Since I have never attended any public demonstration of either yellow PAD or red shirts throughout the political turmoil that has descended on Bangkok’s political scene starting from the 2006 coup, I decided to witness the passing of the red caravan today, Saturday, March 20th, 2010. My interest was piqued not only by the unpopular status of the red shirts (the underdogs) as portrayed by the Bangkok Press but also that the Governor of Bangkok, M.R. Sukhumbhand Paribatra, in his infinite wisdom (the M.R. does not stand for Mister, but an honorific title that indicates close consanguinity to royal blood lines) had advised city residents to stay at home Saturday as red-shirt demonstrators are to march through the capital (The Nation, March 19, 2010). I’ve asked myself, is the Governor anti-Red or anti-business or both? Imagine voluntarily staying at home on a Saturday?
I started taking pictures at 10:30AM as I arrived at the Phayathai intersection in Petchburi Road. I noticed that no one was allowed to use the overpass (by what looked like Red security personnel) and the Red convoy used both sides of the Petchburi Road intersection. The flow at the intersection was controlled by the time interval of the traffic lights enforced by a few policemen, as a result of which, the heavy volume of the persistent and noisy red convoy caused crossing traffic along Phayathai Road from both Siam Square and Victory Monument to back up. However, the flow of reds was going quite smoothly with all kinds of vehicles from SUVs bearing Bangkok plates, countless motorcycles, assorted pickups, rented taxis, provincial rot tu, to an occasional but out of place tuktuk.
Contrary to nagging feelings that I was putting myself needlessly in danger (as a foreigner) amidst the “mob” of red shirts who recently committed the shocking blood pouring protest in front of the government and PM houses, a sensation made worse by the enervating vapours emanating from the heat island effect of downtown Bangkok – instead, I was swept by the cathartic experience of witnessing the so called carabaos (khwai), unspohisticated and brainless rural people, the poor and neglected people of this country assert their rights to protest, to be different, disagree with the present government legitimacy and insist on its dissolution. As only Thais are capable of, this was not a sullen crowd, rather a crowd patiently demonstrating to Bangkokians that they were here and willing to sacrifice to camp out in the scorching heat of the nation's capital, its seat of power, to make their voices and discontents heard whether city folks like us welcome them or not. But also more importantly, in that unique Thai celebratory way of “sanuk”, not getting too caught up with the seriousness of intentions or implications of their actions. Horns from a variety of vehicles plus plastic horns (reminiscent of birthday parties or new year's celebrations) were blown in a staccato beat to the cadence of “ook pai” - about the only thing I could make out. I pitied those who were riding at the back of open pickups and trucks, directly exposed to the merciless sun of summer. But they didn’t look dejected or discouraged. Some were dancing unself-consciously gay to the music blared by loudspeakers from trucks and pickups, and shaking vigorously the clappers shaped in the form of white and red hearts or feet as if in a puny way, they could imitate the trumpets of Joshua's Israelite army and bring down the walls of Jericho - the government of Abhisit Vejajiva with the resonant maddeningly cricket-like sounds of these innocuous plastic clappers. I noticed a crowd of bystanders cheering them up, responding with the same clappers to signal their support and encouragement, while others waved their welcome or gave the “thumbs up” gesture.
Tears fell involuntarily – perhaps in a mixture of pity, the underdogs fighting the established wealthy elites and powerful in Bangkok, what chance do they have? And perhaps of hope too sent their way in silent testimony, that the injustices that they have laid bare and the demands for social justice claimed and social wrongs redressed from the uneven development produced by the headlong rush of Thailand and its controlling elites to take advantage of globalization. That at long last, in their own small way, the reds are protesting this monster we call “globalization”.
I should make it clear that seeing through this catharsis, the red cause is wrought with a lot of confusion and contradictions. It must clear itself from association with Mr. Taksin, which in this case is only a means to an end, as a galvanizing issue. But beyond that, it is for the reds to correct the political process in this country with its extreme urban bias that lives off the surplus and the sweat equity of the agricultural sector. Although it may appear that this magnificent convoy of red protest is a masterful strategy to counter the anti-red Thai press by showing Bangkokians first hand the depth of the discontent and anger through sheer numbers, had been subsidized by powers that be who want to manipulate it for their own purposes, I doubt if many red shirts have been completely seduced by the same old patronage tactics. Not in the heat of summer, not when there is no chance of winning, when they are not fighting in their own territory but in the dazzling capital where the inhabitants look down on them as less than human. I am sure that many of them see the complex issue of social change as inextricably tied up to the ebbing influence, power and significance of the monarchy in this day and age and the absence of countervailing democratic institutions that will improve their life chances. One of the nagging problems, as the recent Economist article notes (http://www.economist.com/displaystory.cfm?story_id=15718981) is precisely the absence of discussion that would allay the deep anxieties of a people long brainwashed by the ideology of indigenous power elites bent on its preservation (no matter how anachronistic), that at least could have prepared the people of eventualities by considering the alternatives. I observed only one vehicle that displayed the photo of HM the King on its window. In terms of symbolism, the Thai flag amidst red banners were much more in common, something that I found truly amazing in a country that without a monarchy is still unthinkable to many.
Tired, exhausted and probably carcinogized by the exhaust of a thousand polluting vehicles, now backed up predictably to a standstill as the convoy head winded its way probably to the traffic choked streets of Lardprao road, I took my last photo at 12:26 PM. Looking in the direction of Yommarat intersection, I would have guessed the tail end of the convoy was at least still another fantastic kilometer away.
Godspeed red shirts!
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