[This is the third of a three part article. Part 1 is available here. Part 2 is available here.]

Speaking in Codes

On the evening of 19 September 2006, I was watching TV at about 9 o’clock. There had been political tension for a long time, so long that I had become habituated to it just as I had become habituated to the peculiar reporting of Thai politics in general. One would often see serious newspaper reports such as “A general whose name begins with P talked to a politician whose name begins with H who took a bribe from a businessman whose name begins with T.” “Influential persons” would cause mischief through the use of “invisible hands”. General Prem was talking about jockeys, horses and owners. Prime Minister Thaksin was making oblique references to “a charismatic person outside the Constitution”. Generals were flatly denying that a coup would ever take place again saying that that era was past and Thailand was a fully democratic nation and the idea was just about unthinkable.

I believed them. So in this atmosphere, I was watching the Channel 11 show Newsline hosted by ML Nattakorn Devakula. I’d watched his show before and found him to be a bombastic and opinionated windbag but one who occasionally said something intelligent and/or interesting. On this occasion, for about ten minutes he seemed to be wittering on about nothing that I could understand. I paraphrase from memory:

The thing that we thought might be happening does seem to be happening. We hope it’s not happening but it certainly seems to be happening and nothing seems to be stopping it from happening. As we speak it’s happening right now. What’s happening seems to be definitely happening… It’s very bad that it is happening but it continues to happen.

I’d had a long day at work and had no clue what this all meant and little immediate interest in deciphering it. I woke up in the morning to the news of the coup and it immediately became crystal clear. Nattakorn had not been acting as a reporter; he had been speaking in code to those who shared the code. I may have been ignorant but many people would have understood him exactly.

I don’t blame Nattakorn. He may not have been acting in the heroic mode of the reporter who tells the truth in simple, unambiguous language. But he may have been acting quite courageously nevertheless; after all he knew that people in tanks were on their way to his TV station to replace his cryptic chatter with pronunciamentos and patriotic music and to do it with violence if they had to. However, the point this and other incidents demonstrate is that an awareness of coded language is necessary to any understanding of, or as things are constituted presently, to anything that can approach a full discussion of Thai politics. The codes I can understand (or at least identify as codes) are in English, so this area of Thai political discourse will be my focus in this paper.

The government is certainly aware of the way people are using codes to say what they want without being punished for it or to evade censorship and they are trying to work out ways to stop this. Information and Communication Technology Minister Ranongruk (who could perhaps be better named the Minister for the Suppression of Information and Communication Technology) explains how computer systems designed to stop people from making statements deemed offensive are being subverted. She submits her name for use as a codeword:

For example, let’s use my name. If the word “Ranongruk” is on the database, then we can check on anyone who uses the word on the internet. It will pop up and we can see what is being written about “Ranongruk”. But the system is easy to evade. People get smart and they type in “Ranong-ruk” if they want to say bad things … and the system won’t catch it.

Ranongruk is right. People get smart. The history of censorship is replete with examples of successful evasion of censorship through coded language. But she is wrong that they are doing it only when they want to say “bad things”. Sometimes they may use coded language in order to say “good things”. Censorship of the type that Ranongruk is in charge of organizing operates as a dragnet picking up everything in its path.

Ranongruk may be unaware of even blunter applications of computer code than hers. The Bangkok Post has an algorithm that converts potentially offensive words into

\\ ////

Yes, that’s right. \\ /////. It’s not a typo. I spoke with a moderator at the Bangkok Post who did not want to be named. He told me that the algorithm was initially designed to catch four letter words. With the rising political tension and fear of lèse majesté charges, management added other words but in a haphazard and incomprehensive fashion. We can see from the following example that the instrument does not always work very well:

Privy Council president and Statesman \\ //// Tinsulanonda said he had prayed to Phra Siam Thewathirat – the country’s guardian spirit – and cursed those people with malicious intentions towards the country, wishing them misfortune.

It’s quite clear even to the naïve reader who the statesman in question is. But it is not clear that the comment was at all critical of him. The \\ //// code, as we will see, is applied to other people and entities but it is indiscriminating. It does not, in Minister Ranongruk’s terms, sift out the “bad things” from the “good things”; instead it leads to further confusion and opens up innumerable opportunities for misinterpretation. It catches all statements – those that criticize \\ //// and those that praise \\ ////, such as the following comment from a Bangkok Post blog. This statement was made in a discussion of the red shirt petition to pardon Thaksin:

It looks like you may not realize that the only person who is empowered to grant a pardon to any convicted person is \\ ////. This include the petty thieves, purse snatchers or any other common criminals under detention. That is why they’re trying to submit the petition to \\ ////. The pardoning of these criminals is an annual \\ //// undertaking that usually takes place around \\ ////’s birthday. I do not believe it is a deliberate attempt to politicize the institution however obvious the political air is. Honestly, I think they know full well the pardon will probably not happen. I would be very surprise if it does. I honestly do not believe any Thai, UDD or PAD, who knows anything about \\ //// would or could say he doesn’t care regardless whether or not the pardoning happens. His entire life has been about caring for the people of this land. I can’t even begin to count all the projects under his direction that were aimed at making people’s lives better. It is his constitutional restrictions cemented by the military coup all those years ago that prevents him from being able to do even more. There were occasions we’ve witnessed where he said enough is enough.

A naïve reader would have no idea which person it is who has done all these good works because any identifying marks are screened out by this blunt instrument. The only clue we have is the reference to “the institution” something that would also leave the naïve reader puzzled. (I will discuss this term in a future paper.)

And in other cases, for a casual reader interested in learning about Thai history, the device would create problems:

• 1980 – General \\ //// Tinsulanonda assumes power.
• 1983 – \\ //// gives up his military position and heads a civilian government. He is re-elected in 1986.
• 1988 – General Chatichai Choonhaven replaces \\ //// after elections.

And in another message we get this: “Even \\ //// appeared to have been in support of the policy in his ’03 birthday speech.” The informed reader will discern that the two \\ ////s are different people but for those who are not well-informed or are seeking to become more informed or are merely pursuing a casual interest the different identities of \\ //// could become conflated. Does this serve the interests of those who are trying to protect “the institution”?

