Despite the heat and humidity in Hanoi this week, I haven't been dissuaded from taking long daily walks in the city, sometimes for as long as three to five miles. It's the best way to get oriented in a new place, to get the lay of the land, and it's the best way to absorb what the various neighborhoods and their streets have to offer.
Over the past few days I have taken this golden opportunity to photograph two or three central city neighborhoods on my rounds.
My hotel is in the Old Quarter which is a great place to start. On this link you can find a typical walking tour marked on a map of the Old Quarter:
http://www.vietnamonline.com/destination/hanoi/old-quarter-walking-tour.html
In this vibrant, colorful neighborhood, which is the old city center, are hundreds of hotels, hostels, restaurants, coffee shops, noodle stands, bakeries, convenience stores, mom and pop stores, clothing stores, shoe stores, hardware stores, souvenir shops, cellphone shops, electronics shops, authorized Apple retailers, other computer retailers, a nightly night bazaar of several blocks length, a traditonal "wet" market, a beautiful park and lake, and a few notable cultural attractions.
The Old Quarter has almost no traffic lights, so car and motorbike traffic make their way through intersections in a fascinating ballet of weaving and waving. Drivers here drive much slower than their counterparts in other countries, so this surreal system seems to work without too much disaster.
Just to the southeast of the Old Quarter is the French Quarter, which at first glance appears to be more of the same, but soon you notice that the streets are wider, the tree-lined boulevards are more glamorous, the French architecture is better-preserved, and the new buildings are taller and bigger. There are also many more traffic lights.
Here you find supermarkets, luxury brand stores, independent boutique shops, a higher class of hotels and restaurants, and brand-name Western fast food outlets such as KFC and Burger King. And yet sometimes there is less than meets the eye: a closer look inside a "supermarket" revealed a post-communist example of a western concept that has yet to find its strengths here. The shelves were filled, true, but compared to the big box stores of Thailand, this supermarket seemed like something straight out of 1989 East Germany.
Just to the west/northwest of the Old Quarter is the capital city's newer administrative center. Here the boulevards are even wider, with yet more trees, and bigger parks line large sections of the area. Several five-way intersections abound, managed by traffic light or roundabout, and here you can see traffic police at work.
This is a neighborhood of big city squares, large government buildings, several foreign embassies including Thailand, Poland, Romania, and Canada, and big monuments to important historical figures such as a statue of Vladimir Illych Lenin (quite possibly one of the last in the world!), and here too is the gigantic Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.
The latter two landmarks have a way, I noticed as I was taking photos, of making this usually bright and colorful city appear almost Stalinist grey and drab. And yet I was impressed by their size and the huge spaces surrounding them where families gather late in the afternoon, together with their children and friends, for sports such as badminton and football, jogging, biking, skateboarding, and tai chi.
Monday, July 7, 2014
How Much Is It?
My knowledge of the Vietnamese language is nil as is English to many of the people I meet here on the street in Hanoi, but we all understand money--as long as we have a common denominator to value it.
But even simple amounts can be confusing here. Today's rate of the U.S. dollar to the Vietnamese dong is 21,263.02 dong per $1.00.
That means I pay, at 20,000 dong per cup, just a little less than a dollar for the excellent Vietnamese coffee the shops in my neighborhood serve.
You can check this page to see tomorrow's dong/dollar rate, and so on:
https://www.google.com.vn/?gfe_rd=cr&ei=qUm6U_f0OMSJ8Qee2oHwAw#q=vietnam+dong+us+dollar+rate
Check out this page to see Vietnam's colorful plastic banknotes, all of which feature Ho Chi Minh's visage:
https://www.google.com.vn/search?q=vietnamese+currency&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=YEi6U6DfHIal8AWd8YHoBw&sqi=2&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1024&bih=639#q=vietnamese+currency+images&tbm=isch
All I have to do to become a "gosh dong millionaire" is change $50 in greenbacks. At today's rate I'd pull in around 1, 063,151.18 dong.
But when I took a moto taxi to a location not very far from my hotel and I asked the driver how much, he said "Five." At first I took this to mean 5000 dong (about 25 cents), but then I knew that sometimes the Vietnamese will indicate price with one finger for each 10,000 dong (50 cents) requested.
So did my driver mean 50,000 dong ($2.50)? This seemed like a reasonable price for the distance. But still I wasn't sure.
"Five what?" I asked.
"Five dollars, " he said cheerfully. In other words, he wanted more than 100,000 dong. This seemed to be far too much money for the service.
"How much in dong?" I asked him.
"One hundred five thousand," he said. I asked him if he could give me a discount. "I'll take you for 100,000," he said.
When I asked the desk at my hotel how much was the cost of one of my loads of laundry, after some intricate calculations, I was told "Two point six dollar." How much was that in dong? "A little more than 50,000", I was told.
Sometimes prices on fixed-price items such as restaurant menu selections and convenience store goods will indicate however many K, as in 20K for a 1.5 liter bottle of water or soft drink, 23K for a bag of chips, etc.
