BANGKOK, THAILAND - MARCH 16:

BANGKOK, THAILAND - MARCH 16:

Picture 1: Red-shirted supporters of ousted prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra (one of them wearing a mask of the man himself) shout slogans.

Picture 2: A supporter of deposed Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra holds a syringe full of blood after making a donation at protest site on March 16, 2010 in Bangkok, Thailand. Protesters are donating blood with the intention of collecting one million cubic centimeters of blood to be thrown in demonstrations outside Government House, as the government of Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva continues to reject calls for a dissolution of the House and a fresh election.

Picture 3: The streets outside the 11th infantry battalion barracks and at other protest sites in Bangkok remain full, although some reports on the ground say that, on day three of the protests, numbers are beginning to dwindle.

Whose Blood do The Red Shirts Have on Their Hands? - Their Own of Course

All morning specially set up blood donation points have been extracting claret from the arms of red shirt protesters in central Bangkok Thousands are queuing to have their vein spiked in the name of democracy. The blood will be thrown around the entrances to government buildings at 3pm this afternoon, in a symbolic act akin to scene from a Sam Raimi movie.

The political significance of this move has to be questioned. Yes I agree, a point is being made, but with the clock ticking and peoples’ patience on both sides wavering, could efforts be used more effectively to achieve the movement’s main aim? – Dissolution of the lower parliament resulting in subsequent snap election.

The last few days have seen the red shirts frustrations grow with Prime Minister Abhisit brushing away their ultimatum with typical Ox-Bridge nonchalance. The message is clear: this government is not for budging.

Aside from the obvious health risks associated with throwing blood around in central Bangkok (in a country with a high aids rate), one has to wonder what tangible political gains will result from all this mayhem?

This sadomasochistic act certainly is a graphic and original show of defiance, but its measurable political impact remains to be seen. After all, Prime Minsiter Abhisit’s government is highly unlikely to change their mind and dissolve the parliament as a result.

The balance of power seems to be slipping away from a red movement that is visibly running out of steam and resorting to seemingly more desperate measures to bolster their campaign.

Fellow Thai blogger Somtow Sucharitkul summed up the situation perfectly with this masterstroke of close reasoning. ‘I suppose that the red shirts' other measures, such as breaking a pot in front of the statue of King Taksin, calling down a curse on the government, throwing plastic bags of rotten fish, and having the ex-PM descend through the airwaves from a place variously described as Germany, Cambodia, and Montenegro, have not worked. They were all very imaginative methods of bringing about political change, but when you have the all the resources of witchcraft and the supernatural at your disposal, why stoop to such mundane devices as, for instance, lobbying one of the smaller parties to switch sides so as to shift the balance of power?’

The question is how much longer is the collective ‘jai yen yen’(Thai phrase – ‘Have a cool heart.’) going to last before all hell breaks loose, and the streets of Bangkok are once again dripping with blood – this time non-consensually.

Mike

Bangkok Dangerous - Maybe Not After All.

It seems that the sea of red expected in Bangkok is more of a medium size estuary. Having said that, tributaries are still flowing steadily from the source, and by tonight who knows how grand the spectacle will be. On Friday red shirt officials had expected 1,000,000 protesters to fill the capital’s streets, but presently, this looks highly unlikely. More realistic estimates lie around the 200,000 mark; sizable, yes; capable of forcing the dissolution of the lower parliament, I think not.

What could be the reason for this massive underestimation of people power? It could be the reduction in ‘expenses’ paid to the movement for travel costs. As in any country political influence does not come without considerable expense; Thailand is no exception. A handful of cash, a red t-shirt, and a plastic clapper can arguably buy you a political activist for the day, with whole villages seemingly reveling a collective sense of purpose.

From a Western perspective this practice is questionable, but with the majority of the reds shirts support coming from the abstractly poor North East, it can be excused. This is political expediency Thai Style.

The movement’s grievances have been exacerbated in the last two years by a government that has openly questioned the reds intellectual prowess, and thus, political credibility. Crass arrogance such as this is a major issue in a county where face, or the loss of it, is everything. But, as an objective observer it takes some effort to swerve around this cash for protest politics.