However, much of the coded language in the blogs is not imposed by the recipient of the information, such as the Bangkok Post, but by the original writer of the message. Whether critical, laudatory or neutral, respondents on the Bangkok Post’s language pre-code their text so that it will not be rendered as \\ ////. People get smart as Minister Ranongruk said. Some of the ways people have successfully tried to get around such devices and the censorious attention of moderators follow:

… a former King of England is suspected of also having German sympathies (or indeed that the Ro.yal family is itself of a direct German background, they even changed their last name to sound more English). One has to also be in awe of the fact that the majority of the Europeans K.ings and Q.ueens of Europe were related by two or three blood lines). Lots of cousins got married I guess. If you or I marry like that it we would be called incestuous. I guess that is the recipe for European ‘R.oyal’.

It’s interesting to note that in this case the poster is not talking directly about Thai politics but presumably needs to change some words because he or she wants to get them past the censor to make the meaning clear. The post reflects the way in which censorship creates confusion and in which it is self-replicating. The poster has assumed the words the Bangkok Post is likely to censor. In fact, a more careful reading as I am carrying out here reveals that, very oddly, King and Queen are acceptable but “Royal” and “His Majesty” and “Prem” must be replaced by \\ ////. Censorship induces self-censorship and coding which is often in excess of what the censors originally mandate.

In most cases, however, Bangkok Post posters are referring directly to Thai politics. The next post seeks to evade the Bangkok Post’s censorship by using the code words, “H…M  and “K…ing”, yet it certainly would not fall under Minister Ranongruk’s category of “bad things”. It adopts the Abhisit government and PAD line that the petition to the king asking that he pardon Thaksin is a potential source of annoyance or discomfort to His Majesty:

Thaksin devisivness only has one goal, to be a false prophet and incite unrest, now insult the K…ing. Might as well add lese majeste to his many charges. Giving gov’t to the people means only if he can be the boss. H…M deserves better, especially after all he’s done and these being the remaining years of his memorable life.

Another longer post on the same topic makes the same point more temperately but uses a different set of code words. I will quote this at some length to give an idea of the confusion that might arise in the mind of somebody who is not well acquainted with Thai politics:

I’m not sure this petition is a wise move for the red shirts. If you look at the past, pardons have only been granted by those who were convicted and began to serve their time, which doesn’t apply to Thaksin. However, from what I’ve read, that doesn’t mean this couldn’t be granted by HIM, it’s just that there is no precedent for it.

Some have said that if HE were to grant a pardon, that it would reflect badly on the courts. Yet, go back and count how many L.M. convictions there have been, especially in regards to foreigners, who were granted pardons almost as a matter of course. Doesn’t that “reflect badly” on the courts? If HE can grant pardons and basically overturn the decisions of the courts in regards to these rulings, without the courts being “embarrassed”, then HE could do so in this regard as well, so I don’t really buy the argument that it would discredit the courts, because they are discredited in nearly every L.M. conviction against foreigners nearly every time there is a “conviction”. …

But let’s be honest here. Not everyone, especially the “Elites”, “Old Money” and Military want to see him come back, other than in a pine box for burial. He scares the he.ll out of them, and it’s possible his life would be in constant danger. But if something were to happen to him, some “accident”, or a blatant assassination, that could plunge this country into a civil war, and no one in their right mind wants to see that.

But let’s look at the other side of that coin and let’s say that HE doesn’t grant it, or even refuses to hear it, what will that do? It will delight everyone who is anti-Thaksin, but it could also have a negative effect on that institution. The other day in ThaiVisa forum it was stated that a man from San Kamphaeng revealed that Thai there had claimed to love Thaksin more than HIM, and that they were mad at HIM. When I read that it sent a shiver down my spine, as I could not imagine any Thai saying such a thing, and it made me question the validity of such a statement. But what if it were true? If so, and HE denied the petition for the pardon, would it turn people against that institution? I’m not sure I even want to consider the consequences of that if it were to happen.

While, on the one hand I can respect the “devotion” of the reds to Thaksin, and understand their reasons for it, on the other I don’t think this is the smartest move they could make, and that it could possibly lead to further divisions within the country. If they get the signatures they want, and I have a feeling they probably could without too much trouble, and then submit it to HIM, that is going to place a tremendous amount of pressure on HIM in which, regardless of his decision, is going to create further divisions in this country.

In this post, we get the code words “HE”, “HIM”, “He.ll” (perhaps one born out of a hypersensitivity to the Bangkok Post’s heavy handedness), “L.M” and also “that institution” (a code word I will address in another paper). On the other hand, the reader must clearly distinguish “He” from “HE” and “him” from “HIM” to make sense of this.  Some might wonder why some unidentified under-achiever from San Kamphaeng was feeling scorned because Thais loved Thaksin more than him and what it was this good man had done to arouse the anger of the red shirts. Admittedly, most people reading this post would probably understand and know the background but posts are recycled and reprinted in different contexts and the censorship/coding  here would sow confusion.

Some other code words used to evade \\ //// in the Bangkok Post are “you-know-who”, “the honest broker of Thai politics”, and in an interesting analogy “that group of trees in the center of the field”.

It is clear that where there is a blunt censorship instrument operating as at the Bangkok Post, code words are used through the force of necessity: on one hand the necessity defined by the Bangkok Post which automatically codes words that are thought of as politically dubious and on the other hand, the necessity of getting their point across as defined by many of the respondents.

However, there are many blogs which do not operate such crude censorship. Of course, some of these blogs, particularly, I suppose, those hosted in Thailand, those whose contributors are Thailand based and those which are sensitive to the always present fear of being banned in Thailand, moderate posts to their blogs. But in these there is also coded language used by both the principal authors of these blogs and by the respondents.

