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Friday, April 20, 2007

Cinematic Narratives in Hero: Primordial Father and Assassins

By Pandit Chanrochanakit

I. Introduction
This paper begins with questions on what message Hero,1 a film by Zhang Yimou, conveys to its audience and how the story operates to convey this message. The message is really a simple idea of “peace under one ruler,” but the ways it presents the unification of China through cinematic narrative is fascinating.

The national imaginary portrayed in Hero is of an archaic China in the midst of turmoil during a period of fighting among seven independent kingdoms. Qin, leader of the Qin kingdom, finally defeats his enemies to become supreme ruler of China. However, a number of assassins want to kill him, including Nameless, Sky, Broken Sword, and Flying Snow. Nameless wants revenge because Qin destroyed his “country,” Zhao. Nameless studied swordsmanship to achieve his goal of killing Qin. However, after meeting Broken Sword, an assassin who has decided to forgo his mission, Nameless decides not to kill Qin. Instead, he sacrifices himself for the ideology of “peace under one ruler.”

This paper attempts to interpret cinematic narrative of Hero and investigating how it contextualizes the story. The paper uses Slavoj Zizek’s Lacanian cinematic materialism to examine the idea of unification under one ruler. The investigation reveals that homoeroticism is working in the film to convince the audience of the importance of a primordial father, as represented by Qin's relationships with his would-be assassins, Sky, Broken Sword, and Nameless. Flying Snow represents a stain on the dominant male discourse; she therefore has to die in the film. This paper concludes that the ideals of unification and "peace under one ruler" are ways in which some Asians, director Zhang Yimou in this case, resist the Western Gaze on Asian politico-cultural practices. Hero convinces its audience that peace under one ruler is worth any sacrifice.

II. Colorization in Hero

William E. Connolly points out that film is an intersection between cinematic techniques and a critical story. Techniques are a kind of micropolitics, an “organized combination of sound, gesture, word, movement and posture through which affectively imbued dispositions, desires and judgments become synthesized.” 2 The micropolitics, as introduced by Connolly, help the audience understand how a film works or operates and what kind of ethic is promoted in a film. The micropolitics in Hero operates through colorization. “Colorization” originally meant tinting black and white film. But in my treatment, colorization means creating turning color film into a monotone. This is unlike Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List or Saving Private Ryan, that were deliberately shot in black and white film. Hero uses color film, but shoots scenes that are constructed in monotone, specifically in following the narratives of Nameless and Qin.

Hero can be separated into six acts. The color of each act plays a crucial role in creating a sense of place. Different moods are also set by using the colors black, red, blue, white, and green. As in Akira Kurosawa’s Rashomon, in which each protagonist describes the same event from a different perspective, in Hero, the narratives of different stories become a form of negotiation between Qin and the assassins. Each of these narratives is divided by color.

The stories told in Hero are depicted within a large frame or vast landscape unless a fighting scene needs a close-up shot. The landscape in Hero represents the homeland of everyone under the Qin kingdom. The royal palace of Qin is at the center of Hero. People’s identities are embodied in their behaviors, especially that of the assassins, who are all people of Zhao. We can see in the third act that the people of Zhao are characterized as appreciating calligraphy, which represents their deep scholarly roots. Rather than taking up martial arts or inventing weapons, they practice calligraphy until the last moments of their life. Ironically, all of the assassins are people from Zhao.

The first act depicts gloomy gray clouds over a valley rushing with chariots and cavalrymen. This scene presents China in turmoil and unrest. The terrain depicts China in drought, a vast field under gray cloud, but does not locate a specific place in China.

The second act, rendered in red tones, depicts scenes in the Zhao kingdom. We cannot tell how far Zhao is from the Qin kingdom to Zhao, but we can see Zhao’s vast landscape. The film shows crowds of foot soldiers and archers moved freely from place to place. There are no long marching scenes, but we also see Qin’s invincible artillery.

Nameless narrates different stories of how he crushed other assassins, starting with Sky. The duel between Nameless and Sky is described in detail to convince Qin that Nameless is a mighty warrior. We find later that the duel is made up. The scene is set in black, representing sadness and Nameless’ intention to kill Qin.

In the third act, Nameless tells Qin how he overcame Broken Sword and Flying Snow, two assassins that had almost finished their mission. These scenes are again rendered in red, representing jealousy, lust, desire, anger, and falsehood. Nameless tells Qin that he took Sky’s spear and traveled to Zhao, where he showed the spear to Flying Snow and Broken Sword. Flying Snow loves Broken Sword, but kills him because she him betraying her by making love to his maid. She also has intimate feelings for Sky, and wants to revenge him by killing Nameless. Nameless takes advantage of Flying Snow's weakness at hearing the bad news of Sky's death to kill her.