The items on the menu at a good, medium-priced restaurant on my corner run from 50K for Vietnamese food to 150K for some Western-oriented dishes like burgers and fries. This can get confusing sometimes. Somehow I have a hard time remembering that 100 grand in dong is just $5, so 200 grand is $10.
Anything that approaches 400,000 dong in cost ($20) seems so expensive here, I can't even conceive of it.
I asked for my hotel bill yesterday, and the final, itemized invoice read 3,896,136 dong. That's close to 4 million dong! Or how many dollars? I'm scratching my head in confusion here. Should I run out to the ATM and withdraw the cash, or should I settle it up with a credit card?
It bears pointing out, by the way, that the smallest Vietnamese banknote is a 1000 dong note.
When I produced my credit card to pay the hotel bill, I was asked: "Do you want us to indicate payment in dollars or dong?" I said dollars would be fine (and much less confusing for me!).
After another brief calculation, I was shown the dollar figure: $183.78 for a week's hotel room plus incidentals.
That's a bargain in any currency!
But even simple amounts can be confusing here. Today's rate of the U.S. dollar to the Vietnamese dong is 21,263.02 dong per $1.00.
That means I pay, at 20,000 dong per cup, just a little less than a dollar for the excellent Vietnamese coffee the shops in my neighborhood serve.
You can check this page to see tomorrow's dong/dollar rate, and so on:
https://www.google.com.vn/?gfe_rd=cr&ei=qUm6U_f0OMSJ8Qee2oHwAw#q=vietnam+dong+us+dollar+rate
Check out this page to see Vietnam's colorful plastic banknotes, all of which feature Ho Chi Minh's visage:
https://www.google.com.vn/search?q=vietnamese+currency&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=YEi6U6DfHIal8AWd8YHoBw&sqi=2&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1024&bih=639#q=vietnamese+currency+images&tbm=isch
All I have to do to become a "gosh dong millionaire" is change $50 in greenbacks. At today's rate I'd pull in around 1, 063,151.18 dong.
But when I took a moto taxi to a location not very far from my hotel and I asked the driver how much, he said "Five." At first I took this to mean 5000 dong (about 25 cents), but then I knew that sometimes the Vietnamese will indicate price with one finger for each 10,000 dong (50 cents) requested.
So did my driver mean 50,000 dong ($2.50)? This seemed like a reasonable price for the distance. But still I wasn't sure.
"Five what?" I asked.
"Five dollars, " he said cheerfully. In other words, he wanted more than 100,000 dong. This seemed to be far too much money for the service.
"How much in dong?" I asked him.
"One hundred five thousand," he said. I asked him if he could give me a discount. "I'll take you for 100,000," he said.
When I asked the desk at my hotel how much was the cost of one of my loads of laundry, after some intricate calculations, I was told "Two point six dollar." How much was that in dong? "A little more than 50,000", I was told.
Sometimes prices on fixed-price items such as restaurant menu selections and convenience store goods will indicate however many K, as in 20K for a 1.5 liter bottle of water or soft drink, 23K for a bag of chips, etc.
The items on the menu at a good, medium-priced restaurant on my corner run from 50K for Vietnamese food to 150K for some Western-oriented dishes like burgers and fries. This can get confusing sometimes. Somehow I have a hard time remembering that 100 grand in dong is just $5, so 200 grand is $10.
Anything that approaches 400,000 dong in cost ($20) seems so expensive here, I can't even conceive of it.
I asked for my hotel bill yesterday, and the final, itemized invoice read 3,896,136 dong. That's close to 4 million dong! Or how many dollars? I'm scratching my head in confusion here. Should I run out to the ATM and withdraw the cash, or should I settle it up with a credit card?
It bears pointing out, by the way, that the smallest Vietnamese banknote is a 1000 dong note.
When I produced my credit card to pay the hotel bill, I was asked: "Do you want us to indicate payment in dollars or dong?" I said dollars would be fine (and much less confusing for me!).
After another brief calculation, I was shown the dollar figure: $183.78 for a week's hotel room plus incidentals.
That's a bargain in any currency!
Sunday, July 6, 2014
English Language Vietnamese Paper Bores to Tears
At newsstands around the Old Quarter there are plenty of Vietnamese language publications to enjoy with breakfast, but so far I've found nothing in English.
In my traveling career, the best bet for American journalism overseas has been the International Herald Tribune which was once co-published by the New York Times and the Washington Post.
The IHT still exists but only online here.
The paper version has been recently re-branded as the International New York Times and it's available in most major cities around the world including Bangkok where it's sold for 80 baht ($2.50).
I'm sure I'd be able to find the INYT in Hanoi at maybe one or two specialized shops such as English language bookstores, but as for finding it on my usual rounds, forget it. . .
This reminds me of my admittedly limited experience with Communist countries over the years. On my day trip through Berlin's Checkpoint Charlie to visit East Berlin in December 1983--at the height of the Cold War--I wasn't in the market for a Western newspaper, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have found the IHT even if I'd been looking for it.