These coded words cover a wide variety of topics and a wide variety of political opinions and I must let the readers work out the possible meanings for themselves. Some are heavily coded and highly ambiguous; others are much easier to work out. Some require extensive background knowledge which is often encoded in the code word itself. Others are more or less arbitrary. Some of these code words are: “the higher place” , “John Doe”, “the inevitable”, “some Other party in the power struggle you’re referring to”, “two obvious Higher parties”, “Germany”, “she and Germany”, “ Someone, before his most unfortunate incident on September 15”, “the Other party”, “Germany”, The pandas Lin Hui and Lin Ping, “the kindergarten kids”, “the kindergarten”,  “the principal of the kindergarten”, “the son of one who must not be mentioned in Thailand”, “powerful and mighty backer”, “Elvis”, “son of Elvis”, “when Elvis leaves the building”, “you-know-who”, “that institution”, “the inevitable”, “the unspeakable”, “you know who”, “you know who”, “the ‘R’ word”, “R”, “the other ‘R’”, “a certain high up person”, “you know what”, “unmentionable connections”, “a certain person”, “one big guy”, “the ‘r’ word”, “one central and final event”, “a big-cheese”, “the big guy”, “the big house”, “the big house and the privy (the small house)”, “The principal reason for all of this”, “A group and entity which cannot be mentioned which has over-whelming political influence, has enormous business interests in every aspect of the Thailand economy, all of them impacted by government policies or non-policies”, “a certain birthday party”, “a certain someone: US-born, swiss-educated, thai-chinese mother…”, “a certain draconian law”, “his other friend was in Germany”, “the main man”, “those in a high place” , “someone in the sky”, “someone high up”, “the sky”, “certain people who have always professed not to be involved in politics”, “Someone near and dear”, “numero doce”, “his mom”, “a secret ingredient”, “the one big news”.

There are many other code words which I have not referenced. It would be impossible to do so because so much of the commentary on Thai politics is now written in code, metaphor and analogy. Anyone reading blogs in English on Thai politics has to cut through a jungle of these code words to make meaning of what is being said.

Reasons for codes: a climate of fear/paranoia?

Why do all these codes exist? In many instances, it is clear that the posters are quite critical of their coded referents and might have good cause to worry about being caught by the lèse majesté law or the Computer Crimes Act if they talked plainly. Even if they are not worried about any personal consequences, they may be worried that blog moderators would suppress their comments for fear of being caught as second order violators of the law as happened to Chiranuch Premchaiporn of the Prachatai website.

In other cases, however, the posters either praise or are neutral about their coded referents. It seems that they too might be worried about getting caught in a dragnet or of being misinterpreted or taken out of context. Also, perniciously, coding can become something that develops through force of habit and through imitation and membership of a peer group that habitually talks in the same terms. There is a certain thrill in being able to break perceived mores in this way, to demonstrate the cleverness to talk in a language that few understand. On the other hand, there is a widespread and potent frustration at not being able to talk freely and in a way that is not as subject to misinterpretation and misunderstanding as coded language necessarily is.

There is also widespread fear and anxiety that goes hand-in-glove with this frustration. Many have noted the climate of fear over free expression in Thailand. Brad Adams from Human Rights Watch says, “A climate of fear looms over civil discourse and in cyberspace as a result of increasing restrictions on freedom of expression under the Abhisit government.” Reporters without Borders has been constantly critical of the censorship laws and ups the ante from “a climate of fear” to “a climate of paranoia”. Amnesty International, after a long time on the sidelines, has at last joined the charge and has come out and criticized censorship in Thailand, citing the King in support of its case. Supinya Klangnarong who was hailed as a champion of free speech by the yellow shirts for her David and Goliath battle against the Thaksin government’s attempt to stifle her through a libel suit, (here and here) has said that 60 percent of the Thai population are “silent because of fear” and that the Abhisit government is pursuing a double strategy of “creating a climate of fear and at the same time remaining open”, relying on the fear to do the censoring work and the openness to preserve its image. Pravit Rojahanaphruk, one of the rare progressive voices from The Nation, has written in Prachatai: “This politics of ultra-royalism will restrict even further the already near-non-existent public space that is critical of the royal institution. Unrealistic expectations will likely result, and Thai democracy will fall deeper into the black hole of anti-democratic language and intolerance.”

It would be surprising if bloggers and posters did not pick up on this atmosphere and respond to it. Minor and major panics break out from time to time on the blogs as the cyber community suspects infiltration from the dark powers that be. Questions like these fly around: “Why can’t I access this site? Has it been banned? Or is it just technical difficulties? Can someone tell me what’s happening? Is someone reading my posts or my emails? Are you who you say you are? Are things what they seem?”

It has been said that just because you’re paranoid it doesn’t mean that nobody is watching you. And obviously the Thai authorities are reading people’s emails as the case of Suwicha Takhor bears out and they are banning websites without going through the proper legal channels. In response to a question as to whether the ICT Ministry had “illegally or pre-emptively banned any website”, Minister Ranongruk answered categorically that it had not. In absolute contradiction of this answer she immediately went on to say: “But it takes time to get court orders, so we may delete certain content deemed inappropriate before we go through the process.” So it should not be surprising that bloggers are alert to the possibility of bans taking place with no publicity. Blogger AbsolutelyBangkok recently reported that Web users all over Thailand had reported

blockings by the mighty MICT as well as hazardous scripts on government sites. A reader reported absolutelyBangkok.com was blocked as were – depending on where you are and what ISP you use – CNN, Yahoo, Facebook, Flickr and others. Quite an honor to be blocked along with CNN, Facebook and such.”

Absolutely Bangkok then speculated as to whether it was a “silly MICT computer tech tweaking something” or whether it was “A test run, a dress rehearsal for the one big news”. The point to make here is not which of these speculations is true; it is that in the absence of reliable information from the authorities about what they are doing, such speculation is bound to intensify and the fears and rumours are bound to intensify.

A poster on BangkokPundit called “Ricefield Radio” recounts an incident which induced this type of fear:

Not long ago I checked my server stats and found had I had no hits from Thailand today. I then realized it was just shortly after 1:00 am, the server resets at midnight, and few if any Thai hits appear at night on the weekend. This insignificant panic attack reminds me that we are all under their thumb to some degree and we have to be vigilant if not careful about what we say. This is not a good situation and is a stark reminder that in other places, not too distant, journalists have just disappeared into the night never to be seen again. The arbitrary use of the LM and computer Crime and other media related laws is a direct assault on the media as well as the people.

A very sad fact is that the majority, media included, either don’t know, don’t care or just go along with the noose tightening around their throats waiting for the floor to drop out from beneath their feet.