Qin finds out that Nameless lied to him about killing the two assassins. The color turns to blue in the fourth act, representing royalty, as Qin then tells his story. Qin valued Broken Sword and Flying Snow as self-respecting warriors who would never have committed the acts told by Nameless. He interprets Nameless' story as a conspiracy among the assassins to achieve their goal. Because Nameless’ skill with the sword is limited to within ten paces, he needs to get closer to Qin by hunting Broken Sword and Flying Snow. Qin believes Nameless had to convince them of his plan and his ability to carry it out.

In the fifth act, Nameless hesitates to kill Qin. The real story, revealed by Nameless, shows that Qin underestimated Broken Sword, who has persuaded Nameless to abandon the mission. The color turns into white, representing mourning, sadness, illumination, and purity. The story tells why Broken Sword abandoned his mission and why Nameless hesitated. Qin is delighted by Broken Sword’s words “All under Heaven,” meaning he has understood Qin’s ideal of a united China. Qin even lets Nameless have his sword so that he can make the decision whether or not to accomplish his mission. In the last act, the color turns black again when Nameless sacrifices himself for his ultimate goal, peace under one ruler.

According to Connolly, the micropolitics of colorization helps set the stage for macropolitical action by the audience. 3 The macropolitics of Hero, I assert, is the ideal of “peace under one ruler,” represented through the conversation between Qin and Nameless. This conversation is the only experience that the audience observes. All of the conversation between Qin and Nameless is colored black. The monotones of each act creates a color-blind effect in the sense that everyone and every object in that scene is the same shade. The audience is forced to perceive the particular messages being given by the colors; the audience is thus colonized by these messages.

III. Lack of Being
This section discusses Slavoj Zizek’s concept of the “lack of being.” 4 Zizek examines film using a Lacanian interpretation which focuses on the primordial father, the phallus, sacrifice, and jouissance or lack. 5 Zizek investigates the idea of the Thing, which appears within the diegetic space of cinematic narrative. The Thing emerges in different forms (e.g., alien, rock, robot) in various films. The gigantic buffalo in The White Buffalo, for instance, represents the primordial father as a sacred Native American animal. The buffalo is used to portray the wild and natural discourse of America which was disrupted by Capitalism, represented by the hunting of the white buffalo.6

In Titanic, the gigantic ship represents the phallus disrupted by intercourse between Jack and Rose, who are from two different economic classes. The sinking of the Titanic is punishment for disrupting the natural order of human society. 7

Zizek uses the notion of jouissance, or lack, to mean that people are convinced they are missing something. Sacrifice, on the other hand, means to fulfill the lack of the other. 8 These two notions can be used to explain the cinematic narratives of Hero.

The film begins with the appearance of the assassin, Nameless. He is searched for weapons before being allowed to attend a ceremony in honor of the new emperor. Nameless is a low ranking officer of Qin who has already accomplished his mission of killing assassins who threaten Qin. Later, we learn that Nameless is himself a war orphan from Zhao who wants revenge on Qin for destroying Zhao. His non-name shows that he has no real identity, and also represents his lack of a father. When Nameless encounters Qin, he cannot kill him because of he has discovered a primordial father, the founder of a nation. His lack of a phallus is represented by his self-sacrifice for his primordial father’s ideal.

Broken Sword represents the impotent phallus. Both his name “Broken Sword” and failure to kill Qin show that he is sexually impotent. Even though the film actually shows him having sexual intercourses with Moon and Flying Snow, these stories are told through Nameless’ words and Qin’s imagination. His thick, broken sword not only connotes his sexual impotence but also his inability to kill the primordial father. In addition, he persuades Nameless to abort his mission.

Broken Sword expresses male intimacy towards Nameless when he draws on the desert ground the words “All under Heaven," enabling Nameless to look through his eyes. When Nameless encounters Qin, he has already abandoned his goal of assassination.

Of the assassins, Flying Snow has the strongest commitment to killing Qin. Qin had killed her father, a Zhao general of Zhao. Flying Snow’s jouissance is to kill the primordial father. Her support of Nameless is outweighed by Broken Sword’s influence, since he and Nameless share the ideal of peace under one ruler. Flying Snow thus becomes a stain on their homoerotic male relationship and she needs to be eliminated.9 This story operates similarly to Solaris, when the reappearance of Harey disrupts the norm of the idea that “woman merely materializes a male fantasy.” 10 In Hero, the male fantasy is the unification of China. As a stain, Flying Snow must die to preserve the fantasy.