Besides, it was easily available just over the Wall in West Berlin where I was staying.
My only other experience with Communist media was in Laos, a nation which is linguistically and culturally a cousin of Thailand but which is politically and philosophically tied to Vietnam.
As I recall, the Lao Peoples' Democratic Republic's government was so secretive in my day that it didn't even have a Lao language newspaper for sale. Whenever I entered the Lao PDR for a visa run or a trip down the Mekong from Thailand, I was entering a virtual news-free zone.
Occasionally one could find a week-old copy of the Bangkok Post, but that would've been a very lucky day.
These days you can read the Vientiane Times here.
Back in Hanoi this year, after some googling around, I found the Vietnam News online. Today's top story reads like a Central Committee memo with the headline "Nation pushed to achieve higher growth" as it outlines a Party plan to reach annual economic growth targets of 8%-9%.
Other headlines and text reveal that "Venezuela becomes strategic ally", "Voter ask PM to take tough stance on East Sea (the South China Sea)", "President praises fishermen for conducting peaceful fight", and "China has broken its promise".
OMG! Is this all the Vietnam News has to offer its loyal farang readers? Pretty much, I'm afraid. You really have to dig for something that doesn't completely bore one to tears, such as this item:
http://vietnamnews.vn/learning-english/256905/meet-ha-nois-music-mechanic.html
But my all-time favorite communist media outlet has to be KCNA, the official news agency of the Korean Workers' Party of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, also known as North Korea.
Here is a fascinating piece about the recent visit of a Vietnamese delegation to Mangyongdae:
http://www.kcna.co.jp/index-e.htm
In my traveling career, the best bet for American journalism overseas has been the International Herald Tribune which was once co-published by the New York Times and the Washington Post.
The IHT still exists but only online here.
The paper version has been recently re-branded as the International New York Times and it's available in most major cities around the world including Bangkok where it's sold for 80 baht ($2.50).
I'm sure I'd be able to find the INYT in Hanoi at maybe one or two specialized shops such as English language bookstores, but as for finding it on my usual rounds, forget it. . .
This reminds me of my admittedly limited experience with Communist countries over the years. On my day trip through Berlin's Checkpoint Charlie to visit East Berlin in December 1983--at the height of the Cold War--I wasn't in the market for a Western newspaper, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have found the IHT even if I'd been looking for it.
Besides, it was easily available just over the Wall in West Berlin where I was staying.
My only other experience with Communist media was in Laos, a nation which is linguistically and culturally a cousin of Thailand but which is politically and philosophically tied to Vietnam.
As I recall, the Lao Peoples' Democratic Republic's government was so secretive in my day that it didn't even have a Lao language newspaper for sale. Whenever I entered the Lao PDR for a visa run or a trip down the Mekong from Thailand, I was entering a virtual news-free zone.
Occasionally one could find a week-old copy of the Bangkok Post, but that would've been a very lucky day.
These days you can read the Vientiane Times here.
Back in Hanoi this year, after some googling around, I found the Vietnam News online. Today's top story reads like a Central Committee memo with the headline "Nation pushed to achieve higher growth" as it outlines a Party plan to reach annual economic growth targets of 8%-9%.
Other headlines and text reveal that "Venezuela becomes strategic ally", "Voter ask PM to take tough stance on East Sea (the South China Sea)", "President praises fishermen for conducting peaceful fight", and "China has broken its promise".
OMG! Is this all the Vietnam News has to offer its loyal farang readers? Pretty much, I'm afraid. You really have to dig for something that doesn't completely bore one to tears, such as this item:
http://vietnamnews.vn/learning-english/256905/meet-ha-nois-music-mechanic.html
But my all-time favorite communist media outlet has to be KCNA, the official news agency of the Korean Workers' Party of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, also known as North Korea.
Here is a fascinating piece about the recent visit of a Vietnamese delegation to Mangyongdae:
http://www.kcna.co.jp/index-e.htm
Rough Guide to Vietnam/Hanoi
Here's an excerpt from the Rough Guide to Vietnam and its take on the city of Hanoi:
By turns exotic, squalid, gauche and hip, the high-octane Vietnamese capital of Hanoi provides a full-scale assault on the senses. Its crumbly, lemon-hued colonial architecture is a feast for the eyes; swarms of buzzing motorbikes invade the ear, while the delicate scents and tastes of delicious street food can be found all across a city that – unlike so many of its regional contemporaries – is managing to modernize with a degree of grace. Despite its political and historical importance, and the incessant noise drummed up by a population of over six million, Hanoi exudes a more intimate, urbane appeal than Ho Chi Minh City.
