari perubahan moderen –untuk melibatkan diri dalam gerakan sosial yang tidak bertujuan dan tatacara yang jelas untuk mencapai keberhasilan. Lebih dari itu, apa yang bisa dikatakan sebagai tujuan pergerakan juga bukan kepentingan mereka, malahan mungkin bertentangan dengan kepentingan mereka sendiri.

Bagaimanapun, ini tidak berarti bahwa orang dusun tidak memiliki pengetahuan sejarah yang akan mengkaitkannya dengan gerakan di masa lalu. Orang dusun mempunyai versi sejarah Pattani sendiri dalam ingatan mereka. Orang desa di desa Datoh masih ingat makam yang dikelilingi oleh pagar di makam Yaring milik Pemimpin Pattani dan keluarganya. Mereka ingat bahwa pemimin ini dahulu adalah raja Trengganu yang menduduki Pattani tapi diserang dan dikalahkan oleh pasukan Thai. Demikian pula tidak ada siapa pun yang membawa mayatnya kembali untuk dibumikan di makam ini, dan tidak ada siapa pun yang pernah berkunjung ke kuburan ini juga (Srisakra, hlm.19-20). Tetapi yang sudah dikatakan di atas, gerakan ini adalah pemberontakan seributahunan, jadi bukan pergerakan yang diteruskan dari perjuangan terhadap negeri Thai oleh elit tradisi pada masa lalu.

Jika ada beberapa hubungan antara gerakan ini dengan masa lalu, kemungkinan adalah peristiwa Duson Nyoir incident pada tahun 1948.

Penulis tidak mengetahui bahwa apakah pilihan tanggal 28th April sebagai hari kaum militant yang secara sengaja diputuskan secara bertepatan dengan pemberontaan Duson Nyoir atau tidak. Kalau sengaja, lebih menyakinkan demonstrasi itu memang “pemberontakan seributahunan”, karena peristiwa Duson Nyoir adalah pemberontakan yang memiliki karakter tersebut yang asli dan nyata. Dimulai dari orang desa melatih upacara keajaiban untuk melawan bandit Cina Melayu yang merompak makanan komunitasnya. Tetapi petugas negara mencuriga perilakunya, orang desa menjdi marah dan akhirnya terjadi perlawanan dan[7] dengan keinginan mengurangi kewibawaan negara dari komunitasnya. Dalam hal ini, tidak terlihat bahwa mereka memiliki tujuan politik yang jelas.

Demikian, kalau para militan ingin mengkaitkan gerakannya dengan pemberontakan Duson Nyoir itu adalah hal yang menarik sekali, karena salah satu pergerakan kaum militan yang harus memperhatikan bahwa hubungan dengan mereka adalah pemberontakan seributahunan yang terkenal.

Bagaimanapun, pemerontakan seributahunan adalah gerakan rakyat kecil tingkat bawah, tidak berarti rakyat lain tidak akan ikut campur tangan untuk memainkan perannya dalam gerakan supaya mendapat kepentingan (seperti dikatakan di atas). Organisasi-organisasi anti pemerintah yang telah ada seperti PULO atau BRN pasti ingin menghubungkan dirinya dengan gerakan ini (tetapi seperti dikatankan di atas, penulis merasa bahwa hubungn ini tidak begitu akrab). Persaingan antara politikus lokal juga membawa orang lain untuk ikut campur dalam kepentingan politik. Meskipun begini, penulis masih menegaskan bahwa jantung dari gerakan adalah rakyat kecil rendahan, sementara pihak lain hanya menigikut di garis tepi.

Faktor-faktor yang Menyumbang “Pemberontakan Kaum Miskin”

Sebenarnya, lebih dari satu dasawarsa terakhir, tiga atau empat provinsi di Thailand Selatan bagian bawah mengalami perubahan besar. Kita boleh berkesimpulan bahwa perubahan-perubahan ini sebagai akibat dari perluasan kapital nasional (yang berhubungan dengan kapital transnasional) yang mengakibatkan perebutan sumber alam dariorang-orang desa, beberapa orang tidak bisa menyesuaikan dirinya dengan perubahan-perubahan ini. Penulis akan mencontohkan pengalaman Ajan Srisakra Vallibotama yang ada di Teluk Pattani, yang mendemonstrasikan perubahan-perubahan ini dengan jelas.