Qin is portrayed in Hero as a primordial father, a mythic figure, a tyrant, and a lover. 11 He explains that he needs to unify China to make life easier for people. Unification will lead to the pursuit of peaceful life by living under the same standard i.e. literature and measuring.

Sky represents the dead. He conspires with Nameless, but fails to accomplish his task. Unlike Broken Sword, Sky never gets close to achieving his mission. Sky sacrifices his spear to convince both Broken Sword and Flying Snow of his honorable intentions. Although at first Sky seems to be the most skeptical about the ideology "All under Heaven," we later find out that he did not die in a duel with Nameless. The duel is only a conspiracy between him and Nameless. After Nameless failed to assassin he “gave up” his sword to pay homage to his fallen friends.

This Lacanian analysis of the protagonists in Hero is the basis of the next section, where I show how these warriors are involved in a political economy of friendship, an exchange of homoeroticism.

IV. The Political Economy of Friendship in Hero

This section attempts to answer the set of questions: “What kind of political economy occurs in Hero?” “What is exchanged in the film?” “What is the use of value and exchange of signs in Hero?” My analysis reveals that the object of the economy or circulation among the heroes Sky, Nameless, Broken Sword, and Qin is a homoerotic relationship, in a sense that they believe in the same token “All under heaven.” They exchange and share this ideology at any cost, including their lives.

First of all we need to treat homoeroticism, which characterizes asymmetrical relationships between adult men and boys or young men. The older partner takes the initiative and gains sexual pleasure, while the younger (the boyfriend or loved one) gains the friendship and help of the older man. 12 The homoeroticism as shown in Hero is not relationships between adult men and boys but rather relationships among adult men who believe they can sacrifice their lives to achieve their goals. A warrior or a hero is a person who will sacrifice anything for the collective good of society. The collective good, in Hero, is peace, which can be achieved only under one ruler. Hence, the political economy of homoeroticism operates in that they exchange their “lives” for both an ultimate good and friendship.

In his documentary film Yang and Yin: Gender in Chinese Cinema, Stanley Kwan traces how gender issues are represented in Chinese films back to the 1930s.13 He shows how male intimacy or homoeroticism is presented in Chinese films, including the swordplay genre (e.g., in films directed by Chang Cheh), Kung fu genre (e.g., in films directed by Bruce Lee), and gangster genre (e.g., in films directed by John Woo). 14

In Kwan's documentary, Peggy Chiao, a film critic, expresses her feelings about male bonding, muscles, and nudity, saying, “it's like a male paradise. It’s all very sexual.” 15 Homoeroticism is not only depicted in half-naked male bodies, but also in male friendships, which are treated as prior and more important than male-female bonds. As director Chang Cheh remarks in Kwan's documentary, “Chinese hero has no truck with woman, he is much more concerned with his male friends.” 16

The boundary between friendship and homosexuality blurs. This can be seen in Chinese films that portray high levels of masculinity and intimate male bonding rather than heterosexual intimacy. Cheh further explains that, “It’s my reading of Chinese tradition, nobody thinks of [the novel] The Three Kingdoms as gay.” However, he admits that Freud’s interpretation of sexual drive is important. 17

Chinese films only present men as sharing passion and intellectuality. In The Killer, a film by John Woo, men help each other even when they are opposed to each other. 18 In this film, a detective extracts a bullet from a hit man’s arm. The scene reflects the hit man’s face showing both pleasure and pain when the detective inserts a knife into his wound. Woo remarks that their intimate eye contact is unconscious, a way of depicting their mutual admiration as though it were a “first date,” even though it is not conceived in sexual terms. 19

The sword represents the phallus, as Kwan points out. Hero shows the impotent phallus of Broken Sword, who aborted his mission, Nameless' lack of father and discovery of fraternity with a primordial father, and Qin as that father, the first emperor of China. Only Sky that seems to be a normal person, but he loses his phallus-spear to Nameless. Flying Snow shows her jealousy of the male phallus, her female jouissance. Qin, the primordial father, is the only potent person in the film in that he achieves his ultimate goal.

To achieve swordsmanship one must unite himself with one's sword. Broken Sword, Sky, and Nameless fail to unify with their swords or spears. Among these assassins, Broken Sword is the most outstanding swordsman. His calligraphy shares the same principles with swordsmanship, but he cannot keep his “broken phallus.” Nameless, too, lacks a phallus. Together, they agree that “the swordsman is at peace with the rest of the world [when] he vows not to kill and to bring peace to mankind.” 20 Since calligraphy and swordsmanship share the same essence, Nameless asks Broken Sword to find the twentieth way to write the word “sword” in order to evaluate his skill as a swordsman. From the Zhao perspective, this is art and creativity, but for Qin it is too diversified. He claims that once he has unified China, he will “eradicate this problem” by consolidating calligraphic writing. 21

The relationship between the swordsman and his sword is intimate. Qin, talking about Broken Sword, remarks on the martial art principle that “once the unity between swordsman and his sword is attained, even a blade of grass can be a weapon.” 22 This is because “the sword exists in one’s heart.”23 The ultimate achievement is actually the absence of a sword because it means the swordsman and his sword are united. The hesitation and abandoning of their mission is really their inability to possess their swords. They become impotent assassins in front of Qin, the primordial father.