Somtow Sucharitkul, an noteworthy Thai blogger based in Bangkok (http://www.somtow.org/) has this to say: ‘What I am sure about it that my housekeeper told me that according to her sources upcountry the fee for protesting is 500 baht, minus 300 which must be paid to an agent. The newspapers printed that it was 1,500 and that people were objecting to how little money they were getting to protest compared to last time. If it's 500 a day for 3 days, I guess the figures match. My housekeeper said, "My village isn't coming to the protests. They're not getting enough money, and last time it was too hot and it wasn't what we were expecting.’

What ever your opinion a fine line exists between poverty and political exploitation, especially when an aggressive propaganda machine promises imminent wealth to those adorned with a red t-shirt. It would be too cynical to doubt red shirt sincerity entirely, but in the developing world a little money can go a long way.

Mike

Colourful Times in Thailand

September 19, 2006 feels like only yesterday. I was coerced out of a bar in Bangkok’s Sukhumvit district by menacing men dressed in kaki, declaring Marshall Law from loud speakers, as Vaxhall Tanks rolled insidiously down the road in front of me. On this day, Thailand’s Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was ousted from government, and sent packing to a life lived outside Thai borders. Thankfully I made it back to my bedsit unharmed that evening, albeit with the odious sent of violence in the air and a feeling in my stomach, that to this day, I can’t quite put into words. That day in October the ‘yellow shirts’ over threw the government, and ushered in the new age of colour politics.

Today, the dark undercurrents of political violence are threatening again, casting up reminiscent shadows that are all too familiar. A mass anti-government demonstration is to be held in Thailand’s capital at the weekend, and with Thailand’s record of violence at such events, the situation has the potential to explode.

The demonstration at the weekend is being held by the UDD.

Clad in red t-shirts, the UDD movement (The National United Front of Democracy Against Dictatorship), support the former prime Thaksin Shinawatra. (Bizarrely involved in Cambodian policy making at present)

The ‘red shirts’ as they are colloquially know, have a highly organized (and financed) grassroots movement based mainly in the heavily populated north east of the country. They are a self-styled party of the poor, and claim to have purer democratic intentions that the current government. The movement denounces Prime Minister Abhisit (leader of the Democratic Party), claming he and his party took power 'illegitimately', backed by the Thai army and bureaucrats. It calls for the Thai Parliament to be dissolved and a general re-election to be held. The ‘reds’ speak openly about their non-violent nature of their activities and discourse, and have a highly active propaganda machine; including a television station that pumps out the party message on a loop. Daily, I walk past road-side houses which have large televisions, hooked up to bass bins; in front a sea of red shirts sit crossed legged, drinking whisky, eating snacks, glued to the images ahead.

An armchair analysis of the situation will conclude that the ‘reds’ still lack vital inspirational/visionary leadership. They lack charisma at the top, and this could prove to be their undoing. The era of Thaksin as a tangible political force within the democratic system is undoubtedly over; and, if the ‘reds’ are going to advance within a democratic framework, they need to solve this problem. It seems clear that the way forward for the UDD, is to compact their deep and far reaching support base, and form into an independent labour party. This way they would have a clear vision, instead as acting as the ‘hired hands of a corrupt politician,’ as one writer succinctly put it in the Bangkok Post this week.

After examining the UDD’s six party principles, there is little that any Thai would disagree with: establishing a true democracy with HM the King as head if state; overthrowing the bureaucratic system; acting in a strictly non-violent manner; establishing justice and the rule of law; improving the economic well-being of all people; and bring back the 1997 constitution.


It can be stated unequivocally, that the ‘reds’ have not only a democratic right to protest, but a good reason for voicing their grievances in the current political climate. In recent times, leaving aside last months liquidation of 1.2 Billion Dollars worth of Thaksin’s assets by the central government, there have been a number of economic blunders that deserve a more attention than a raised eyebrow: For instance, the GT200 bomb detectors, bought from a British company last year, have been proven ineffective in finding explosives in Thailand’s war-torn southern regions. Prime Minister Abhisit has spoken out against this purchase by the military, criticizing the top-brass, referring to the GT200’s as ‘useless.’ But, even in the face of scientific fact, and ministerial abhorrence, Army commander-in-chief Anupong Paojinda is defiant. Contrast this situation with the 350 million Baht ‘Sky Dragon’, the world first counter-insurgency blimp. The military are now in doubt to whether it is capable of flight. These two issues have compounded anti-government sentiment.