“Pada sepuluh tahun yang lalu saya dapat menyaksikan… perubahan ekonomi dan social dari Bangpu sampai Panareh dan Yaring. Perubahan internal termasuk penggunaan perkebunan kelapa yang dekat laut untuk tempat peternakan udang. Perubahan yang dipengaruhi oleh faktor luar merupakan warga desa yang melakukan demonstrasi terhadap konvoi kapal pukat ikan besar. Menurut orang desa konvoi kapal pukat ikan disertai oleh kapal penelitian perikanan milik departemen perikanan. Kapal pukat ikan dengan jala dorong milik kapitalis dalam industri expor ikan menyapu bersih kerang-kerang. Kapal pukat ikan ini bisa menangkap kerang-kerang sepuluhan ton per hari, dan letah menghancurkan bermacam-macam binatang laut yang berbeda. Pada waktu itu nelayan lokal memakai kapal lokal koleh bisa menangkap ikan-ikan paling banyak hanya 12 kilogram per hari.”[8]

Kini konvoi kapal pukat ikan besar milik kapitalis luar telah menghancurkan ikan-ikan dan sumber alam laut di teluk Pattani. Respon balik orang desa terhadap kemerosotan ekosistem ini sangat terbatas, dan beberapa kasus bahkan mempercepat kehancuran proses kemerosotan ini. Srisakra menyatakan perubahan yang terjadi di teluk Pattani bahwa:

“3 atau 4 tahun yang lalu ketika saya kembali ke Panareh, warga desa terpaksa menangkap ikan lebih banyak; dari 12 kilogram dahulu menjadi 20-30 kilogram per hari. Pantai yang dahulu bersih menjadi kotor dari sampah-sampah, ikan, kepiting dan kerang terbusuk (berarti oramg punya waktu sedikit untuk keprihatian umum). Peternakan udang telah menggusur perkebunan kelapa. Ini adalah perubahan internal yang telah terjadi di dalam respon terhadap perubahan external.”[9]

Kapitalis dair luar semakin datang dan mencari kesempatan di daerah Pattani. Penulis pernah lihat anak perempuan keluarga Muslim di desa Rusamilae yang harus keluar dari rumah sejak jam 2 pagi. Sebuah mobil menjemput dia untuk kerja menyorti ikan di dermaga yang ikan didarat dan dilelang setiap hari. Dia harus bekerja dengan para buruh lelaki yang mengangkat bakul ikan dari kapal, yang bertentangan dengan adat setempat yang menanggap perempuan sebagai kehormatan keluarga. Para nelayan harus berhutang meminjam uang untuk pasang mesin untuk kapal koleh; karena tidak ada ikan yang tersisal untuk ditankap lagi, jadi mereka harus melaut lebih jauh. Dan karena mereka berhutang banyak jadi harus menangkap ikan lebih banyak juga, yang berarti perlu punya mesin yang lebih besar dan lebih kuat, mengakibatkan pola berhutang tiada barakhir. Sementara itu, perempuan juga bekerja di dalam kapal tangkap ikan di laut, padahal adat tradisi melarang perempuan menginjak kaki dalam kepal koleh sama sekali.

Hibungan sosial dalam komunikasi juga berubah, dari pola yang saling menguntungkan satu sama lain ke pola hubungan antara kapitalis dan buruh. Srisakra mengatakan bahwa hubungan yang telah berubah merupakan upaya untuk memperoleh keuntungan dan eksploitasi semata. Para kapitalis dari luar yang menginvestasikan modalnya di desa pada dasarnya berbeda dengan kapitalis lokal yang merupakan warga desa yang mana mereka telah terbiasa, karena hubungan mereka didasarkan pada fungsi pekerjaan semata, dan kapitalis yang tinggal jauh bahkan tidak pernah sekali pun datang ke desa tersebut. Warga desa di Chana (Songkhla) tidak pernah bisa mengundingkan dengan pemilik pabrik yang membuang air kotor di sawah mereka. Sama deangan warga desa yang mempunyai tanah penanian di sebelah tempat peternakan udang yang juga terpaksa berhenti dari pekerjaannya. Tentu saja, tuntutan ke bagian pemerintahan tidak menghasilkan apa-apa; gossip dan caci-maki (hinaan), yang dulu adalah cara paling berhasil untuk mengontrol sosial, telah semakin tidak ada artinya lagi sekarang.