I would like to point out that Hero uses homoeroticism to create a sense of non- hierarchical relations among men, including even between Qin and Nameless. Their relationship has no power dimension. It seems that they are independent from each other, they each have free will to make decisions, to kill or not to kill, sacrifice or not sacrifice, take action or remain passive, be dead or alive. It is Qin’s wit that allows Nameless to hesitate. Male bonding is a strategy for dealing with assassination. His statecraft leads him to hand Nameless his sword, since Qin believes that Nameless will never kill him.

The homoeroticism in Hero depoliticizes heterosexual relationships. Broken Sword and Flying Snow are lovers, but their love is trivial compared to the love shared among the male heroes, Nameless, Broken Snow, Sky, and Qin. These male warriors do not ask for understanding from their friends because they already understand each other. Flying Snow, by contrast, fails to understand why Broken Snow aborted his mission even at her last moment of life. If she had understood, she might not have been willing to die. Flying Snow is the female stain who disrupts the flow of homoeroticism and, at the same time, allows men to practice their love. 24

The words of Broken Sword, “All under Heaven,” do not immediately encourage Nameless to abort his plan to assassinate Qin. Nameless later changes his mind because he is hungry for “the greater good for all,” which he comes to understand means peace under Qin’s rule. He believes that one person’s suffering is nothing compared with the suffering of many. The conflict between Qin and Zhao is trivial compared to the greater cause. 25 In Hero, friendship is intrinsic to philosophical thought. 26 Friendship shapes the cinematic narrative of Qin’s supremacy.

V. Who is the Real Hero/Heroine?
There is only one dead body seen in Hero, that of Flying Snow, the female protagonist. Death in Hero seems unreal in that Sky, Flying Snow, and Broken Sword do did not die fighting Nameless, as portrayed in his narratives. They are surrender to death. Only Nameless’ funeral is celebrated as a heroic funeral, but we do not see his dead body. The death of Flying Snow is left ambiguous in that females do not really fit into the swordplay film genre, yet her death is presented as more real than that of the men in the film.

But who is the real hero/heroine? The macropolitics of the film shows that the one who can manipulate the relations among male bonds or homoeroticism is the real hero. Qin is the real hero in that he is even impressed by his enemies and he installs his regime within a national narrative and imagination. As the primordial father, Qin achieves his goal: Qin as the supreme mono-emperor.

According to Michael Shapiro, cinematic nationhood is the process through which film articulates nation-building and sustains the projects of states.27 Albeit Hero was labeled an “unashamed compromise,” 28 it is an exemplar of how cinematic narrative works on the project of cinematic nationhood. Hero provides a set of ideas: peace under one ruler; unification prior to peace; peace and unification worth any sacrifice. This set of ideas forms the narrative of a national imaginary, constructed within the cinematic narrative of Hero.

Notes

1. Hero, pro. and dir. Zhang Yimou, Zhang Yimou Studio Production et.al., 2002, VCD format.

2. William E. Connolly, “Film Technique and Micropolitics,” Theory and Event 6, no. 1. See also Lars Tonder, “Between Lack and Abundance: Introducing the Zizek/Connolly Exchange on Film and Politics,” Theory and Event 6, no.1. I admit that using Connolly and Zizek in this paper presents some conflict in my analysis. However, since I found that both theorists contributed to my understanding of the film Hero, I decided to keep this conflicted approach.

3. Connolly, “Film Technique and Micro Politics.”

4. Tonder, “Between Lack and Abundance.”

5. Slavoj Zizek, “The Thing from Inner Space,” Sexuation. Ed. Renata Salecl. (Durham and London: Duke University Press), 2000, pp. 216-259.

6. Ibid., pp. 217-8.

7. Ibid., pp. 222-4.

8. Ibid., p. 246.

9. The notion of “stain” is the idea that an object that goes against nature has to be removed from the picture or natural landscape. In this case, Flying Snow disrupts the flows of homoeroticism. Bonitzer explains how stain makes film works because it induces the gaze. See Pascal Bonitzer, “Hitchcockian Suspense,” Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Lacan (But Were Afraid to Ask Hitchcock) (London: Verso), 1992, p. 21.

