Cultural revolution in Thailand

29 August 196

At a recent seminar, a leading Thai intellectual compared "Thai culture" to a detergent. Both are packaged up for easy consumption. But with detergents there is a choice of brands. And the consumer has a chance to say what he or she thinks about the product, as seen in many detergent adverts.

There is a cultural revolution under way. It has been brewing for at least a decade, but now is reaching a critical phase. The roots of this revolution lie in the experience of the Chinese immigrants into Thailand.

Most urban families have some Chinese origins. There are no exact figures, but very few could claim to have no immigrant ancestor. Most are second or third generation descendants of the million plus migrants who arrived between the 1920s and the 1940s.

The rulers welcomed these migrants as long as they abandoned their Chinese culture and "became Thai". That meant giving up Chinese names, Chinese schooling, and the use of Chinese language in public.

It also meant accepting a particular package of Thai culture, with three main parts. First, Thais are the main branch of a big racial family scattered across southeast Asia. Second, Thai history revolves around the successive kingdoms of Sukhothai, Ayutthaya and Bangkok. Third, Thai culture is a mix of the royal and the rural - the arts and rituals of the court, and the crafts and beliefs of the peasant.

This package left no room for other race origins, other histories, and for the whole urban cultural tradition. It is this package which the cultural revolution is out to overthrow.

For many decades, most Chinese immigrants were happy to buy this package as the price of their admission to Thailand. After all, other countries in the region demanded higher prices and tougher terms. Indeed, many Thai-Chinese were so pleased with the deal that they became enthusiastic supporters of Thai culture. A lot took personal pride in the story of Thai origins and history, even though their own origins were elsewhere.

Some even went on to crusade for the "Thai" nation against the threat posed by the "Chinese". Wichit Wadakan wrote up the Thai race mythology and campaigned for a "Thai economy for the Thai people". Phya Anuman Rajadhon documented Thai cultural practice. Sulak Sivaraksa defended Thai traditions against the modern world. Chai-anan Samudavanija analysed the special character of Thai political traditions. All had Chinese origins.

For many decades, Thailand’s rulers suppressed anything Chinese. Mainly they were worried about the import of Chinese politics, particularly during the communist era. As the Cold War softened and dissolved, so did this fear. In the 1970s, some leading figures started to rediscover their Chinese origins. The great academic and administrator, Puey Ungphakorn, said he was proud of his Chinese ancestry. The politician and artist, Kukrit Pramoj, recognised that he had a Chinese grandmother. But at this stage, there was nothing aggressive about these claims. Puey emphasised that he was first and foremost a Thai. Kukrit remained unmistakeably a traditional Thai aristocrat.

In 1986, Nidhi Aeuisrivong wrote a history of Taksin, the king of Thonburi whose 14-year reign immediately preceded the 1782 foundation of Bangkok. Taksin had been virtually written out of the standard histories, and was said to have gone mad. Nidhi made clear that Taksin was Chinese by origin; claimed that Taksin was a great man; and portrayed him as a liberal and enlightened ruler whose "madness" was probably a historical invention by those who overthrew him.

Nidhi’s Taksin was an attack on the official version of Thai culture. Moreover, Nidhi presented the whole book as a manifesto for granting more recognition to the role of the Chinese in Thai history. He argued that there was a specific culture of the Chinese-in-Thailand. To distinguish Chinese-in-Thailand from Chinese-in-China he used the word "jek". Until then, "jek" had been a slang and sneering term for Chinese immigrants (rather like "chink").

Around the same time, Sujit Wongthes described Thai culture as "jek bon lao", Chinese immigrant mixed with Laotian. He claimed he couldn’t make head or tail of the official version of Thai society, history and culture. As far as he could see, the two biggest elements in the demography and the culture were Chinese immigrants and Laotian peasants.

The use of the word "jek" by Nidhi and Sujit was shocking and challenging. The official version of Thai culture simply blotted out the Chinese immigrants, their large numbers, their extraordinary history, their big contribution to modern Thailand. Nidhi implied that any version of Thainess which ignored the "jek" was incomplete, wrong, and offensive to a lot of people.

Over the last ten years, this "jek tendency" has spread. Now it includes not only revisionist historians like Nidhi, but students of urban culture, economists who concentrate on the city and ignore the countryside, and political scientists who analyse Bangkok society. At a recent government-sponsored conference on new directions among Thai intellectuals, the "jek tendency" was clearly dominant, and the attack on "Thainess" very strong. Kasian Tejapira said he felt "raped" by Thainess. Nidhi compared Thainess to "a product that doesn’t sell".

At another conference run by the Fine Arts Department, the historian Charnvit Kasetsiri noted that history in the universities had become turgid and boring, but outside academia, history was controversial and fascinating. Drawing a deep breath, he added that "jek history" was especially exciting and important.

This is all heady intellectual stuff. But the same trends are running through popular culture too. The biggest hit TV drama series of the early 1990s was Lord Lai Mangkorn (the pattern of the dragon). The plot traced one immigrant entrepreneur from Chinatown street smart in the 1940s to successful tycoon and dynast in the 1980s. The story was a thinly-veiled mix of the real history of some of Bangkok’s well-known families. Millions of viewers found echoes in their own personal histories. Dramatised on prime-time TV, watched by millions, discussed by critics, and talked about by everyone, the series established the jek in the popular version of Thailand’s modern history and culture.

Just a few weeks ago, in another TV series Mongkut Dok Som (the bridal crown), the first-generation immigrant characters talked to one another in Chinese, with the Thai translation run as subtitles. A few years ago, such realism would have been unthinkable. Now it makes it a bit easier for the Thai-Chinese to take pride in their history.

It is not difficult to see what is driving this trend. The urban economy, driven by the Thai-Chinese, is rampant. Mainland China is no longer a political threat but a great economic opportunity.

Around the world, globalisation has provoked a resurgence of local identities. In Thailand, this reaction is taking special form, moulded by Thailand’s special history. Some descendants of the immigrant Chinese are complaining that the official version of Thai history and culture has simply blotted them out. But they are not trying to dig out a "Chinese" identity. Rather they want to rehabilitate the history of the Chinese-in-Thailand. They are very happy they came to Thailand. They want some recognition for the contribution they have made. They want to redefine "Thai culture" as something more like the melting pot which it really is. "A society which is powerful", wrote Nidhi, "allows variety in ways of life and values. The jek add to the cultural richness of Thai society."