Penulis tidak ada informasi tentang penginvestasian dalam kebun karet oleh kapitalis dari luar atau industri yang lain dari luar tiga provinsi selatan ini, tetapi saya dengar dari rakyat setempat bahwa ada cukup banyak juga. Jadi di mana-mana mereka berpaling mereka akan menemui orang yang mereka tidak bisa membangun hubungan kekuasaan yang setara, dua-duanya penduduk lokal yang menjadi kapitalis baru dan kapitalis dar luar. Pada waktu yang sama warga desa semakin kurang kemampuannya dalam memakai sumber alam. Mereka terpaksa menjual harta pribadi dan menjadikan dirinya sebagai buruh yang dapat upah, yang menyebabkan kesulitan bagi mereka untuk melestarikan budaya tradisionalnya yang berakar atas struktur ekonomi dan sosial yang berbeda.

Jadi apa yang dialami rakyat kecil di provinsi Selatan bagian bawah selama beberapa dasawarsa belakangan ini adalah kemiskinan dalam semua bidang. Mereka tidak bisa Tsecara berhasil merespon terhadap perubahan yang selalu menggangu dan membenai mereka secara luar biasa. Sumber terakhir yang mereka melihat adalah sistem pendidikan , tetapi jalan ini tidak begitu terbuka untuk mereka. Salah seorang warga desa di kebupaten Yaring mengatakan bahwa sekarang banyak orang Muslim yang ingin belajar tetapi tidak ada tempat bagi mereka. Mereka percaya bahwa Universitas Prince of Songkhla di Pattani tidak menyediakan jatah untuk pelajar lokal seperti unvisitas-universitas lain (sebenarnya, Universitas Prince of Songkhla di Pattani menyediakan jatah juga, tetapi sama dengan universtitas-universitas daerah lain yang hanya memperhatikan kepada perimbangan jatah, daripada perbedaan antara pelajar dari daerah dan pelajar dari kota). Beberapa orang desa menanyakan bahwa bagaimana pelajar yang tidak lancar bahasa Thai bisa bersaing dengan pelajar Thai kalau universitas memakai standar yang sama untuk syarat masuknya.

Jadi meskipun mereka berusaha menyesuaikan dirinya dengan sistem kapitalis, tetap saja tidak ada peluang untuk mereka. Tidak ada masa depan untuk mereka karena mereka tidak tahu bagaimana cara hidup dalam perubahan yang mereka tidak dapat menimpalinya.

Sebenarnya, nasib ini tidak hanya terjadi pada orang Muslim Melayu saja tetapi terjadi pada rakyat kecil di daerah lain juga. Tetapi disebabkan banyak alasan yang penulis tidak akan ucapkan sekarang (misalnya masalah identitas, atau walaupun mereka mempunyai perasaan pengasingan identitas yang sama, tetapi ada fakor lain yang membatasi pilihan mereka yang lain) rakyat kecil di daerah lain memilih memperjuangkan dalam sistem politik, misalnya Forum Pemikin, Forum Orang Suku, dan lain sebagainya, sedangkan orang Muslim Melayu memilih memperjuangkan di luar sistem.

“Pemberontakan Kaum Miskin” dalam Negeri Moderen

Dalam negeri tradisi pemberontakanseributahunan benar-benar bisa menghancurkan negeri, atau dalam kasus-kasus paling sedikit menggoncangkan dasar-dasar kenegaraan. Contohnya, pemberontakan Tayson di Vietnam yang berhasil merobohkan dinasti Le dan mendirikan rezim politik yang alternatif (bisa dikatakan rezim revolusi) di atas Vietnam untuk periode waktu tertentu sebelum ditaklukkan oleh keluarga Nguyen atau dinasti Gia Long. Di Cina, pemberontakan Taiping menggoncangkan kekuasaan dinasti Ch’ing sampai ke inti kekuasaan dan menduduki hampir setengah Cina sebelum dibubarkan. Chu Yuan-chang, pendiri dinasti Ming, sebenarnya pemimpin pemborontakan seributahunan, tetapi dapat dukungan dari para cendekiawan Cina jadi bisa mendirikan dinasti baru memerintah Cina dengan system dahulu.