10. Ibid., pp. 228-9.

11. Many film directors produced the mythic stories of the many assassination attempt on Qin's life. For example, Chen Kaige produced two films on Qin: The Emperor’s Shadow and The Emperor’s Assassin.

12. Plato, The Symposium (New York: Penguin Books), 1999, pp. xiii-xv

13. Stanley Kwan (Director), Yang and Yin: Gender in Chinese Cinema. London: Connoisseur Video, 1996. Videocassette.

14. John Woo was an assistant director to Chang Cheh.

15. Kwan, Yang and Yin.

16. Ibid.

17.Ibid.

18. Ibid. See also John Woo (Director), The Killer. Hong Kong: Fox Lober Home Video, 1994. videocassette.

19. Kwan, Yang and Yin.

20. Yimou, Hero.

21. Ibid.

22. Ibid.

23. Ibid.

24. See Pascal Bonitzer, “Hitchcockian Suspense.”

25. Zhang Yimou, Hero.

26. Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, What is Philosophy? (New York: Columbia University Press), 1994, pp. 2-3.

27. Michael Shapiro, Method and nations: Cultural Governance and the Indigenous Subject (Unpublished manuscript, 2002), 207.

28. Susan Jakes, “Play Safe,” Time Asia 160, no. 24, 23 December 2002, (5 May 2003).



Glossary of Film and Electronic Media Terms by cyber internet campus http://www.internetcampus.com/gloss/gloss_c.htm (24 November 2003)

from สยามเวนา

The Last Samurai: Diversity issues through a Buddhist lens



by
Snea Thinsan

Diversity necessarily implies that there are differences among human beings. Cultural, ethnic, and gender diversity is the issue of interest when we refer to diversity, but the scope can go much more beyond that. The diversity program at the School of Education, Indiana University confirms such a broad scope:

We recognize that diversity embraces a broad range of differences, including gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, social class, abilities, religion, and national origin. One of the important goals of achieving diversity at our institution and in our society is to include those groups that have historically been discriminated against, excluded or marginalized in school and society.
http://www.indiana.edu/~ediverse/mission.html

Strictly in the academia, diversity fits the best under the umbrella of multicultural education, which is very well defined by Sonia Nieto (2002) as follows:

Multicultural education is a process of comprehensive school reform and basic education for all students. It challenges and rejects racism and other forms of discrimination in schools and society and accepts and affirms the pluralism (ethnic, racial, linguistic, religious, economic, and gender, among others) that students, their communities, and teachers represent. Multicultural education permeates the curriculum and instructional strategies used in schools, as well as the interactions among teachers, students and parents, and the very way that schools conceptualize the nature of teaching and learning. Because it uses critical pedagogy as its underlying philosophy and focuses on knowledge, reflection, and action (praxis) as the basis for social change, multicultural education furthers the democratic principles of social justice. (Nieto, p. 208)



What does diversity mean to me? This question moves me deeper into the soul of the term through my personal world views philosophically influenced by Buddhism. The Buddha recognized differences that inevitably exist among human beings based on their past and present deeds, or according the karma law. Instead of emphasizing the differences, Buddha, however, saw all human beings, as well as all creatures, as equal or the same in that they all have certain destiny in common: they are to be born, aged, sick, and deceased, all alike as long as they have not reached nirvana. Differences in Buddhist view, therefore, should not create tensions or conflicts because, as friends of the same fate, people are taught to coexist to give and take in harmony. Hence, differences among human beings are, to me, the existing reality that we cannot avoid. In other words, we can say that diversity exists naturally and human beings have been living in diversity. However, issues surrounding how tensions, or conflicts caused by differences among people in given societies are created, viewed, and treated are not to be taken for granted. Given the rapidly changing world, in which differences lead to or are intertwined with discrimination and oppression, diversity issues must be examined seriously. Having watched the Last Samurai, I was led to see the following issues.



Diversity issues in The Last Samurai



A few most interesting themes that emerged in the Last Samurai deserve our attention.



How differences become conflicts



Differences are inevitable, but do not necessarily need to lead to conflicts or tensions, as I stated above. My personal analysis of the stories of the Last Samurai has led me to see a bigger picture of factors that turn differences into destructive confrontation.