I share these apprehensions and I can attest to feeling the same panic attacks when the internet goes awry. We have to imagine new scenarios for repressive censorship. A carload of goons might not arrive at midnight and knock on the door to find the reader of the banned book or the samizdat publishers. They may only have to deliver an electronic knock on the door to destroy the operation. Censorship depends for its effectiveness not merely on actually identifying the dissidents but on making them aware of the possibility of being identified, of making them scared to say what they think or even to say anything at all and making others scared to read these dissident opinions. Or of forcing them into ways of speaking that are incomprehensible, that sound meaningless, mad or inconsequential, that go round and round in ever diminishing circles.

Another classic game that censors play (and that the censored respond to) is that of fomenting suspicion and distrust among their targets. One blog respondent points an accusing finger at the presence of suspect agent provocateurs on the website he is responding to. Siammiddlepath responds to a commentator who has confessed to ignorance of the existence of a clandestinely circulating CD: “I’m not even sure if Chris Beale is a part of the 2.4 operation. Going through his past comments sometimes I can’t help feeling he is fishing for information and just baiting for the next victim of a certain draconian law? Sorry, it’s just an impression.” Siammiddlepath then goes on to warn another blogger of the dangers of being too open saying, “Superanonymous [incidentally, the choice of pseudonym reveals something else about the atmosphere of secrecy and fear], you should be careful.”

We might choose to regard these responses as the paranoiac whispers and over-reactions that emerge in all closed, cult-like societies (and the blog world has some characteristics that match these) but on the other hand, we might forgive these accusations when we take into account the views of The Nation’s editorialist on this matter. The Nation is hardly the voice of anarchic freedom. They have consistently defended the existence and application of censorship and have supported the Abhisit government’s line. But at the conclusion of a general discussion of web censorship and cyber attacks worldwide, the editorial turns its attention to Thailand and unambiguously states that the government’s censorship regime is anarchically propelled by whim not by law and that there are Thai government sponsored agent provocateurs working in cyberspace. The Nation should see it as their duty to back up these very significant claims by publishing whatever evidence they have and demanding that those responsible be indicted:

Of late, Thai authorities have been monitoring private emails with intensity. Sometimes, agencies act on their own accord, even though the Abhisit government has said repeatedly it respects freedom of expression both in print and digital form. But somehow there are discrepancies. Experts in information technology have disguised themselves as friendly users on online social networking groups such as Facebook and Twitter, trying to locate groups and individuals who are considered to have negative views on the country and its respected institutions. Thailand used to be one of the freest countries in Asia, both in traditional and new media. However, in the past three years Internet censorship and heavy filtering of online content has become a common practice here.

Awareness of codes: “now we live by code words”

There is an increasing awareness by bloggers and other commentators of the importance and prevalence of coded language. The prominent political blogger BangkokPundit seems particularly aware of them and equally aware of the limits of free speech in Thailand often stating in response to those limits–quite understandably–that he has no wish to spend time in prison. One of the tactics he uses, as in this instance with a coded speech by Sondhi Limthongkul, is not to decode the text himself but to suggest to the reader that “if one reads though the lines and decodes what in a ‘high place’ and in the ‘sky’ [Sondhi’s code words] means “one can work out Sondhi’s meaning”. BangkokPundit is alert to any possibility of an increased space for free speech through the extended use of codes; he picks up on the freer, less disguised  use of certain code words in new contexts; in one instance, he rhetorically asks “btw, can we now use the code words ‘backing’ and “baramee’ without concern?” after seeing them in a more mainstream publication. Bloggers like BangkokPundit react in a fluid way to censorship. As the space for free speech expands, they occupy it; as it shrinks, they retreat. In another article, commenting on Thailand’s drop in Reporters without Borders ranking of 66 in 2002 to 130 in 2009, BangkokPundit maintains that the situation is not as bad as it seems and that the reporting of “sensitive” issues is actually greater. The reason is that people have learnt to speak in codes: “Now we live by code words”.

Likewise the columnist Chang Noi asserts the increasing importance of codes:

Over the past year alone, the nature of political debate within Thailand has changed utterly. More sections of society are involved in the debate. Things once unsaid are now said. In public forums, speakers have evolved codes, metaphors, and gestures, which their audience can understand. On radio, presenters have quietly transgressed old taboos. In semi-private spaces like the interior of a taxi, exchanges have become more forthright.

One poster to a Bangkok Post forum who signs as “Thai_100%” writes tellingly and sympathetically that pressure from fearful moderators means that posters have to be deliberately unclear. The poster apologizes for speaking in code but holds out the hope that it will ultimately be understood:

I think the “mods” are under new orders, after all, they have to work here and they must tow the “party” line perhaps? (if they want to remain employed that is)
This why we sometimes write in riddles which I know is not fair to people for whom English is a second or third language but hopefully, for those that want to know what we are really saying, there are others that can help, like you and your friend perhaps?

Nicholas Farrelly from New Mandala has also suggested that despite the increasing restrictions of speech the space for open discussion is increasing. There are new “rebellions” constantly breaking out against censorship and threatening its grip. Respondent Ralph Kramden agrees with this analysis and makes the point that internet censorship is actually very difficult as “Much of it appears, is blocked, reappears, is sent around by emails and so on.” The analogy I would make here is with spotfires; the information leaps over firebreak and control lines.

But of course there is argument against these points of view. Some see the use of coded language as falling into a trap which plays right into the hands of the censors, expanding the confusion and powerlessness which censorship induces. A poster called “Curious” sees blogs as a space where codes are not necessary (but as I have shown codes actually proliferate on the blogs, necessary or not):

I’m wondering why Chang Noi can’t say the “r” word. Well I guess if you are publishing in a national newspaper there’s your answer – you can’t say it. In that case then why publish at all, when all you do is continue fuelling the misunderstanding surrounding the event that it was a “military” coup. …

Better to blog it and tell it like it is.

Other bloggers admit to both a desire to stay away from sensitive subjects, and a feeling of as much confusion as anyone else. The following short interchange illustrates a range of attitudes. It could be a scene from Waiting for Godot. It whispers of powerlessness, self-repression, hidden knowledge and deep frustration.  The bloggers seem to be talking about Thaksin’s chances of returning to power but it could be about anything. I have constructed this exchange as a short play. It moves from an attempt to discuss something through an admission of the inability to say anything, to an admonition not to discuss that which you can say nothing of, to an expression of regret that even imaginary nothings can’t be discussed:

THE DOGCATCHER: I still think he’s waiting for something to happen. Then hey presto back in power.