Akan tetapi, di dalam konteks negara moderen pemborontakanseributahunan hanya menjadi gangguan kecil saja. Karena kekuatan militan dibatasi dalam daerah yang terbatas sedangkan Negara menjadi lebih kuat yang disebabkan baik oleh manjemen maupun teknologi kentaraan yang canggih. Selain itu kondisi social di negeri moderen juga berkarakter lebih komplek. Kepentingan kuam petani mungkin berlawanan dengan kepentingan kelompok lain, walaupun mungkin bukan mayoritas, tetapi jumlahnya cukup besar dan lebih menguasai kekuatan politik dan berpengaruh secara sosial daripada kaum petani (misalnya keles menengah atau kelas bawah yang berkesempatan mingingtkat ke atas). pemborontakan seributahunan semakin dibatasi dalam perihal ruang sosial. Lagi pula, politik di negara moderen membuka peluang bagi mereka yang memiliki uang, berpendidikan atau memiliki keahlihan dalam manajemen (jelas sekali bukan “kaum miskin”) yang bisa memperundingkan dengan orde yang ada.

Bahkan negara Siam yang mutlak (absolutist) pun mengalami tranformasi menjadi negara moderen pada akhir abad kesembilanbelas juga pernah menghadapi pemborontakan seributahunan yang terjadi seluruh negeri dengan tingkat kesulitan yang tidak berarti dengan mendirikan angkatan bersenjata yang baru untuk menindas pemborontak secara meyakinkan. Lebih dari itu, mereka mempunyai kecakapan untuk memelihara kebijakan yang telah menyebabkan ketidakpuasan diantara orang-orang miskin (peasants) bahkan mereka harus menunda pelaksanaan dari kebijakan yang ada di beberapa wilayah.

Kesenjangan dalam ideologi yang canggih yang bisa menyatu dengan tindakan sosial dari kelompok lain telah menjadikannya terisolasi dari gerakan seributahunan. Di Thailand, pemborontakan seributahunan di Timurlaut pada akhir abad kesembilanbelas direpresentasikan sebagai sebuah gerakan untuk kepentingan pemimpin sendiri, phi bun [“Sang Suci” – trans.], sedangkan penderitaan para petani diabaikan begitu saja dan dillupakan oleh masyarakat.

Oleh karena itu, tidak ada pemborontakan seributahunan satu pun yang bisa mengancam negeri pemerintah secara serius.

Dalam kasus Thailand selatan dewasa ini, di dalam analisis yang terakhir aksi militan tidak mungkin akan bisa mempengaruhi intergrasi teritorial negara (meskipun pemerintah kurang memiliki kemampuan untuk mengelola situasi dan melakukan pebunuhan berdarah). Meskipun demikian, kemungkinan yang permanen terhadap penyelesaian masalah yang damai untuk konflik di Selatan tidak hanya tergantung pada kegaitan-kegiatan para militan saja. Sementara pemborontakan itu sendiri tidaklah susah untuk dihancurkan, para “kaum miskin” yang dipengaruhi dari perebutan sumber alam akan bergabung dengan kelompok-kelompok anti negara lain yang bukan pemborontakan seributahunan seperti banyak “kaum miskin” di Thailand yang pernah bergabung dengan Partai Kommunis Thailand. Atau, penderitaan “kaum miskin” mungkin menunjuk ke kekacauan dalam bentuk lain yang bukan teroris atau serangan terhadap pegawai negeri.

Perlu dikatakan bahwa negara moderen, tertama negeri sedang berkembang seperti Thailand, selalu menggunakan kekerasan dan kadang-kadang kejam dan biadab dalam menindas pemborontakan seributahunan. Karena susah untuk negeri sedang berkembang akan memahami mentalitas para “kaum miskin” yang memberontak. Mereka berbeda dalam suku bangsa, agama, budaya, atau bahasa (misalnya orang Moro di Filipina, orng Indian di Mexico, pribumi di Sarawak, orang Muslim Melayu di Thailand selatan, Cham di Vietnam, Rohingya di wilayah Arakan di Myanmar, dll). Tetapi perbedaan yang lebih penting adalah ideologi. Pemborontakan seributahunan biasanya selalu melawan untuk mempertahankan pola pemakaian sumber alam tradisional. Mereka menentang hukum yang membolehkan orang dari luar menggunakan sumber alam dari komunitas mereka, atau hukum yang melarang orang desa memperoleh sumber-sumber alam itu, atau kebijaksanaan yang menjadikan penggunaan sumber alam tradisional dari orang desa menjadi rugi atau menjadi tindak pidana. Padahal para “kaum miskin” membutuhkan pemakaian sumber alam yang beraneka, negara sedang berkembang ingin kesatuan pemakainnya (supaya bisa menentukan prioritas, contohnya, antara nelayan dan pembangunan bendung atau pipa gas). “kaum miskin” lebih suka pembagian sumber alam kepada rakyat yang beda menggunakan menurut ketrampilan istimewa mereka, sedangkan negara sedang berkembang ingin pemakaian yang tersentralisasi untuk “memaksimalkan” keperluan mereka guna memdapatkan penghasilan negara. Jadi permintaan para “kaum miskin” langsung berlawanan dengan model “pembangunan”. Tidak mungkin negara sedang berkembang akan berkompromi dengan mereka karena sama dengan menghancurkan legitimasi negara sedang berkembang itu sendiri.

