The twilight of the godfathers?

8 June 1996

Is the ugly death of Chaisiri Ruangkanchanaset just another in along line of grisly endings for Thailand’s provincial godfathers? Or does it foretell the end of an era in provincial politics?

The godfathers first rose to prominence a quarter of a century ago. They were made by rising provincial prosperity, coupled with weak or non-existent law enforcement.

The godfathers made money from a heady cocktail of legal, semi-legal, and plainly criminal business. At one end they had crop dealerships, petrol pumps, transport companies, gravel quarries, and all the other types of mainstream business in the provincial towns. At the other they ran underground lotteries, casinos, smuggling rings, sex businesses. In the middle they had businesses which were technically legal but which generated much larger profits if operated with a greater flair - like land speculation, whisky distribution, hotels, government contracting, and logging.

Thailand’s military rulers of that era contributed to the rise of the godfather. The military strongmen liked to cultivate powerful friends in the provinces, and cared little where they got their money. The godfathers in turn decorated their houses with pictures of themselves hobnobbing with their powerful military contacts. These icons sered as warning to policemen or other small fry who might have ideas about challenging the way they did business. "I was a poor man before and did not have much education", explained one of the most successful godfathers of all, "so whatever I do I have to rely on friends and connections in politics".

The godfathers created a gangsterish milieu. They patronised gangs of friend to run their businesses. They scattered largesse around the local police and officials. They hired gunmen and enforcers.

The godfathers had become so distinctive, they deserved a special term. They were dubbed the jao phor. The phrase was a direct translation of god-father, and may have first been used to translate the title of the Hollywood film. It was also the term for a local spirit lord with extraordinary powers. Both types of jao phor seemed to operate above and beyond the law.

By the time electoral politics rose in importance in the 1980s, the godfathers were firmly in a position to dominate them. They had money. They had lots of friends and dependants to act as canvassers. They had even more people in their debt. Many, like Chaisiri, were lofted up to parliament. Some others preferred to play the role of kingmaker in the background. A few became so important to electoral success across several provinces that they were made officials of the major political parties. When the police asked provincial officials all over the country to name their local jao phor, the list contained over 40 MPs.

But while some of the godfathers learned how to strut the national stage, and even talk earnestly about "democracy" and "development", in the background there was always the smell of blood and gunpowder.

Most godfathers had at the least a bullet-proof car. One went further and had a bullet-proof desk. He survived at least one hit by diving behind it when his enemies opened up through the front door. Some like Sia Leng of Khon Kaen have survived a series of assassination attempts. Others have fallen to assaults by weaponry superior to standard bullet-proofing.

Sia Jiew of Chonburi died in 1991 when his Mercedes was blown off the Bangkok-Pattaya road by a rocket-launcher. Sia Yai of Angthong was blown up by in 1989 a claymore mine on the steps of a provincial court house. In 1991, Klaeo Thavikul’s car was riddled with automatic gunfire in the Bangkok suburbs.

These were just the more spectacular. In between came a steady stream of bodies dumped by roadsides, right-hand men blasted with Uzis at the regular morning coffee-stall, bombs in cocktail lounges and discos, relatives who disappeared without trace.

Investigating these killings always turned out the same way. The victims had so many business interests, so many potential enemies, so many reasons to be killed, that it was impossible to find a culprit.

But there are signs that the age of the godfathers is on the wane.

When these killings began in the 1970s, the academic Ben Andersen pointed out that such people were being killed because they were important. Chaisiri’s killing is shocking in part because such events have become rarer in the last few years.

Partly this may be simply exhaustion. "I used to have enemies", said one prominent figure in 1990, "but all of them have died." But there are other forces at work.

The extradition of Thanong Siriprichapong to stand trial on drug-running charges in the US was the first time a figure of such stature had been hauled back within the law. The godfathers no longer seemed quite so invulnerable.

At the last elections, many of the biggest godfathers decided not to stand. Some like Chaisiri stood and lost. Chaisiri had also lost his grip on municipal politics in his own backyard.

When Banharn rose to the premiership, many predicted a Cabinet studded with old godfathers. But so far, Banharn has managed to keep them out.

What is forcing these changes?

The profits of crime are no longer such a large fraction of provincial wealth. More people now make money by more legitimate means. The decline of the military strongmen and better understanding of the secret ballot have made elections less susceptible to old styles of control. Public opinion, crystallised by press and television, has set limits to what is publicly acceptable.

But if the old style of godfather is in decline, is there maybe a new style rising in their place? A new style which knows how to manipulate land deeds rather than guns; which knows more money can be made from the stock market than the underground lottery; which can claim to make quick millions by doing "nothing illegal".

Chang Noi says: this may be the twilight of the old godfathers, but watch out for other evil spirits lurking in the gloom.