These issues have caused embarrassment in full view front of the medias watchful eye, but worryingly for Thailand, there have been many other such crippling misadventures with the public wallet.

Two wasteful episodes on their own are worth shouting about, and provide the ‘reds’ with a legitimate focus outside the arena of Thaskin worship. The ‘red’ leaders have called for justice on these issues, stating that those responsible should be brought to account, and righty so.

This situation leads me to some contradictions concerning the ‘red’ movement and their fight:

In their six party principles the UDD state firmly that they want justice and a rule of law, yet call the judicial system bias in the recent Thaskin liquidation case even though it previously acquitted Thaskin himself, his ex-wife, and five of Thaksin’s cabinet ministers on another charge Now, these don’t sounds like pre-determined judgments considering the seriousness of the latter changers and the equital that followed. Surely any bias system would have brought the heavy hand of the law down hard at this stage of the proceedings? Is the ‘red’ movement interested in true democratic justice, or some kind diluted ‘red’ justice.

Also, stated in the UDD’s six party principles was the avocation of non-violence. Now, one only has to cast one’s mind back to last years Asean Summit in Pattaya when a sea of red shirts attacked Prime Minister Abhisit’s car at the interior ministry. This stands in stark contrast to the movement’s claims to non-violence. And, with the fiery rhetoric being lambasted from the ‘reds’ leadership over the last few months, few would be surprised if events at the weekend turned sour.

The events in Bangkok at the weekend will be watches closely by many around there world. It is sincerely hoped that violence will not spoil the political aspirations of a movement that has built up a legitimate voice in Thailand, and has a realistic future within a democratic framework.


Mike

Alone With Thought

A man with a blank expression sits on a rock. He watches in silence as the early morning mist begins to lift within the temple grounds. A horizontal line marks the underbelly of the mass of moisture. It moves slowly upward, as if pulled by a giant magnet in the sky. Day break signals the end of the battle between darkness and light. At sundown darkness is the victor, at daybreak light prevails.

He looks on in awe as the surrounding area is illuminated with a luxurious pastel hue: the horizon is shaded with a beautiful softness. Roosters signal the day’s arrival with their trademark throat clearing, cutting through the still air like a knife through damp clay.

He raises his notepad horizontally to his forehead, enabling him to avert the sun glare. In the distance, a Buddhist temple sits quietly below a hill, patiently waiting for the day to unfold. He is fascinated by the intricate patterns of light that are reflecting from the stained glass, casting spells of timeless beauty. As he walks slowly down a manicured lawn, the smell of Orchids drifts delicately in the breeze. Bees and butterflies appear from nowhere, aroused by the sensual smell perfuming the air.

At the far end of the lawn, a small path takes its place. Here, stray dogs cast watery eyed glances at his cautious movements. They pant mechanically, in a futile struggle against the elements. Their efforts are in vain. The man unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt as the cold morning air retreats, leaving only a memory in its wake.

The path meanders past giant green shrubs and delicate flowers until it reaches a small wooden bridge. Perspiration trickles down the man’s back, creating a wet patch on his shirt. Ornately carved teak doors become visible to one side, their tearful departure from the shadows now complete. The man raises an eye brow impressed with the intricacy of the design.

He passes a wonderful golden archway that stoops down as if attempting to kiss the ground. Its physical beauty electrifies his imagination.

Everywhere he looks pinks and purples, reds and greens, mauves and yellows, compete as if in a beauty pageant. Natural selection is their make-up artist. The man’s stony demeanor is broken; he breaks into a smile. Two coconut trees sway like drunkards; between them a red hammock is stretched.

As the sun begins to assert itself, the man sits on the grass. Monks chant. The monosyllables are powerful and engage him. His attention is drawn upwards. Birds begin to sing, their mouths controlled by invisible thread. Melodious softness covers everything like a sea mist, momentarily sight and sounds melt into one.

A butterfly floats seductively like a silver feather and lands on an Orchid. It rests. Tentatively, slowly, and with great effort, the wings come back to life as he watches. It flies out of sight.