Perbedaan-perbedaan tatacara membuat negara moderen – terutama negeri sedang berkembang – tidak melihat pemberontakan seributahunan secara manusiawi. Ini tidaklah mungkin untuk menerangkan bahwa mereka adalah orang yang terbelakang yang dituntun ke dunia moderen (pembangunan) yang penting bagi legitimasi negara, karena “mereka” adalah pemberontak; mereka tidak bisa dibeli, mereka tidak bisa dipikat, dan mereka tidak mau menerima ganti rugian atas berbagai kerugian mereka. Jadi mereka harus diganyang, dan cara paling mudah (tapi mungkin paling gagal) untuk mengganyang mereka adalah memusnahkan mereka. Lebih dari sepuluh ribu pemberontak Zapatista (yang kebanyakan memakai arit, pisau dan kapak kayu, sama dengan para militan pada tanggal 28 April) dibunuh oleh pemerintah Meksiko. Penulis merasa bahwa menjadi komunis dapat penghormatan sebagai “musuh” negeri lebih tinggi daripada para “pemberontakan petani”.

Apa Jalan Keluar yang Damai?

Siapa saja setuju bahwa kita sebaiknya memecahkan masalah dengan “cara damai”. Tetapi isilah ini maksudnya lebih jauh dari sekedar untuk tidak membunuh rakyatdengan senjata; tetapi seharusnya memasukkan penghentian semua kekerasan sama sekali. Pendapat penulis, kekurangan “perdamaian” di Selatan disebabkan kebijakan pembangunan pemerintah yang membolehkan penetrasi kapital yang merefek pada peniadaan rakyat kecil dari sumber-sumber alam, sedangkan negara tidak ada kemampuan maupun keinginan untuk mengontrol situasi dan menghasilkan cara pemecahan yang adil. Pada waktu yang sama tidak memberikan peluang (dalam pelaksanaannya) untuk membantu rakyat kecil menyesuaikan sedikit demi sedikti dan membangun kemampuan-kemampuan yang akan membolehkan mereka bertanding dalam pasar kapitalis tanpa kerugian pihak lain.

Semu faktor ini merupakan kekerasan dan jauh lebih dari artinya “damai” sejati.

Penulis sepenuhnya menyetujui saran-saran lain (seperti saran dari Wakil Perdana Menteri Chaturon Chaisaeng) untuk mengurangi perasaan saling mencurigai dengan menjamin keadilan yang dipergunakan lewat hukum, dan memupus agen negara yang bertanggung jawab untuk menciptakan kondisi rasa saling benci. Tetapi semua ini belum cukup, karena kekerasan tidak akan dihapuskan hingga kebijaksanaan pembangunan akan diperbaiki supaya sampai sunggu-sungguh mencapai keadilan.

Penulis berharap karangan ini akan membantu masyarakat umum melihat masalah di Selatan yang kompleks lebih jelas dan bergabung untuk mendorong terjadinya perubahan kebijakan pembangunan yang tidak adil. Tetapi penulis ada harapan yang kecil sekali saja, karena ini terkenal sebagai isu besar yang menmpengaruhi kepentingan kebanyakan para kapitalis yang memiliki kekuatan politik pada saat ini. Jika melihat media atau kaum menengah, yang posisinya paling bisa menekan pemerintah, mereka malahan menjadi pengikut dengan cara yang membuta terhadap kepimpinan negeri tentang kebijakan pembangunan. Jadi kematian rakyat hanya menjadi barang perdagangan untuk penukaran antara petugas keamanaan dan “pemberontak petani”, merupakan rekor angka ketika menjebolkan gol dalam pertandingan sepak bola.