WEFEAROURDESPOT: We all know what he’s waiting for.

THE DOGCATCHER: I have so much to say on this subject but I can’t.

FILCH: Apparently neither can I. I do remember posting on this subject earlier about Mr T positioning himself ready for the inevitable, but alas it has been removed by the powers that be. So what do people think will happen when the inevitable does happen?

STRONTIUM DOG: I think it’s best not to discuss it.

FILCH: Discuss what? It’s kinda sad when we can’t discuss a hypothetical nothing.

Compare the scene above with this crucial excerpt from Samuel Beckett’s play:

VLADIMIR: Say something!

ESTRAGON: I’m trying.

Long silence.

VLADIMIR: (in anguish). Say anything at all!

ESTRAGON: What do we do now?

VLADIMIR: Wait for Godot.

Vladimir’s anguished “say anything at all!” is a plea to keep life going in the face of absurdity. In the absurdist drama of Thailand’s censorship regime, the same imperatives apply.

It’s kinda sad

Like Filch says, it is kinda sad what censorship does.

It produces a necessity to talk in codes. People want to say things and will seek to say them but they want safety. The coding of speech often actually outruns the demands of the censors but this is not surprising because in Thailand if you misread the censor’s demands, you can get a very hefty prison sentence that will destroy your life. The censors talk in codes too in order to pretend that free speech is still the dominant mode of discourse in Thailand. Codes are difficult to understand and open to misinterpretation by their very nature. Speech becomes solipsistic and cliquish, unavailable for public consumption and examination, shadowy and secretive, open to all sorts of distortion. It becomes noise not information.

But, equally, powerful codes can gain widespread currency and understanding. Censorship regimes may begin by censoring direct unambiguous expression. But people are smart. They resort to indirect, ambiguous, coded speech. When code words proliferate and become more and more understood, the censorship either (a) becomes irrelevant and redundant; it falls into abeyance and censorship becomes an exercise in futility. Or (b) the censorship responds to and seeks out the codes thus expanding exponentially beyond its original aims. The discovered codes are recoded and the process intensifies paranoiacally as language tries to conceal itself and becomes layered with hidden and disputed meanings such that all language becomes suspect. The logic of the second type of censorship ultimately means that any expression is potentially subversive, even deliberate non-expression as in the military crime of “dumb insolence”, where mute gesture can be punished.  The mute gesture of sitting rather than standing in a cinema, as Chotisak Onsoong has found out, can be punished as dumb insolence. A thought crime.

Remember Orwell’s analysis in 1984. The Party wanted to create Newspeak by stripping language of all nuance and ambiguity, all irony and gesture, all code. There would simply be “good” and “ungood”. The ultimate logical outcome of censorship is the category of ThoughtCrime.

Annette Hamilton has summed up the dangers of the current censorship situation in Thailand eloquently:

When silence is enforced for a long time noise –when it comes – is deafening …[Censorship] results in a situation where fears, hopes, dreams and interpretations are bottled up for years and decades, circulate through rumor and gossip and may come out in terrible, violent confrontations.

The authorities should heed this warning and not let such a state of affairs come to pass.

[Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Thomas Hoy teaches in the Department of English at Thammasat University.]

In recent months several events point to familiar UMNO (United Malay National Organisation) intrigue. This occurs whenever there is a tussle for power at the highest level. Is Muhyiddin (who just launched his blog – Muhyiddin Yassin for Malaysia), Prime Minister Najib’s Deputy, attempting to overthrow his boss? Najib, who only came into power in April of 2009, is in real danger of not completing a term as Prime Minister (read here).

Muhyiddin has taken some tangential positions to his “boss”. Muhyiddin’s stance on hot button issues such as the “Allah” Court ruling — insisting that Christians drop the usage of the word “Allah” and backtracking on the formation of an inter-faith council to resolve the “Allah” issue through dialogue — were ominous. In fact, Muhyiddin demonstrated his fundamentalist credentials as soon as he became Deputy Prime Minister in April 2009 but strengthened them further in October 2009 (he made racist statements against Anwar Ibrahim), when it was clear that fundamentalists were gaining the upper hand in UMNO.

The context to this is simple — UMNO has two different views on how to remain in power — to become a Malay/Muslim extremist party to capture the Malay votes or to return to the middle ground — which had served it well for the past 52 years. Muhyiddin represents the first view while Najib the second. Unfortunately, due to Najib’s indecisiveness, he is considered the new “Pak Lah” (the former Prime Minister) while Muhyiddin is seen as the new “Mahathir” (read here). Despite, Najib’s policy prescription of “Malay Leadership”, it appears that UMNO is still about “Malay Supremacy” as represented by Muhyiddin.

Najib’s 1Malaysia slogan and policy agenda (read here, here and here) has been systematically rubbished by UMNO hardliners with the support of key government Ministers such as Muhyiddin and Malay/Muslim civil servants and non-governmental organisations bent on ensuring continued “Malay Supremacy” (more here, here and here).

Then there were the fire-bombings of places of worship (mostly Christian) after the “Allah” court ruling which shattered Malaysia’s facade as a peaceful nation where people of different faiths and races live harmoniously. Furthermore, a recent forum organised by JAKIM (the Islamic Development Department) blamed Christians for tensions in the country and a forum panellist threatened Christians with a repeat of May 13 (race riot organised by certain UMNO members after losing 2/3 majority in the Peninsula Malaysia in 1969) — a view which is supported by Muhyiddin but not Najib.

Several startling events point to insiders sabotaging Najib. The story of two missing jet engines which occurred during Najib’s tenure as Defence Minister surfaced after being “…solved…”. It was surprising that the scandal resurfaced under the eyes of Najib’s once trusted ally, the current Minister of Defence, Ahmad Zahid Hamidi. Since the scandal broke, two individuals, believed to be scapegoats have been charged.