Modernism, or capitalism to be precise, was responsible for the conflicts in Japan in the 19th century. In this film, the Samurai had worked faithfully to protect the Japanese Emperors for so long before the Emperor, under the influence of Omura and his business associates who dominated the congress, decided to modernize the country. Foreign experts and resources were brought in to Japan: lawyers from France, engineers from Germany, architects from Holland, and weapons from the U.S. The Samurai, led by Katsumoto--a main character, thought the changes were too fast and saw foreign forces as potentially harmful to Japan; thus, he led other Samurais to disrupt the process. Their actions were considered rebellious by Omura, who can be regarded as a representative of the capitalists in the modern world and who wished to gain wealth from trading exchanges with the U.S. and other foreign businesspersons.



Capitalism created consumption craze and more chaotic society, to the benefit of the more powerful elites, entrepreneurs and foreigners, who were considered the sources of knowledge, wealth, threatening external forces, and owners of superior cultures. Japan, after having closed itself to the world for over a century, found itself behind western countries and felt the threat brought around by the western countries seeking colonials and economic victims enslaved by unfair, if not unwanted, trade agreements. Modernizing the country seemed to be the only way out. Colonialism indeed began to disguise itself with capitalism as a tool then. Consumption of foreign goods and knowledge was evident in Japan during which era. Western clothes, watches, food, and even guns were not just normal commodities, but also symbolic representations of desired power and prosperity that the Japanese wished they had had then. Consumerism imposed by the influx of Western cultures can be negated. The harm that consumerism brings about cannot be overlooked because consumerism are at the roots of problems in our present world, not merely in Japan in the 19th centery. Sivaraksa (1999), a Noble Prize nominee from Thailand defines and negates 'consumerism' as follows:



Consumerism is the personification of greed and people don't realise that one can die for greed just as one can die for nationalism. It drives a person to work too hard, to desire money and to consume. One is conditioned to think that without consumer goods one is nobody. 'I buy therefore I am' is the slogan of the modern age. We must understand consumerism as a new demonic religion and find a spiritual alternative. (p. 13)



Capitalism, the twin of consumerism, on the surface promises wealth, comfort, convenience, physical satisfaction, and yet, at the roots, greed. Greedy tradesmen would do anything to get what they want, and Omura was a great example. In order for capitalism to prosper and yield him profits, he regarded the Samurai "terrorists" that needed to be eradicated. Little did he know that getting rid of that small group of people also meant dumping the Japanese's old virtues and ways of life. In all, we can see that greed that is usually provoked by capitalism and consumerism turn differences into conflicts and lead to destruction of the weaker force or culture.



Familiar consequences



When diversity becomes conflicting differences, the following scenarios are common.



Inferiority


Once "modernized", members of the local communities usually regard their old ways of life inferior to the new ways. Indeed, the word "modernize" indicates clearly that the old ways must be either ignored, abandoned or replaced, or even eradicated. The samurai suffered the same phenomenon, in which the ways they dressed, carried two swords, and lived their lives were insulted by modernized Japanese on the street. This is when diversity education counts. By promoting acceptance of differences without being judgmental of the different ways of life in light of the changing world, diversity education promises a more harmonious society. Whether and how well education can function in light of the fierce power of capitalism remains educators' duties and perhaps top priority.



Marginalization/ Otherness



When conflicts of interest occur, the weaker or smaller groups are generally marginalized in the capitalistic world. The samurai's interest of protecting Japan from foreign influences inevitably clashed with that of modernized, capitalistic Japanese and of the foreigners who had entered Japan looking for sources of profits and wealth: whale oil, new market, etc. In fact, the history of the samurai had been rough already before this era. Being elites, they had not been able to fit properly in the later Japanese society, where there were not wars in which to fight. They then already were the minority of the society, who could not do any work considered lower than their social ranks. Once Japan was lured into the capitalistic dreams under the modernization scheme, the samurai became the unwanted group of people. They were labeled rebels, barbarians, uncivilized group, and old-fashioned, unwanted minority.



Domination



Power relations among the Japanese and between them and foreigners were also very interesting as reflected in the film. Among the Japanese themselves, we could see that the ruling class changed from the Shogun and the samurai to be business-oriented groups. These business-oriented people under the umbrella of "modernization" imposed, with or without awareness, new ways of living and thinking. Their voices became louder than any other voice. People were told that Japan was modernizing itself and its promising future lied on the acceptance of foreign assistance. What they probably did not realize was that they were imposing on the Japanese the foreign culture and capitalism, that could potentially harm Japan at least because most of the actions would benefit only Omura and his colleagues and of course foreign firms/governments. Imposition is a one-way, top-down approach; thus, we can say that what happened in The Last Samurai was in line with Freire's notion of "cultural domination" (Freire, 2002). Foreign cultures became prominent in the Japanese society as a result. Cultural domination, according to Freire, occurs when the superior group as outsiders impose their way of thinking and conducting on the weaker, local groups. Domination can also come in the subtle form of cultural consumption under capitalism. I this case, the outsiders do not need to do much in order for their cultures to dominate the local one, because once the common goods and ways of operating things (i.e. uniform, weapons, experts, etc.) are accepted by the local as better and so are the culture embedded within them. Ironically, the film about the Japanese's strong virtues of keeping honor, discipline, and dignity was created by the U.S.-based producers!