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[1] Yang dimaksud dengan “peasant” (chaona) dalam hal ini saya tidak hanya bermaksud petani kecil yang subsisten, tetapi orang kecil (kaum miskin) lainnya dari berbagai jenis pekerjaan, seperti penambang, penyadap getah karet, pembuat arang kayu dan lain sebagainya. Kendati demikian akademisi cenderung untuk merujuk gerakan sosial dari kondisi alamiahnya sebagai “peasant rebellion”agar sesuai dengan konteks masyarakat Thai.

Saya juga bermaksud untuk memperingatkan pembaca bahwa informasi yang telah saya akses mengenai situasi di Thailand Selatan sebagian besar sulit untuk dipercaya. Pemerintah telah dengan sengaja mengelabuhi masyarakat atau menutup-nutupi fakta-fakta yang terjadi, atau tidak benar-benar menetahui situasi yang sesungguhnya, dan demikian pula dengan pihak yang berseberangan dengannya. Media massa juga tidak melakukan pekerjaan rumahnya secara meneyeluruh dan mencukupi. Sebagian dari masalah mengenai informasi yang tidak tersedia, secara sederhana sangatlah sedikit semenjak hampir semua perhatian telah terfokus hanya pada kejadian yang sebenarnya secara teliti.

[2] PULO adalah akronim dari i Pattani United Liberation Organization; BRN adalah Barisan Rakyat Nasional (People National Front); Permuda Bersatu (United Front for the Independence of Pattani).

[3] Sebuah surat kabar Swedia telah memaparkan sebuah wawancara dengan Samsuddin Khan, anggota senior dari organisasi PULO yang sekarang ini tinggal di negeri pengasingan di Swedia, yang mengaku bahwa organisasinya bertanggungjawab atas penyerangan yang terjadi pada tanggal 28 April 2004, meskipun demikian berdasarkan Komandan Angkatan bersenjata Wilayah IV menyatakan bahwa pengakuan tersebut tidaklah bisa dipercaya. (Bangkok Post, 13 May 2004).

[4] Translated from account by villagers, cited in “Khrongkan sueksa kanplianplang thang sangkhom lae watthanatham koranisueksa bandato lae ban phumi amphor yaring changwat pattani” [A Research Project on Social and Cultural Change, a case study of Bandato and Banphumi, Amphor Jering, Pattani], a villager-researcher training project coordinated by Srisakara Vallibhotama, p.32.

[5] Empat orang yang berparticipasi dalam operasi tanggal 28 April 2004 dan telah menyerahkan diri mereka ke gubernur di profinsi yala mengakui bahwa ketika diinterograsi oleh angkatan bersenjata wilayah IV bahwa sebelum melalukan operasi mereka diberikan air suci setelah sembayah malam pada tanggal 27 April 2004. Setelah minum air suci, mereka diberitahu bahwa mereka tidak akan terlihat oleh polisi (Bangkok Post, 13 May 2004).

[6] Di dalam laporan militer kejadian itu dipercaya bahwa tanggal 28 April 2004 dikomandani oleh organisasi sepratis baru, bernama Pemuda Bersatu (Youth Unity). Tetapi ini tidaklah jelas apakah organi bari itu merupakan bagian dari jaringan bayangan yang terdiri dari beberapa orghanisasi yang ada atau ini merupakan sebuah kelompok baru yang beroperasi secara mandiri. Komandan Angkatan bersenjata wilayah IV curiga bahwa organisasi baru ini tidaklah memiliki kaitan dengan organisasi terdahulu (Bangkok Post, 13 May 2004).

[7] Lihat laporan Thanawat Chae-un, Matichon, 5 May 2004, yang sementara membedakan secara teliti dari penelitian akademik secara konsisten dengan pikiran utamanya..

[8] Pidato Srisakra’s speech, “Kha ma, Kha hen, Kha khaochai: Pattani kab khwam lalang thang watthanatham thi yang thamrong khwam pen manut” [Saya Datang, Saya Lihat, Saya Paham: patani dan ketebelakangan Budaya yang menjaga rasa kemanusiaan], hlm.5.