The biggest set-back came a few days ago when the Prime Minister’s special aide, Nasir Safar , allegedly called ancestors of Malaysians of Indian heritage beggars and thieves and women ancestors of Malaysian Chinese  prostitutes.  This happened at, of all places, a 1Malaysia forum attended by the UMNO’s partners from the Barisan Nasional.  Nasir also threatened to revoke the citizenship of non-Malays who challenged the limit of 12 subjects that a student can take at the SPM (Malaysia’s equivalent to O-level) examinations (Muhyiddin is the current Education Minister who came up with this ruling which reduces the value of subjects such as Tamil, Mandarin and Bible Knowledge).

Several commentators have already suggested that Najib is facing unprecedented resistance to his reform agenda and is being sabotaged in the process (read here) as his middle of the road approach goes against the very being of UMNO.

Najib’s position is weak — both in UMNO and nationally. His ruling coalition is unstable with all key component parties facing leadership crises. The economy continues to falter and Malaysia’s weakening reserves suggests capital flight. Anwar’s Sodomy Trial and the “Allah” issue may drive moderates further away as fundamentalists push UMNO further to the right.  Judging by previous UMNO intrigue (e.g. May 13, 1969; Operasi Lalang, October 1987; Reformasi, September 1998), it is likely that Najib will have to resort to underhand tactics to save his position in UMNO — and as always it is innocent Malaysians — mostly likely opposition leaders and democracy that will pay the price.

With the Thai government announcing a renewed effort to “protect the king” it is probably time to examine developments in their online campaigns to generate positive feelings about the monarchy.

A long-time reader recently alerted me to a big advertisement in the Bangkok Post (above) trumpeting the creation 0f a website called www.weloveking.org.  It was launched last week by Bhum Jai Thai political leader Newin Chidchob. The launch received wide coverage in the Thai media.

This new website invites contributions of smiling photographs or videos to “give happiness to ‘father’”.  When you click across to www.weloveking.org make sure you turn up the volume so you can hear the site’s theme song.  It is also possible to download the song as a “ring tone” or “calling melody”. For uploading photos and videos, the site offers three easy methods, including Multimedia Messaging Service.

Long-time New Mandala readers know that this is not the first government-affiliated effort to define appropriate online coverage of royal matters.

All I hope is that this new site is maintained with more diligence than www.protecttheking.net which was, you might recall, designed to serve as a one-stop-shop for dobbing in lese majeste offenders. Readers may remember that the responsible official forgot to renew the domain registration.  Now when you access www.protecttheking.net you get all manner of gratuitous financial advice from “the kings of protecting your pockets”.  It isn’t, I’d wager, what the Thai authorities had in mind.

Not to be put off by that loss of valuable digital real estate, the Thai government has established another new site: www.ourking.in.th. The branding on the preliminary page indicates support from the Office of His Majesty’s Principal Private Secretary and the Office of the Royal Development Projects Board, among other agencies.

It is still in the early stages of development and they are even inviting public input on the site’s logo and template.  With a total prize of 220,000 baht at stake you could play a major role in designing this tribute to the king of Thailand.  To apply to enter the design competition you need to complete this form.  Applications close on 30 April 2010.

At some stage into the future, Burma will have a civilian Government, which will face great challenges. At some stage into the future, the regional and international community will be asked to help in the rebuilding of Burma’s economic and social structures. Australia’s view therefore is that the international community help prepare Burma for the future. Burma’s capacity cannot be allowed to completely atrophy to the ultimate disadvantage and cost of its people. The international community needs to start the rebuilding now. This is not a reward for Burma’s military, but a recognition of the immense task faced by current and future generations of Burmese.

- Extracted from Australian Foreign Minister Stephen Smith’s “Ministerial Statement on Burma”, 8 February 2010.

Update (9 February 2010): Linda Mottram from the ABC has a very useful report which provides further argument from the Foreign Minister, and also from the Shadow Foreign Minister, Julie Bishop, and Myint Cho, from the Australia-Burma Council.

To help with further expansion and development, in 2010 we are seeking to appoint three country editors.  This follows the recent appointment of Greg Lopez as New Mandala Editor – Malaysia.

The new positions are New Mandala Editor – Burma, New Mandala Editor – Cambodia, and New Mandala Editor – Laos.

These voluntary positions will be filled by energetic and committed individuals. Each editor will assume responsibility for the New Mandala content concerned with their country. They will be tasked with writing, or soliciting, at least one New Mandala post per week.  These positions provide unique opportunities to contribute to the study of mainland Southeast Asia through the premier academic blog about the region.

Potential applicants are encouraged to consider the selection criteria with respect to their preferred country editorship.

For these positions applicants should:

• Demonstrate an ability to write and edit for timely publication;
• Be very comfortable with standard publishing, editing and Internet technologies, and be willing to master the tools relevant to the blogging environment;
• Possess appropriate country experience, knowledge and skills;
• Share a desire to push forward academic commentary on their country of expertise;
• Enjoy lively academic (and not-so-academic) debate;
• Appreciate the dynamic and time-critical nature of New Mandala’s mission.

Formal qualifications may prove relevant but we are just as interested in appointing editors who show a commitment to “learning on the job”.  These roles offer substantial autonomy and there is no sense in which the newly appointed editors will be expected to follow any perceived New Mandala consensus.

We are looking for critical thinkers, energetic contributors, and formidable debaters.

The New Mandala Editors for Burma, Cambodia and Laos will receive training and support, but will also need to take the initiative and immerse themselves in the blogging environment.

Applications for these positions should address the selection criteria and be accompanied by a brief CV.  All applications should be sent to nicholas.farrelly@anu.edu.au.

This Call for Applications will close on Friday 5 March 2010.

There are two aspects regarding function: first, the demystification of the royals, and second, their desecration. We routinely question the appearances and the apparent holiness so we can expose the shocking sight of the monarchy’s functions. Often, the royal family is nothing but a beautifully decorated balloon full of hot air. The exterior looks so dignified and seductive, that many fall for it. Like old Socrates constantly trying to prove that the Beautiful equals the Good, the royals constantly polish their own image – in the absence of function.

Where does their image actually come from? From the royalist hagiographers who concluded that the royals create “unity” for Dutch society? From the prime minister who thinks that the royal family represents Dutch identity? Does the idea that the royals have to be a visible symbol of the Netherlands come from the obsequious servants that surround them?

