Chavalit: agent of harmony or division?

24 September 1997

Until last week, Chavalit had presented himself to the nation as the great unifier, the master of reconciliation, the one man who could bridge all the divisions in Thai society.

His election campaign started by reminding us of his great feats of reconciliation in the past. He helped formulate the amnesty which brought the communists out of the jungle. He led the military campaign to smooth sensibilities between Buddhist Thai and Muslim Malay in the south. He launched the Green Northeast project to narrow the income gap between the poorest region and the rest.

Here was a man who could bring together rich and poor, city and village, left and right.

He had built his New Aspiration Party in this image. Many of the early recruits were ex-military men and retired bureaucrats. But through the early 1990s, Chavalit broadened this base. He contacted businessmen, intellectuals, academics, NGO workers, pressure groups. He recruited from across the political spectrum. Several businessmen joined. So did some veterans of the radical politics of 1973-6. By 1996, the party included both ex-generals and ex-communists who years earlier had faced one another across the cold war divide.

In his opening speech as premier, he laid claim to represent the whole of society. Previous premiers had helped only the rich, but "I will also be responsible to the poor and the middle class". He came back time and again to the idea of a national government which would bridge political divisions. Only a few weeks ago, he said: "I view myself as a central link that brings about harmony in society".

Chavalit’s rhetoric appealed to a neo-traditional view of Thai society based on order, unity and harmony. Each element has its place in the social order. Unity is achieved when each element respects the rights and claims of the others. The role of government is to correct any imbalances, and to counter any excessive claims. For many years, the army has expressed its political role within this vision.

Last week Chavalit abandoned this message. Dramatically.

In his speech from the steps of Government House on the 17th September, Chavalit divided Thai society between "them" and "us", city and village.

He contrasted the villagers who are "driven by love" with the city people who are "smeared with materialism". He identified himself with the sentiment that "poverty is a bad thing", in opposition to the "snobbish" attitude of the city. Subsequently he has blamed city profligacy for the economic crisis.

So far, this was vintage Chavalit. In his speeches and writings of the early 1980s, he blamed the social divisions and political instability of Thailand on the excessive profiteering of business. But now he went a step farther.

In the speech, Chavalit first painted cityfolk as people who had come from village origins but lost their way: "they have forgotten that they were us".

But then he changed tack completely: "Thai people own this country and allow others to share the land. But when this second group of people loses benefits and doesn’t get what it wants, they make noise."

The meaning, while not explicit, was perfectly clear. This "second group" of "others" are those of Chinese origin. Chavalit had resurrected the old division between a real Thailand of native villagers, and an urban society of immigrant Chinese and their descendants.

Finally he added on a touch of true nationalist militancy: "They want to destroy this land. I want to see my people rise up to protect our country."

Resentment of the immigrant Chinese has been one of the recurring themes of Thai politics for a century. But it has never been a permanent thrme. It comes and goes with the tides of mood and political expediency. It tends to recur at times of economic pressure and political strain. From the 1930s to the 1950s, it was a major theme of the nationalist ideology espoused by military politicians. But over the last few decades, as no new immigration has occurred and as China has been transformed from threat to ally, this nationalism has faded.

Probably the last appearance of this theme at the highest level of politics occurred a generation ago. But there is a historical strand which links that occasion to Chavalit.

In November 1971, the military premier Thanom Kittikachorn overthrew the constitution, dissolved parliament, banned political parties, and established himself as the dictatorial head of a National Executive Council. He was under pressure from parliament, and also from the early stirrings of the student movement. To justify the coup, he claimed the Chinese-backed insurgency was growing, and the loyalty of three million Thai-Chinese was a concern.

In his first few weeks as premier, Chavalit secretly signed an order to grant an army pension to Thanom’s son, Narong Kittikachorn, who had been discharged from the army for his role in the 1973 massacre of students. When a public backlash forced Chavalit to back down, Narong raised the nationalist issue: "I live in Thailand and I am a Thai, but I don’t know who opposed my pension." His daughter took the theme further: "I’ve learn’t they [1973 student protesters] later became communists and came back to become teachers. I wonder if they are Thais."

Chavalit has tried to represent the spirit of social reconciliation which followed one from the divisive violence of the 1970s. No more cold war ideology. No more crude ethnic nationalism. But under pressure, he has reverted to a simpler, darker strand in Thai military ideology.

Under the umbrella of social harmony, Chavalit appealed to a broad conservative lobby. What happens to this lobby now? His financiers and bag-men, inside and outside the party, are mostly of Chinese origin. His military allies, who are already straining to douse the fires set by the constitution issue, are unlikely to appreciate this new nationalist militancy. His young front-men are visibly embarrassed by this outburst.

Maybe the picture is more eloquent than the words. Chavalit delivered the speech flanked by one man, Snoh Thienthong. Just weeks earlier, Snoh had also burrowed back into the past to discover communists behind support for the constitution.

On the eve of a new constitution which promises to haul Thai politics into the future, these two have retreated into the dark corners of the political past.