[9] “Khrongkan sueksa kanplianplang thang sangkhom lae watthanatham,” hlm.5-6.

from Kyoto Review

Yunnanese Muslims along the Northern Thai Border

2007-06-16T01:12:00.000-07:00

Wang Liulan

In the northern reaches of the modern Thai nation-state, along the borders of Myanmar and Laos, people have been on the move since ancient times following seasonal migration routes, pursuing trade, and making new settlements. One group that has put down roots in Thailand garners much less attention from outsiders than the tribal minorities with colorful native garments. These are the Yunnanese Muslims, called “Ho” or “Chin Ho” in Thai.

Although the meaning and etymology of the term is not clear, historians have always understood the Ho to be caravanners who used horses and mules to cross into Thailand from Yunnan. For example, the histories of the Lua people, who already occupied northern Thailand, report that Ho caravans came to their village in the early seventeenth century, that their horses died while in the village, and that their demand for compensation was reported to the king.

In the nineteenth century, Ho caravans coming to Thailand from Yunnan increased in number, and their details were recorded by Western travelers and missionaries who were also moving around the region. Ho caravans traveled to and from Yunnan, Burma, Laos, and northern Thailand, with only a few traders settling along the way. They journeyed south to Thailand once or twice a year, normally in the dry season, bringing hand-woven cottons, felts, silks, medicines, and daily goods from Yunnan and returning home with ivory and traditional medicines, such as pilose antlers (Antrodia), tiger and leopard skins and bones, and bear livers. From Burma they brought opium poppies, a valuable trading commodity.

Yunnanese Muslim Traders in Early Twentieth Century Thailand

It is thought that Yunnanese Muslims first settled in what is now northern Thailand in the late nineteenth or early twentieth centuries. Although most of them went back to China as merchants, some of them started to settle in the area. As their numbers gradually increased, families gathered to form communities. Currently, the greatest number of Yunnanese mosques are in the districts of Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai, and Mae Hong Son, with some in Lampang. As of 1997, the mosques had become the centers of Yunnanese Muslim communities of approximately 250 households (1,500 people).

The Baan Ho mosque, the oldest in Chiang Mai City, is today the heart of the Yunnanese Muslim community. It was established in the early twentieth century by a trader called Zheng who hailed from Yuxi in Yunnan province. Zheng left Yunnan and passed through Kengtung in Burma, Lampang, Tak (where he married a local Thai woman), Lamphun, and Mae Sai, along the Thai-Burmese border. In 1905, he migrated to Chiang Mai City.

The Yunnanese Muslims at that time had strong links with Thai society, and stories of Zheng’s connections and activities, in particular, have been handed down to later generations. The Thai woman Zheng married was said to be related to the Thai prime minister. In 1920, Zheng’s links with local Thai businesses allowed him to help subcontract the transport of materials by horse for the construction of a railroad in Lamphun. He ran the postal service. And it is said that he provided a camp of approximately 100 rai (1,600 km2) to be used for grazing horses at the time of the construction of Chiang Mai’s airport. For these contributions to Thai society, Zheng received the order of merit of “Khun” and took the Thai surname “Woenglukiaet.”

1950 to 1970: From “Traders” to “Refugees”

Throughout the latter half of the twentieth century, many Yunnanese Muslims migrated to Thailand from China via Myanmar, and the community of the Baan Ho mosque also increased rapidly. Most spent their youth and young adulthood in China and fled to escape the political turmoil of war with Japan, civil war, and the establishment of the People’s Republic of China. Some of them suffered oppression and torture at the hands of the Communist Party both before and after 1949.

In Myanmar, nearly all Muslim refugees were caught up in the military activities of the Kuomintang (KMT) forces driven out of China after their defeat. In the 1950s, KMT forces, mainly composed of Han (non-Muslim) Yunnanese, set up military camps in Myanmar to fight against Communist rule in China. They recruited the civilian refugees as soldiers or porters to carry food and military equipment. When the government of Myanmar tried to push the KMT out of its territory, the civilian refugees from Yunnan were caught in the middle.

KMT forces were expelled by the Myanmar government across the border into Thailand in 1961. In fact, some KMT forces and civilian refugees had already moved south into Thailand in the 1950s. Eventually, more than seventy villages were built by KMT soldiers and civilian refugees, including Yunnanese Muslims, along the northern Thai border.

The circumstances of fleeing from China to Thailand are clearly different for each individual, but here is the story of Mr. Ma, a typical refugee.