Death of indigenous cultures & identity loss



The above scenarios can lead to the most threatening effect on the local cultures; the death of indigenous cultures. Cultural diversity that many try to promote practically is at stake if we look at how capitalism, which carries the power of the stronger groups of people and more powerful cultures, can intimidate, marginalize, dominate, and even destroy the local cultures. New, usually foreign, cultures under capitalism always flourish on the expense of the local ones. The death of the samurai perhaps marked the beginning of the loss of, or changes in, identity among the Japanese. Experts typically are made from foreign education and are more likely to adopt the foreign ways of thinking, expressing, and operating. Increasingly, the medium of communication in local, regional, and global levels necessarily becomes the language from the dominant culture. Now, as a result, intellectuality and aptitude of non-English speakers are tested in such the dominant language of the world, GRE, GMAT, TOEFL, to name a few. How adoption of equipment, approaches, thinking, generally foreign cultures to replace the indigenous ones can affect members of the indigenous cultures has not been studied adequately. However, it is said enough in the literature of multicultural education that language policies and learning cultures that ignore the backgrounds of the students can put the students from the marginalized cultures at a disadvantage (See for instance, Walsh, 1996; Heath, 1999; Delpit, 2002).

Lessons

The Last Samurai does not only provide the typical reflections of how the world works, it also informs us of whatit takes to promote diversity in light of extreme tensions.

For people from two cultures to understand each other, it is necessary that both sides are willing to "have a good conversation." Perhaps, Freire's dialogic approach to co-learning when outsiders are trying to make sense of a new culture applies here. Mutual respect is also the tool that two peoples need in learning about each other.

Keen interest in each other's culture is also very important. Algren and Kutsumoto both show interest in each other. While Kutsumoto took Algren to his village, observed his movements, and read his confiscated diary to study about his new enemy, Algren had read translated books about the Samurai and later at the village always kept his eyes, ears, and mind open.

Cultural sensitivity is perhaps another quality required for living in diversity. Observing eyes, keen ears, and open minds, therefore, are very important. Algren often showed us such a quality. He, for example, took off his shoes entering the house after he had learned that Taka, the host, had to clean the floor messed with the dirt from his shoes.

Non-judgmental attitude appears to be important, too. The movie often presents us with the lines that reflect the characters' biases, stereotypes, and quick judgments. We can always find something to say about strangers, but time often reveals to us that we can be wrong.

A most important lesson we can learn from the movie is that, in spite of many differences, we human beings are similar in many ways. Algren and Kutsumoto came to understand each other so profoundly because they realized that they were both 'the students of wars". Perhaps, instead of focusing on differences alone, we should try to emphasize similarities in diversity promotion, too. In the Buddha's eyes, we are all friends of the same fate within the same circle.

To understand a new culture enough to appreciate its glory, Freire's praxis, which requires both critical reflections and actions, seems to fit well. It took Algren more than just reading books to appreciate the Samurai ways. Algren merged himself in the Samurai ways of life by living with a family and doing what the Samurai did. Perhaps, this can encourage us, educators, to be more ambitious; that is, we should do more than just having cultural fairs or talent shows.

The other obvious lesson is the notion of language as an important tool for cultural understanding. Not only can learning a new language be a way to get closer to the people in the new culture, it is also a tool to help facilitate understanding at a deeper level. The fact that Kutsumoto could speak English and that Algren learned to speak Japanese reflect the importance of learning the target culture's language.

References



Delpit, L. & Dowdy, J. K. (2002). The Skin That We Speak. New York: The New Press.



Heath, S. B. (1999). Ways with Words. New York: CUP.



Nieto, S.(2002). Affirming Diversity: The Sociopolitical Context of Multicultural Education, New York: Longman Publishers, 3 rd. ed., 2000 (first ed., 1992; second ed., 1996).



Sivaraksa, S. (1999). Global HealingWalsh, C. E. (Ed.) (1999). Education Reform and Social Change. Bangkok: Ruankaew Printing House.