We’ll disabuse you right away. It’s the queen herself doing it. She creates her own image. She dictates how her subjects see her. And she does it in an underhanded way. Secretly and on the sly. It is as if statue sculpted itself by changing from artist to image and vice versa. The queen can do this because of the way our political system is organized. Within the archaic monarchy we have another medieval relic, namely the privy council. This weird institution advises the government. And if ever it would be necessary, it replaces the crown.

So how does this self sculpting statue come to be? Very simple. The queen is head of government, while the prime minister is only its leader. So the queen, as head of the privy council, can ask advice from the privy council. For example: “the relevance of the monarchy is in its contribution to its tradition” or “as the power of the state gets more diffuse in a European and global context, there is a need for someone who manifests unity and continuity”. In other words, the queen asks herself by way of the privy council what the government should think about her, and the monarchy.

So the next time your hear the prime minister say that the monarchy provides us with continuity, stability and identity, you’ll know it is because the queen told him so.

Translated from a Dutch language article, “Form and Function”, originally published at ProRepublica. In recent months the Dutch Ambassador to Thailand has made numerous public statements about lese majeste laws. More on Dutch republicanism is available here.

Justin Thomas McDaniel, Gathering Leaves and Lifting Words: Histories of Buddhist Monastic Education in Laos and Thailand. Seattle and London, University of Washington Press, 2008. pp. xiii + 358.

Reform of Theravada Buddhism occurred in different parts of Southeast Asia in different circumstances at different times. In Burma reform started in the late eighteenth century with the enforcement of strict ordinations and the strengthening of an ecclesiastical hierarchy. The same process began in Siam in the middle of the nineteenth century and continued into the early twentieth with new curricula for the education of monks. Cambodian Buddhism experienced similar changes under French colonial rule, drawing inspiration from what was taking place in Siam. Across the region, including Ceylon, the encounter with Western travellers, diplomats and missionaries provoked a re-examination of monastic practice rather than doctrine. The impulse was fundamentalist, a return to orthodoxy and the Buddhist canon. Many indigenous Buddhist thinkers were intent on eliminating superstitious elements from the religion. They sought to proselytise a rational worldview that even today sees Buddhism as compatible with Western science.

Such is the conventional story of Theravada Buddhist modernism, but Justin McDaniel, the author of Gathering Leaves and Lifting Words: Histories of Buddhist Monastic Education in Laos and Thailand, is not having it, or at least, he is not having all of it. He finds this account of Buddhist modernism misleading in its elitism and ignorant of how Buddhism was actually taught in monasteries, especially in the villages and more remote parts of the region. After studying Pali at a village monastery on the Thai Lao border and too many years at American universities studying Buddhism and a dizzying number of European and Asian languages, including Pali and Sanskrit, all of which he uses effortlessly, McDaniel came to the conclusion that most of what Buddhists teach other Buddhists in mainland Southeast Asia is not canonical. Indeed, some monastic teachers, while they may be effective instructors, do not even know Pali.

To make his case, McDaniel begins by sketching a history of northern Siam distinct from Ayudhya and Bangkok. Speaking sometimes of only Siam and sometimes of Siam and Laos together, he tells the story in two ways, first as religious history centred on Lanna, the northern Tai kingdom, which had been a hub of Buddhist learning since the sixteenth century. The Buddha images and relics in Chiang Mai attracted charismatic teachers and students from afar. The comings and goings of so many monks through its monasteries and academies gave the city the feel of a single campus. Even today students from southern China, Burma and parts of Laos come to northern Thailand to study. The knowledge stored in the manuscript collections of northern monasteries is secular as well as religious, with medical and protective texts bound with grammars and ritual guides. Training of monk-teachers was not systematic, and the teaching materials were not standardised. The evidence points to an informal educational setting that valued individual initiative and the idiosyncratic approaches specific to each teacher.

The second strand of the history tells of the centralized government’s encroachment that detached ruling elites from their local roots. The history textbooks refer to the integration of the far-flung provinces into a centralised system, a process whose most famous monastic opponent in the north was Khruba Siwichai, but resistance was mostly passive. McDaniel calls the process ‘internal colonialism’, a ‘takeover’ by Siam of the northern kingdom of Lanna which was culturally and economically more connected to the Lao lands to the east and to the Shan country to the north and west than to the Siamese in the south. Most historians have shied away from wholly embracing the concept of internal colonialism, while agreeing that the late nineteenth-century reforms cannily made use of Western colonial practices in order to subordinate or marginalise local rulers. My own sense is that internal colonialism is not, or not yet, a critical concept used widely for dismantling the modernising dynastic narrative in Thai historical writing.

In religious affairs the Sangha Law of 1902 marked the culmination of the new arrangements by creating an ecclesiastical administration with monastic heads of monthon, provinces, districts and sub-districts, all appointed by Bangkok to parallel the civil administration. But the royal reform of Buddhist education that this administrative infrastructure was supposed to guarantee was limited in most places, and not very modern. When he looks at the examination system introduced in the early twentieth century McDaniel finds little difference from the texts used by King Rama II (r. 1809-1824), and when he studies the curriculum as a monk he does not recognise any influence of the Buddhist educational reforms of a century earlier. He bluntly sums up this revisionist view by saying that ‘these reforms were not actually implemented in any significant way’ (106). Many, if not most, monastic teachers have not taken part in the reforms imposed by the Thai monastic and secular elites. McDaniel identifies a stratum of educational activity and pedagogical practice largely untouched by national planning and educational policy.

Students and teachers engage in ‘languaging’ Pali, taking old texts and reshaping them in contemporary contexts. This awkward neologism, coined by the philologist and linguist Alton Becker, refers to the discussion of words and phrases that accompanies the practice of translation. A more successful and insightful category is curricula, which McDaniel seizes on as a keyword for understanding what really goes on between teacher and student in the classroom. When he is studying at the northern Lao monastery, McDaniel is surprised to discover that his Pali and Sanskrit classes do not help him very much. Monastic education in northern mainland Southeast Asia turns out not to be about memorising or studying the Buddhist canon, which often lies locked away in forlorn splendour, but about interpreting words, teasing out meanings, and tracing etymologies from the commentarial literature, not from the canon. The monk-teachers create their own curricula by ‘gathering palm-leaf manuscripts’ and ‘lifting words’ (yok sap). They translate and gloss words, worrying over the correspondences between the Pali and the vernacular. The activity of interpreting the texts and learning how to be a Buddhist involves aesthetic and behavioural matters as much as skill in reading, what one thinker in the field calls ‘action-oriented pedagogy’. Texts are discussed orally in a rich sensory atmosphere conjured up by images, murals, incense, and candles. The lecturer may interrupt the proceedings by shifting his feet or coughing or spitting betel juice. He may end his lecture abruptly because he is too tired.