Hanoi city centre comprises a compact area known as Hoan Kiem District, which is neatly bordered by the Red River embankment in the east and by the rail line to the north and west, while its southern extent is marked by the roads Nguyen Du, Le Van Huu and Han Thuyen. The district takes its name from its present-day hub and most obvious point of reference, Hoan Kiem Lake, which lies between the cramped and endlessly diverting Old Quarter in the north, and the tree-lined boulevards of the French Quarter, arranged in a rough grid system, to the south. West of this central district, across the rail tracks, some of Hanoi’s most impressive monuments occupy the wide open spaces of the former Imperial City, grouped around Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum on Ba Dinh Square and extending south to the ancient walled gardens of the Temple of Literature. A vast body of water confusingly called West Lake sits north of the city, harbouring a number of interesting temples and pagodas, but the attractive villages that once surrounded it have now largely given way to upmarket residential areas and a smattering of luxury hotels.
Modern Hanoi has an increasingly confident, “can do” air about it and a buzz that is even beginning to rival Ho Chi Minh City. There’s more money about nowadays and the wealthier Hanoians are prepared to flaunt it in the ever-more sophisticated restaurants, cafés and designer boutiques that have exploded all over the city. Hanoi now boasts glitzy, multistorey shopping malls and wine warehouses; beauty parlours are the latest fad and some seriously expensive cars cruise the streets. Almost everyone else zips around on motorbikes rather than the deeply untrendy bicycle. The authorities are trying – with mixed success – to temper the anarchy with laws to curb traffic and regulate unsympathetic building projects in the Old Quarter, coupled with an ambitious twenty-year development plan that aims to ease congestion by creating satellite towns. Nevertheless, the city centre has not completely lost its old-world charm nor its distinctive character.
Hanoi, somewhat unjustly, remains less popular than Ho Chi Minh City as a jumping-off point for touring Vietnam, with many making the journey from south to north. Nevertheless, it provides a convenient base for excursions to Ha Long Bay, and to Sa Pa and the northern mountains, where you’ll be able to get away from the tourist hordes and sample life in rural Vietnam. There are also a few attractions much closer at hand, predominantly religious foundations such as the Perfume Pagoda, with its spectacular setting among limestone hills, and the spiral-shaped citadel of Co Loa, just north of today’s capital. The Red River Delta’s fertile alluvial soil supports one of the highest rural population densities in Southeast Asia, living in bamboo-screened villages dotted among the paddy fields. Some of these communities have been plying the same trade for generations, such as ceramics, carpentry or snake-breeding. While the more successful craft villages are becoming commercialized, it’s possible, with a bit of effort, to get well off the beaten track to where Confucianism still holds sway.
By turns exotic, squalid, gauche and hip, the high-octane Vietnamese capital of Hanoi provides a full-scale assault on the senses. Its crumbly, lemon-hued colonial architecture is a feast for the eyes; swarms of buzzing motorbikes invade the ear, while the delicate scents and tastes of delicious street food can be found all across a city that – unlike so many of its regional contemporaries – is managing to modernize with a degree of grace. Despite its political and historical importance, and the incessant noise drummed up by a population of over six million, Hanoi exudes a more intimate, urbane appeal than Ho Chi Minh City.
Hanoi city centre comprises a compact area known as Hoan Kiem District, which is neatly bordered by the Red River embankment in the east and by the rail line to the north and west, while its southern extent is marked by the roads Nguyen Du, Le Van Huu and Han Thuyen. The district takes its name from its present-day hub and most obvious point of reference, Hoan Kiem Lake, which lies between the cramped and endlessly diverting Old Quarter in the north, and the tree-lined boulevards of the French Quarter, arranged in a rough grid system, to the south. West of this central district, across the rail tracks, some of Hanoi’s most impressive monuments occupy the wide open spaces of the former Imperial City, grouped around Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum on Ba Dinh Square and extending south to the ancient walled gardens of the Temple of Literature. A vast body of water confusingly called West Lake sits north of the city, harbouring a number of interesting temples and pagodas, but the attractive villages that once surrounded it have now largely given way to upmarket residential areas and a smattering of luxury hotels.
Modern Hanoi has an increasingly confident, “can do” air about it and a buzz that is even beginning to rival Ho Chi Minh City. There’s more money about nowadays and the wealthier Hanoians are prepared to flaunt it in the ever-more sophisticated restaurants, cafés and designer boutiques that have exploded all over the city. Hanoi now boasts glitzy, multistorey shopping malls and wine warehouses; beauty parlours are the latest fad and some seriously expensive cars cruise the streets. Almost everyone else zips around on motorbikes rather than the deeply untrendy bicycle. The authorities are trying – with mixed success – to temper the anarchy with laws to curb traffic and regulate unsympathetic building projects in the Old Quarter, coupled with an ambitious twenty-year development plan that aims to ease congestion by creating satellite towns. Nevertheless, the city centre has not completely lost its old-world charm nor its distinctive character.
