Tongue Thai-ed
In Thailand, civic life is suffering under the junta’s tight grip
Opposition is getting harder
“I’LL never win, no matter how reasonable I am,” go the words of “Dictator Girl”, a song by a Thai pop band called Tattoo Colour.
Their music video depicts a hapless man following the 44 rules of a tyrannical woman in a not-so-subtle allusion to life under Thailand’s military junta. “Even if I know, I’ll say I don’t. I don’t have any opinions,” the cringing crooners add.
While the song may inspire laughter, Section 44 of the country’s interim constitution, which has been in effect since July 2014, does not. It gives the junta and Prayuth Chan-ocha, a former general who serves as Thailand’s prime minister, power to stop and suppress “any act which undermines public peace and order or national security, the monarchy, national economics or administration of state affairs”.
Having been one of South-East Asia’s freest countries two decades ago, Thailand is now among the region’s most repressive.
Since its introduction, Section 44 has been invoked more than 150 times. A constitution adopted a little over a year ago allows the junta to keep using the legislation until a new government is formed after a general election due to take place next year.
Other statutes ban gatherings of more than five people, prevent critics of the regime from travelling and allow civilians to be tried in military courts for sedition. Computer-crime regulations curb online activity.
And more than 100 people have been arrested under lèse-majesté laws since the junta took power. More than half of them are now either awaiting trial in prison, or serving jail terms for peccadilloes such as “liking” things on Facebook deemed by the junta to be offensive to the royal family. (At the time of the coup in May 2014, just six were behind bars for lèse-majesté.)
The persecuted include activists, journalists, academics and even formerly powerful politicians. On August 25th the prime minister who was ousted by the junta in 2014, Yingluck Shinawatra, is expected to receive the verdict of a court that has been trying her for incompetence in a rice-subsidy scheme which cost the government around $16bn (she is pictured after one of this month’s hearings). A possible ten-year prison sentence hangs over her.
Spreading fear
Many Thais object to punishing Ms Yingluck. The freezing of her bank accounts in recent months inspired an outcry. Yet her allies may hesitate to create a big fuss if she is found guilty. After a few hundred supporters gathered to present Ms Yingluck with roses before a court appearance in July, many of them, including Wattana Muangsuk, a former minister of commerce, were threatened with arrest.
The junta says 4,000 police officers will be deployed at the court to ensure order when the verdict is announced.
How such events are portrayed in newspapers and on the airwaves is closely controlled in Thailand. In the coup’s aftermath, 14 satellite-television stations and around 3,000 local radio stations were shut down temporarily, as was access to international satellite-television transmissions.
Broadcasting was allowed to resume on the condition that political issues were glossed over. A proposed media bill would make reporting without a proper licence punishable by three years in jail. The government is drafting guidelines on journalistic fairness and accuracy. Tellingly, big media groups are refusing to co-operate with this project.
Intrepid reporters suffer harassment. Pravit Rojanaphruk was twice detained arbitrarily at military bases for his articles—he tells of dark cells and six-hour interrogations. Mr Pravit now faces sedition charges because of his social-media posts criticising the government.
Such heavy-handed tactics can backfire. Mr Pravit reckons he got 6,000 new followers on Twitter after officers locked him up the first time. “Things are worse now than after the coup in 2006. I didn’t have any trouble with the military then,” he says. Citing a proverb, he adds: “But now they slaughter the chicken to teach the monkey an example.”
One professor says avoiding trouble requires self-censorship and what he calls “a good sense of navigation”. Some still decide to take risks. Earlier this month a group of students and academics from Chiang Mai University were summoned to a police station after they held up signs at a conference stating “An academic forum is not a military camp”.
But many are scared by the government’s threats. After spinning classes in a chic area of Bangkok, young professionals shuffle in their cleats when asked about the ruling regime.
A few protests continue over issues that are less political in nature. In rural areas, activists vent rage at the lax application of environmental laws. Earlier this year a plan to build a coal-fired power station near Krabi, a tourist hub far south of Bangkok surrounded by azure waters, was in effect abandoned by the prime minister after protesters brought their grievances all the way to the capital. (At least ten were arrested nonetheless.)
Seven women in Loei province bordering Laos face possible fines or prison for gathering to protest against the proposed expansion of an open-pit copper and gold mine. Tara Buakamsri of the Thai chapter of Greenpeace, an NGO, says the political situation makes work difficult for organisations such as his that engage in public campaigning. Even organising events related to air pollution can prove controversial.
The suppression of civic life bodes ill for Thailand’s democratic prospects. Even if the thrice-delayed general election is held, politicians will be fearful of expressing themselves openly and challenging the junta’s policies.
“Political parties are supposed to respond to the people, there has to be a process of interaction,” says Chaturon Chaisang, a minister for education under Ms Yingluck.
With his accounts frozen, passport revoked and facing trumped-up charges in both civil and military courts, Mr Chaturon still remains optimistic in one way. The longer the junta is in power, he says, the more popular they are making the opposition.
Source: The Economist