He stands up and brushes the dry grass from his shorts and back. Dry leaves crackle under his feet causing an unprecedented commotion. Panicking lizards retreat to a safe haven somewhere in the thick undergrowth.

The path comes to an abrupt end. Humble monastic dwellings hug the walled perimeter. In front of the huts he observes freshly washed orange robes sway leisurely to nature’s rhythm. To the left of the huts gawky chickens play medieval games of joust, baking under the white-hot plate in the sky. Their movements, like those of martial arts masters, deftly move between placidity and aggression. A cloud of dust forms above them. The man covers his eyes and tries not to breath.

Everywhere he gazes, symbols jump out at him: Brave stallions stand on hind legs, their expression that of utter fearlessness. Elephants raise trunks triumphantly, as if trumpeting in a new dawn in human understanding. Ancient Papal trees dressed luxuriously in brightly coloured silks, ward off evil spirits. His head spins wildly contemplating the meaning of it all.

An open expanse of sun-burnt grass leads him to a lone pineapple bush. Its isolation compounded by the barrenness of its immediate surroundings. On its own, like the robed men who eat its fruit, it lives out life without complaint. He exhales this thought, and breaths it in again: it resonates deep within him.

In the distance he sees, a shimmering golden spire peeping out of the dense jungle, pointing upwards towards the cloudless sky. The jungle intimidates him: ever encroaching. During daylight hours it gives off a silent, but intense energy. At nighttime it reverberates, teaming with life.

The sun slowly, but steadily climbs. The temperature accompanies this assent and pounds the man with wave upon wave of stultifying heat. He begins to tire.

With this his journey ends. A shady patch of grass silently commands his attention. Here he walks, dragging his feet on the gravel, listening to sound.

Mike

2010

Balcony New Years Day:

As I finish my first coffee of 2010, an unusually cool breeze sweeps over my body; a welcome relief from the rapidly rising humidity. It's 11am and Cockerels confusingly sing their song of dawn, tricked by the absence of the sun's glare and the momentary dip in temperature. I close my eyes and drift away to a Greek rooftop. There I sit at a wicker table dressed in blue, with fresh bread, feta cheese, and steaming coffee. The white-wash buildings look at me with lustrous eyes, against perfect sky-blue visa - postcard perfect. My Mediterranean fantasy is cut short by a honking horn; a heavily tattooed lady is selling bamboo juice.

So here we have it - 2010. I can't fathom what this year has lying in wait, but; it feels good. Everything is in it's right place. A comfortable realization of mental calmness soothes my soul, leaving me smiling like a man who just found a lost ten pound note. The emerald green trees seductively russle as if attempting to flirt with an unseen entity, while street dogs lick their flees and sniff the ground.

On my left, the restaurant waits patiently for the grand opening day. Then, it's muscles will flex, and vault into action, morphing into a money making machine. Below me my classrooms are filled with the distant echos of last weeks lessons, their white boards covered in verb conjunctions - Everything feels beautifully sedated.

2009 was a year packed to the brim with achievement and nuances, to many to name. One has gorged himself on a buffet on classic literature, greedily attempting to feed an insatiable intellectual diet. The path to personal freedom has been activated by the words of Orwell, Huxley, Flaubert to name but a few; their wondrous texts as sweet as chocolate, and as filling as Christmas dinner.

A insightful individual stated: "When I don't like a piece of music, I make a point of listening to it more closely."
This has been my mantra for 2009. A wave of new music has pounded me like a crashing wave, leaving me at times gasping for air. Certain bands have captivated my imagination, most from the punk, and subsequent post-punk explosion of the late 1970s, and early 1980s. What a sparklingly exciting time for music! The hippy movement had had it's day, and people were tiring of laborious progressive rock of the decade. They found sanctuary in the nihilism of punk-poets like John Cooper Clarke and Mark E Smith. Their sardonic acidic cocktails are potent enough to drunken my psyche for years to come. One simply has to mention Souiex and the Banshees, The Mekons, The Cure, The Fall, The Buzzcocks, The Specials, The Clash, and a plethora of others, who have made my 2009 musicially very special indeed.

This is going to be a good year, I can almost taste it.

Mike

The Fall - Totally Wired