Hanoi, somewhat unjustly, remains less popular than Ho Chi Minh City as a jumping-off point for touring Vietnam, with many making the journey from south to north. Nevertheless, it provides a convenient base for excursions to Ha Long Bay, and to Sa Pa and the northern mountains, where you’ll be able to get away from the tourist hordes and sample life in rural Vietnam. There are also a few attractions much closer at hand, predominantly religious foundations such as the Perfume Pagoda, with its spectacular setting among limestone hills, and the spiral-shaped citadel of Co Loa, just north of today’s capital. The Red River Delta’s fertile alluvial soil supports one of the highest rural population densities in Southeast Asia, living in bamboo-screened villages dotted among the paddy fields. Some of these communities have been plying the same trade for generations, such as ceramics, carpentry or snake-breeding. While the more successful craft villages are becoming commercialized, it’s possible, with a bit of effort, to get well off the beaten track to where Confucianism still holds sway.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Congratulations to Costa Rica!
Here's a little shout out to my student M and his Costa Rican heritage: congratulations on the Costa Rican team's historic performance at the World Cup!
The valiant Central American nation's football team thrilled its fans when it reached its first World Cup quarter final match with European powerhouse the Netherlands.
I caught the first half of the scoreless draw last night but fell asleep and missed the disappointing penalty shoot-out at the end.
Holland out-shot the Ticos 4-3 to end Costa Rican hopes, but it was a wild ride just same. . .
http://www.theguardian.com/football/blog/2014/jul/04/world-cup-2014-five-things-costa-rica
The valiant Central American nation's football team thrilled its fans when it reached its first World Cup quarter final match with European powerhouse the Netherlands.
I caught the first half of the scoreless draw last night but fell asleep and missed the disappointing penalty shoot-out at the end.
Holland out-shot the Ticos 4-3 to end Costa Rican hopes, but it was a wild ride just same. . .
http://www.theguardian.com/football/blog/2014/jul/04/world-cup-2014-five-things-costa-rica
Complexities of the Thai Political Situation
I have wanted to post a piece for my readers explaining some of the complexities of the current Thai political situation, but I didn't want to post something so publicly while I was still in Thailand, under martial law and the attendant uncertainties of being present for this latest of many Thai military interventions.
Trying to make sense of recent developments is also greatly complicated by issues related to the monarchy, in general, and to the question of succession to the throne in particular.
Since the September 2006 coup, which ousted the controversial yet democratically-elected prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, various Thai regimes--both military and civilian--have made liberal use of the nation's strict lese majeste laws. These measures, also known as the 112 laws for the number of the pertinent article in the Thai criminal code, have been used to stifle all national debate about Thailand's aging and ailing King Bhumiphol Adulyadej and his important role in various political crises over the years.
For that reason alone I hesitate to publish much about what I know regarding the last decade or so of Thai political development because I don't want to end up on a Thai blacklist and be barred from entering the country.
Since the bloody events of May 2010, when an army-backed civilian government led by Democrat Party leader and prime minister Abhisit Vejjajiva turned its guns on so-called Red Shirts supporters of Mr Thaksin's party, killing perhaps 100 people in the process, I have read as much as I can online, in the newspapers, in news magazines, and in books, about Thailand's fragile democracy and the struggles of ordinary people to be represented by their own chosen leaders.
The story of Thaksin's rise and fall, and the roots of that story, go back 20-25 years to the period when I made Thailand my temporary home.
To simplify the story somewhat, let me backtrack to 1997. By that year Thailand had had five years of different civilian government following another major crisis, the Black May events of 1992.
Black May was a middle-class protest by Bangkok yuppies and students against the attempt by another junta chief, Suchinda Krapayoon, to appoint himself head of an unelected civilian government.
Former Bangkok governor and army major general Chamlong Srimuang was a major leader of these protests which ended when the army opened fire on the protesters, killing at least 100 people but possibly another several hundred more.
After Black May Thai politicians and leaders of the military, the bureaucracy, and the palace began a long, strenuous process of political reform which culminated in 1997 with the promulgation of the so-called "People's Constitution". Most of my friends and many others from across the spectrum of Thai society welcomed this major reform because it marked the first time in Thai history that ordinary people had some say in the writing of their nation's basic law.
Out of this development came Thaksin, a self-made billionaire telecommunications tycoon and the richest man in Thailand, who bankrolled his own party, Thai Rak Thai (Thais Love Thais), which won the most parliamentary seats in an early 2001 election.
Thaksin became the first Thai prime minister in history to finish a full four-year term. His tenure was marked by unprecedentedly populist policies such as the One Tambon One Product (OTOP) scheme which aimed to promote one product for every provincial subdistrict in the country; and the 30-baht doctor visit scheme, effectively a universal health care program which brought affordable doctor and clinic visits to millions of rural people.
Like many Thai leaders, however, Thaksin displayed a nasty authoritarian side, too, with his murderous "war on drugs" in 2002 which unleashed police forces nation-wide who gunned down accused drug dealers in an orgy of extra-judicial killing that left two to three thousand people dead in less than three months.
Human rights groups, however, accused the police of killing many people--including innocent men, women, and children--who had nothing at all to do with the lucrative illegal drug trade. Indeed, it's no secret in Thailand that some of the biggest drug lords in the country are powerful elite figures from the police, the military, and civilian political circles.