McDaniel’s logocentric methodology suits the three genres of texts used to teach Buddhism: nissaya, namasadda, and vohara. Indeed, namasadda, which are filled with marginalia, corrections, and emendations, literally means word-book or glossary. Nissaya are ‘supports’, notes for telling stories, giving sermons, or explaining instructions. Vohara lift words and phrases from seemingly ancient texts and contextualise them in a sermon delivered in the vernacular. These three genres, which draw on words and passages from canonical as well as extra-canonical origin and which lie somewhere between vernacular and classical texts, served as outlines for sermons and lectures that were expanded in performance. The informality of the teaching method, the lack of ‘originality’, and a non-standardised curriculum were strengths of the pedagogy, not flaws.

McDaniel wants to do away with a scholarly paradigm which pits the translocal canon against local knowledge. He wants to break down a fixed idea of canon. Teachers’ notebooks are filled with vernacular versions of local Buddhist histories, extra-canonical stories of the Buddha’s life (jataka), incantations for protection (paritta), and folktales. If a text is presented in an aesthetically proper form, it will be seen as canonical. For rural teachers and students, all Buddhist texts are canonical. As he works his way through the manuscripts, it becomes clear that the Buddhist canon is fluid and open, a work in progress.

Important books lead to new questions. Are the habits of mind engendered by learning in this particular way relevant only to religion? Or are these habits of mind applicable to solving problems in other spheres of human affairs? Given the expenditure of human energy in religious education over hundreds of years and the numbers of men trained in this way, one can imagine that the techniques of languaging had an impact beyond the monasteries. Many of these monks disrobed and went out into the world, and the way religious truth was encoded in the manuscripts and then decoded and interpreted by teachers shaped how these men thought and lived their lives.

Rather like the Buddhist commentarial literature with which McDaniel has spent so much time, there is something untidy and informal about the book. One chapter ends suddenly in exasperation: ‘I am getting ahead of myself here…. That is enough said for now’ (91). Buddhism values mobility and pilgrimage which promote nonattachment, and the author wanders through his material like a thudong monk, sometimes looping back to revisit a favourite point and clarify his grasp of it. Everywhere his erudition is evident. One footnote runs for an entire page, and the numerous references to works in Asian and European languages may be daunting to the novice. But in a refreshing departure from most first books, McDaniel does not feel compelled to nail down every sentence with a citation. He is not afraid to throw out ideas based on slender evidence, inviting other scholars to take issue with him or to pursue the matter with their own materials and methods. Authoritative but not territorial, Justin McDaniel is generous with his knowledge and his hunches.

Reviewed by Craig J. Reynolds

Published originally on New Mandala, 7 February 2010

That could not be further from the truth – Malaysia is a basket case, plain and simple. It has been that way for some time now. It’s a country slowly waiting for its demise.

For now, let’s focus on the Anwar trial. It is all about destroying the credibility of Malaysia’s most charismatic opposition leader (and possible future Prime Minister). Anwar is currently the only individual that can hold the opposition coalition together and mount a serious challenge to UMNO. The trial is about exhausting and demoralising the opposition leader and the coalition he leads through expensive and time consuming legal battles.

The Australian Financial Review published an excellent article that put into context the sodomy trial but also analysed Anwar Ibrahim’s strategy since the 8 March, 2008 General Election where the opposition claimed a historic win (in a system where denying the ruling party 2/3 majority in Parliament is a win). The article paints a fair picture of the only man now capable of transforming Malaysia.

The Wall Street Journal  and the New York Times did pieces which considered the implications of the trial for democracy in Malaysia. Without a doubt, Anwar Ibrahim has the support of the international media and rightly so.  That the case was ever brought to trial demonstrates how far the country has regressed since Independence especially during the Mahathir era. The Lowy Institute has a nice piece that captures in summary the damage Mahathir did.

Australians have shown plenty of interest in Anwar’s new trial; although most other embassies have sent officers to observe the trial too.  Michael Danby, Federal Member for Melbourne Ports and Foreign Affairs Committee Chair, weighed in on the issue. His speech was supportive of Anwar and critical of the ruling party. However, the speech seemed a little incoherent. In the first paragraph, Mr. Danby accuses the Malaysian government of using democratic institutions for its own vested interests but concludes in the last paragraph, “…I hope that the Prime Minister, Najib and his ministers are not involved…”.

It appears that ASEAN regimes do not give up power easily – whether it is an illegal military junta in Burma, an illegal but elite, military backed government in Thailand, monarchies such as Brunei and Singapore (I’ll laugh if you tell me otherwise), banana cases in the rest of Southeast Asia with the exception of Indonesia – which is probably the only country that is heading in the right direction.

Notwithstanding Obama and Rudd’s praise – Malaysia is no different.  Malaysia’s story is similar to the “Chronicle of a Death Foretold.” The government has decided that Anwar must “die”. Will Malaysians stand-by and become willing participants to this “murder” or will Malaysians change the ending of this story.  Only time will tell.

Update 05/02/2010: Barry Wain has provided his view on the Anwar Trial via this article in The Age.

Update 07/02/2010: The influential Washington Post ran an op-ed describing how important Anwar Ibrahim’s trial is to the “West”

The legal showdown between Ms Suu Kyi and her brother comes as the SPDC is preparing to hold a controversial election later this year…Ms Suu Kyi herself, whose house arrest was extended last year after a US citizen swam across Inya Lake to her house uninvited, has given no public hint of how she regards the legal challenges mounted by her brother. It can be assumed, given all the other extaordinary privations of her life, that it is a source of great sorrow and indignation…

- Extracted from Andrew Buncombe, “Aung San Suu Kyi, a leaking roof, and the brother who won’t let her fix it”, The Independent, 4 February 2010.