Mr. Ma was born in 1919, in Najiaying village in the Tonghai District of Yunnan Province. Mr. Ma’s family had been merchants for generations who traded using horses and mules. When Mr. Ma was twelve years old, he accompanied his brother, who was seven years older, on a trading venture to Kyaing Tong in Myanmar. The brothers were accompanied by two servants and ten horses and mules. For the next eight years, Mr. Ma lived in Kyaing Tong. During that time, he continued to trade, traveling from Kyaing Tong to Menghai in Xishuangbanna, without returning even once to his home in Najiaying village. After eight years, he returned home to take a wife and afterwards began trading separately from his brother.

In the latter half of the 1940s, China was plunged into civil war, and the land was desolated. Mr. Ma was unable to pursue his commercial activities and felt he had lost any prospects for a good future. He left China in August 1949, just ahead of the establishment of Communist rule. He was 30 years old. Leaving his wife and three daughters behind, he struck out for Kyaing Tong in Myanmar. His elder brother left their farming village a year later, but did not go to Myanmar. Instead, he moved to Menghai in Xishuangbanna, where he lived for the rest of his life.

Mr. Ma took five horses with him when he left China, and he used them to conduct trade mostly between Tanyan and Tachilek on the Myanmar/Thai border. While he was living in Myanmar in this way, the Kuomintang was defeated and its armies moved south. Mr. Ma is said to have encountered the Chinese nationalist armies in Tanyan. The situation in Myanmar had also changed drastically, and trade could no longer be continued in the way that it always had. The Myanmar army attacked not only the KMT, but also the traders who had moved there from Yunnan. Therefore, with his own safety in mind, Mr. Ma fled to northern Thailand in early 1950. At the time, Mr. Ma was deeply pained by the realization that he could never return to China. In northern Thailand, he first traveled to Doi Angkhang, just over the border from Myanmar. He spent the next three to four years in a refugee camp for Yunnanese Muslims and ethnic Han Chinese called Baan Yang, in Amphoe Fang, Chiang Mai Province, after which he traveled south to Chiang Mai City.

At the beginning of his life in Thailand, he was categorized as a “refugee” by the Thai government. He was not allowed to obtain Thai citizenship and was forced to carry “proof of refugee status.” With no nationality, he was unable to get voting rights or a local commercial license. Moreover, he was forbidden from traveling freely within Thailand and was only authorized to travel outside of the administrative region in which he lived conditionally, and only upon written request.

From “Refugee” to “Muslim”: Problems and Prospects

In this way, the majority of Yunnanese Muslims living in northern Thailand are “refugees” trapped in a nation-state framework, rather than “traders” traveling freely between regions, as they did earlier. At present, there are estimated to be about 80,000 Yunnanese living in northern Thailand, of whom about 10,000 are Muslim. But citizenship for the Yunnanese – whether Han or Muslim – seems nowhere near. Some trade illegally across the Thai border and use the money to purchase citizenship and so escape from refugee status. There are still many Yunnanese Han and Muslims living in the mountains without nationality.

In the 1970s, the Thai government started development programs to improve the harsh economic circumstances of Yunnanese refugees in mountain areas. These projects include vegetable, tea, plant cultivation, and so on. Thai schools were also built to educate second generation Yunnanese. At the same time, the Taiwanese government started to pay financial support to the refugee camps in the mountains, including those with Yunnanese Muslims. Among other things, it supports infrastructure, such as roads and water supplies, and builds Chinese schools.

For religious activities, however, especially for Muslims, the Thai and Taiwanese government offer little support. Therefore, Yunnanese Muslims who became wealthy from trade started to build mosques for the poorer communities. Five mosques were completed in the 1970s and 1980s in the refugee camps clustered in northern Chiang Mai District. Around the same time, Yunnanese Muslims started to expand their religious networks with Muslim communities outside Thailand. As a result, the first Islamic school in northern Thailand was built in Chiang Mai City by Yunnanese Muslims with funds from Saudi Muslims in 1972.

The Yunnanese Muslims are now facing their fiftieth anniversary in Thailand. What forces will shape their community in Thai society in the future? How resurgent will be their Islamic faith? As a religious minority, how will Thai society regard them? In order to understand the relationship between the state, ethnic groups, and religions, these questions present significant issues for research.

Wang Liulan is a research associate at the Graduate School of Asian and African Area Studies, Kyoto University.

from : Kyoto Review