Despite this carnage, however, Thaksin remained so popular with ordinary people--especially from the north and northeastern regions of the country--that not only did he finish his four-year term but also he and his party were re-elected in a landslide victory in early 2005.
Behind the scenes, however, Thai leaders in the army, the bureaucracy, and the palace--the traditional triumvirate of Thai power--were becoming increasingly nervous about Thaksin's popularity. Indeed, several NGOs from the 1992-1997 period who had been very active in the anti-military democracy movement of Black May and the People's Constitution were now beginning to regret what they had helped to unleash.
Those people had come to see Thaksin as an old-style Thai dictator who used vote-buying at the ballot box and populist post-election policies to maintain a monopoly on political power.
Others were also starting to fear that Thaksin, with some of his behind-the-scenes maneuvering, was planning to usurp the monarchy, establish a republic, and become something like a "president for life".
One such group, the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD) led by another wealthy tycoon, Sondhi Limthongkul, began staging anti-Thaksin government protests in early 2006.
When PAD protesters, also known as the Yellow Shirts, refused to recognize Thaksin's legitimacy in the wake of his historic 2006 landslide victory, his own supporters began to rally on his behalf under the banner of the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship (UFDD), an umbrella group for various pro-government supporters who became known as the Red Shirts.
By the time of my August 2006 visit, Bangkok was divided down the middle by these more-or-less permanent protest camps, and one strange incident in the news caught my attention that month: an army staff sergeant was arrested while cruising through Thaksin's Bangkok neighborhood in an army vehicle which was loaded with grenades and other explosive materials.
Police--who were known generally to be an important Thaksin power base, Thaksin himself having been a former police captain--accused the army sergeant of casing Thaksin's home and taking part in an assassination plot under orders from a murky, mysterious army faction.
Just a month later, the army stepped in and ousted Thaksin in the first coup in 15 years. Many people, including the king, quickly endorsed this move. Thaksin immediately left Thailand for a lengthy self-imposed exile in Dubai and Great Britain.
In full disclosure, I was also a reluctant supporter of this coup because I was sickened by the police violence Thaksin instigated in 2002. I also believed that the main opposition party in parliament, the 60-year-old Democrat Party led by the young Oxford-educated Abhisit Vejjajiva, was the cleaner of the two major parties, Thaksin's party having been filled with some of the most corrupt politicians of the previous decade and a half.
The aftermath of the 2006 coup marked the commencement of eight years of unrelenting political divide between the Red Shirts, who broadly represented Thaksin supporters but also other groups and NGOs in favor of free speech, poverty alleviation, farmers' rights, land reform, rural "upcountry" matters, blue-collar workers, and similar causes and issues; and the Yellow Shirts, who broadly represented the Bangkok middle-class, white-collar workers, the massive Thai government bureaucracy, certain army factions, certain palace factions, and other urbanized, educated elites.
By May 2010, Abhisit's Democrats were in power, but the Red Shirts refused to recognize his government because essentially it was an unelected regime appointed and backed by certain army leaders. When Red Shirt leaders refused to stop their mass protests, Abhisit ordered (or was himself ordered to order) security forces to intervene. Another minor bloodbath ensued and martial law was declared.
Another round of elections was called, and eventually Thaksin's sister Yingluck Shinawatra became Thailand's first woman prime minister after her party, widely understood to be funded by her still-exiled brother, won the 2011 elections.
What these elections have illustrated--indeed, what all elections in Thailand since 2001 have shown--is that only Thaksin or Thaksin-backed parties and candidates can win Thai elections.
And since 2006, the only way an anti-Thaksin party or politician can gain power is through the barrel of an army-backed gun. And a vicious political cycle turns, and turns again.
The Yingluck government lasted just a little over two years. But vigorous protests by the Yellow Shirts insisted that she was only a Thaksin clone, doing Thaksin's bidding, and therefore hers was an illegitimate government, even if she and her party had been duly elected in a free and fair ballot.
The Yellow Shirts refused to end their protests until another "more legitimate", appointed government could be installed to represent "all Thai people", not just the rural poor and upcountry people from the northern and northeastern regions of the country.
The Red Shirt counter-protesters set up permanent camps in the capital, insisting that the Yellow Shirts should go home, that they only represented the urbanized Bangkok elites, and that they would always resort to making backroom deals with various army leaders in order to cling to power illegitimately.
By early 2014 these two permanent protest camps in Bangkok had brought conventional politics, the Thai parliament, and the elected government to a virtual standstill. Both sides were reportedly resorting, as they had in 2010, to low-level incidents of violence including random grenade strikes, bombings, and targeted assassinations. Fears were high in some circles that Thailand was about to descend into civil war.
In turn, the low-level violence was having a very negative effect on Thai business and the overall economy. Current estimates indicate that the economy contracted by as much as 2%-3% in the first quarter of this year.
And the economy wasn't helped by the negative perception of foreigners who began to pull money out of investments and began canceling vacation visits to the kingdom in alarming numbers. This was a very ill omen in a country that depends upon tourism for as much as 10% of its GDP.
Therefore, when the Thai army announced its declaration of martial law on May 20, just as I was preparing to board my Hanoi-bound flight from Chicago, and when just two days later they announced the formation of the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO, or Khor Sor Chor in Thai) to replace the luckless Yingluck government, I was sad for Thailand and its people, but hardly surprised.
Yet another cycle begins: the NCPO announces that elections will be held in September 2015. A Thaksin-funded party led by a Thaksin-backed surrogate will win by a landslide. The PAD and its supporters will cry foul and say the election was illegitimate. The Red Shirts and their supporters will rally behind the elected government, claiming that the PAD only represents Thailand's grimy backroom politics and is therefore illegitimate. Low-level violence will once again ensue, businesses will get nervous again, tourists will cancel their holiday trips, and plenty of educated Thai people will again call for a military leader who can break the semi-permanent political impasse and "get things done again for the further development of Thai-style democracy".
Trying to make sense of recent developments is also greatly complicated by issues related to the monarchy, in general, and to the question of succession to the throne in particular.
Since the September 2006 coup, which ousted the controversial yet democratically-elected prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, various Thai regimes--both military and civilian--have made liberal use of the nation's strict lese majeste laws. These measures, also known as the 112 laws for the number of the pertinent article in the Thai criminal code, have been used to stifle all national debate about Thailand's aging and ailing King Bhumiphol Adulyadej and his important role in various political crises over the years.
For that reason alone I hesitate to publish much about what I know regarding the last decade or so of Thai political development because I don't want to end up on a Thai blacklist and be barred from entering the country.
Since the bloody events of May 2010, when an army-backed civilian government led by Democrat Party leader and prime minister Abhisit Vejjajiva turned its guns on so-called Red Shirts supporters of Mr Thaksin's party, killing perhaps 100 people in the process, I have read as much as I can online, in the newspapers, in news magazines, and in books, about Thailand's fragile democracy and the struggles of ordinary people to be represented by their own chosen leaders.
The story of Thaksin's rise and fall, and the roots of that story, go back 20-25 years to the period when I made Thailand my temporary home.
To simplify the story somewhat, let me backtrack to 1997. By that year Thailand had had five years of different civilian government following another major crisis, the Black May events of 1992.
Black May was a middle-class protest by Bangkok yuppies and students against the attempt by another junta chief, Suchinda Krapayoon, to appoint himself head of an unelected civilian government.
Former Bangkok governor and army major general Chamlong Srimuang was a major leader of these protests which ended when the army opened fire on the protesters, killing at least 100 people but possibly another several hundred more.
After Black May Thai politicians and leaders of the military, the bureaucracy, and the palace began a long, strenuous process of political reform which culminated in 1997 with the promulgation of the so-called "People's Constitution". Most of my friends and many others from across the spectrum of Thai society welcomed this major reform because it marked the first time in Thai history that ordinary people had some say in the writing of their nation's basic law.
Out of this development came Thaksin, a self-made billionaire telecommunications tycoon and the richest man in Thailand, who bankrolled his own party, Thai Rak Thai (Thais Love Thais), which won the most parliamentary seats in an early 2001 election.
Thaksin became the first Thai prime minister in history to finish a full four-year term. His tenure was marked by unprecedentedly populist policies such as the One Tambon One Product (OTOP) scheme which aimed to promote one product for every provincial subdistrict in the country; and the 30-baht doctor visit scheme, effectively a universal health care program which brought affordable doctor and clinic visits to millions of rural people.
Like many Thai leaders, however, Thaksin displayed a nasty authoritarian side, too, with his murderous "war on drugs" in 2002 which unleashed police forces nation-wide who gunned down accused drug dealers in an orgy of extra-judicial killing that left two to three thousand people dead in less than three months.
Human rights groups, however, accused the police of killing many people--including innocent men, women, and children--who had nothing at all to do with the lucrative illegal drug trade. Indeed, it's no secret in Thailand that some of the biggest drug lords in the country are powerful elite figures from the police, the military, and civilian political circles.
Despite this carnage, however, Thaksin remained so popular with ordinary people--especially from the north and northeastern regions of the country--that not only did he finish his four-year term but also he and his party were re-elected in a landslide victory in early 2005.
Behind the scenes, however, Thai leaders in the army, the bureaucracy, and the palace--the traditional triumvirate of Thai power--were becoming increasingly nervous about Thaksin's popularity. Indeed, several NGOs from the 1992-1997 period who had been very active in the anti-military democracy movement of Black May and the People's Constitution were now beginning to regret what they had helped to unleash.
Those people had come to see Thaksin as an old-style Thai dictator who used vote-buying at the ballot box and populist post-election policies to maintain a monopoly on political power.
Others were also starting to fear that Thaksin, with some of his behind-the-scenes maneuvering, was planning to usurp the monarchy, establish a republic, and become something like a "president for life".
One such group, the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD) led by another wealthy tycoon, Sondhi Limthongkul, began staging anti-Thaksin government protests in early 2006.
When PAD protesters, also known as the Yellow Shirts, refused to recognize Thaksin's legitimacy in the wake of his historic 2006 landslide victory, his own supporters began to rally on his behalf under the banner of the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship (UFDD), an umbrella group for various pro-government supporters who became known as the Red Shirts.
By the time of my August 2006 visit, Bangkok was divided down the middle by these more-or-less permanent protest camps, and one strange incident in the news caught my attention that month: an army staff sergeant was arrested while cruising through Thaksin's Bangkok neighborhood in an army vehicle which was loaded with grenades and other explosive materials.
Police--who were known generally to be an important Thaksin power base, Thaksin himself having been a former police captain--accused the army sergeant of casing Thaksin's home and taking part in an assassination plot under orders from a murky, mysterious army faction.
Just a month later, the army stepped in and ousted Thaksin in the first coup in 15 years. Many people, including the king, quickly endorsed this move. Thaksin immediately left Thailand for a lengthy self-imposed exile in Dubai and Great Britain.
In full disclosure, I was also a reluctant supporter of this coup because I was sickened by the police violence Thaksin instigated in 2002. I also believed that the main opposition party in parliament, the 60-year-old Democrat Party led by the young Oxford-educated Abhisit Vejjajiva, was the cleaner of the two major parties, Thaksin's party having been filled with some of the most corrupt politicians of the previous decade and a half.
The aftermath of the 2006 coup marked the commencement of eight years of unrelenting political divide between the Red Shirts, who broadly represented Thaksin supporters but also other groups and NGOs in favor of free speech, poverty alleviation, farmers' rights, land reform, rural "upcountry" matters, blue-collar workers, and similar causes and issues; and the Yellow Shirts, who broadly represented the Bangkok middle-class, white-collar workers, the massive Thai government bureaucracy, certain army factions, certain palace factions, and other urbanized, educated elites.
By May 2010, Abhisit's Democrats were in power, but the Red Shirts refused to recognize his government because essentially it was an unelected regime appointed and backed by certain army leaders. When Red Shirt leaders refused to stop their mass protests, Abhisit ordered (or was himself ordered to order) security forces to intervene. Another minor bloodbath ensued and martial law was declared.
Another round of elections was called, and eventually Thaksin's sister Yingluck Shinawatra became Thailand's first woman prime minister after her party, widely understood to be funded by her still-exiled brother, won the 2011 elections.
What these elections have illustrated--indeed, what all elections in Thailand since 2001 have shown--is that only Thaksin or Thaksin-backed parties and candidates can win Thai elections.
And since 2006, the only way an anti-Thaksin party or politician can gain power is through the barrel of an army-backed gun. And a vicious political cycle turns, and turns again.
The Yingluck government lasted just a little over two years. But vigorous protests by the Yellow Shirts insisted that she was only a Thaksin clone, doing Thaksin's bidding, and therefore hers was an illegitimate government, even if she and her party had been duly elected in a free and fair ballot.
The Yellow Shirts refused to end their protests until another "more legitimate", appointed government could be installed to represent "all Thai people", not just the rural poor and upcountry people from the northern and northeastern regions of the country.
The Red Shirt counter-protesters set up permanent camps in the capital, insisting that the Yellow Shirts should go home, that they only represented the urbanized Bangkok elites, and that they would always resort to making backroom deals with various army leaders in order to cling to power illegitimately.
By early 2014 these two permanent protest camps in Bangkok had brought conventional politics, the Thai parliament, and the elected government to a virtual standstill. Both sides were reportedly resorting, as they had in 2010, to low-level incidents of violence including random grenade strikes, bombings, and targeted assassinations. Fears were high in some circles that Thailand was about to descend into civil war.
In turn, the low-level violence was having a very negative effect on Thai business and the overall economy. Current estimates indicate that the economy contracted by as much as 2%-3% in the first quarter of this year.
And the economy wasn't helped by the negative perception of foreigners who began to pull money out of investments and began canceling vacation visits to the kingdom in alarming numbers. This was a very ill omen in a country that depends upon tourism for as much as 10% of its GDP.
Therefore, when the Thai army announced its declaration of martial law on May 20, just as I was preparing to board my Hanoi-bound flight from Chicago, and when just two days later they announced the formation of the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO, or Khor Sor Chor in Thai) to replace the luckless Yingluck government, I was sad for Thailand and its people, but hardly surprised.
Yet another cycle begins: the NCPO announces that elections will be held in September 2015. A Thaksin-funded party led by a Thaksin-backed surrogate will win by a landslide. The PAD and its supporters will cry foul and say the election was illegitimate. The Red Shirts and their supporters will rally behind the elected government, claiming that the PAD only represents Thailand's grimy backroom politics and is therefore illegitimate. Low-level violence will once again ensue, businesses will get nervous again, tourists will cancel their holiday trips, and plenty of educated Thai people will again call for a military leader who can break the semi-permanent political impasse and "get things done again for the further development of Thai-style democracy".
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