Walsh, C. E. (Ed.) (1999). Education Reform and Social Change. New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc.

from สยามเสวนา

Thailand-Cambodia :A Love-Hate Relationship





Charnvit Kasetsiri
ตีพิมพ์ ๒๕ กรกฎาคม ๒๕๔๗


The violence which culminated in the burning of the Royal Thai Embassy in Phnom Penh on January 29, 2003, was both shocking and unexpected. The rioting not only inflicted extensive damage to Thai-owned property (fortunately, no one was killed) but severely strained Thai-Cambodian relations. It also warrants study of the history of Thai-Cambodian relations to understand the deep-seated causes of what took place so that similar incidents can be avoided in the future.




Among the neighboring countries of Southeast Asia, none seems more similar to Thailand than Cambodia (perhaps not even excluding Laos and the “Tai” people scattered throughout such countries as Burma, Vietnam, and southern China). Both nations share similar customs, traditions, beliefs, and ways of life. This is especially true of royal customs, language, writing systems, vocabulary, literature, and the dramatic arts.




In light of these similarities, it seems surprising, therefore, that relations between Thailand and Cambodia should be characterized by deep-seated “ignorance, misunderstanding, and prejudice.” Indeed, the two countries have what can be termed “a love-hate relationship.”




This lack of understanding is reflected in the thinking of a considerable number of educated Thais and members of the ruling class, who distinguish between the Khom and the Khmer, considering them to be two separate ethnic groups. They assert that it was the Khom, not the Khmer, who built the majestic temple complexes at Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom and who founded one of the world’s truly magnificent ancient empires. They further claim that Khmer culture, for instance its various forms of masked dance drama, is merely a “derivative” of Thai culture. (This is despite the fact that the word “Khom” is derived from the old Thai “Khmer krom,” meaning “lowland Khmer.” In spoken Thai, “Khmer” was gradually dropped, leaving only “krom,” which over time became, first, “klom” or “kalom,” and then eventually “Khom.”)




The border between Thailand and Cambodia is approximately 800 kilometers long, stretching along the provinces of the lower Northeast from a point known as “Chong Bok” in Ubon Ratchathani (where the Thai, Laotian, and Cambodian borders meet and which some refer to as the “Emerald Triangle”) and ending in Had Lek sub-district of Klong Yai district, in Trat province.




This long border is symbolic of the long history of relations between the Thais and the Khom-Khmer, which date from before the founding of the Sukhothai kingdom in the thirteenth century, thus starting the “love-hate relationship.” A similar relationship exists between the Japanese and the Koreans. Much of what defines Japanese culture today has been influenced by and is part of the cultural heritage of Korea. Buddhism, silkmaking, lacquerware, architecture, and sculpture – the most refined aspects of culture which the Japanese identify with China – passed to them first through Korea. But because of Japan’s successful transformation into an industrial powerhouse, that country has overlooked its debt to Korea and, in fact, treats Korea as an inferior.




Those elements of Thai culture which are generally considered to have originated in India, such as Buddhism, architecture, artistic designs, and even a significant portion of the Thai lexicon, did not enter Thailand directly from India. Rather, they were all second-hand transmissions, so to speak, having first passed through the Sri Lankans (including the Tamil), the Mon, or the Khmer. Even the concept of divine kingship (devaraja) and much of the special vocabulary associated with the royal court were, as M.R. Kukrit Pramoj, a noted intellectual and former Thai prime minister, said, “derived from Cambodia.”




Thai leaders in the past were filled with tremendous admiration for anything Khom-Khmer. Khun Pha Muang, who ruled the city of Muang Rad, somewhere in present-day northern Thailand, and was instrumental in the founding of the Sukhothai kingdom, was given the title “Sri Intrabodintrathit” (before it was changed to “Sri Intrathit”). This is a name taken from the lord or phee fah of the city of “muang Sri Sothonpura.” Pha Muang’s royal regalia, known as “Pra Khan Jayasri,” the Jayasri sword, and his royal consort named “Sikara Maha Devi,” were all bestowed by the King of Angkor.




This is the message conveyed to us by a fourteenth-century stone inscription of Wat Srichum at Sukhothai (the authenticity of which has never been questioned, unlike that of the Ram Khamhaeng Inscription). The Thai term “phee fah” (referring to a king) and the term “Sri Sothonpura” are direct references to a Khom-Khmer king and his royal capital. The king in question was probably King Jayavarman VIII (1243-1295) and the royal capital of Sri Sothonpura is certainly Angkor Thom.





In other words, the earliest royal Thai titles – King Sri Intrabodintrathit, the Pra Khan Jayasri sword, and the consort Sikara Maha Devi – were derived from the Khmer, one of the most highly advanced civilizations in Southeast Asia at the time and a source of knowledge and inspiration to the Thai people. It is possible that Sikara Maha Devi was a daughter of King Jayavarman VIII and thus the Thai leader Khun Pha Muang, one of the founders of Sukhothai, was a son-in-law of the Khmer King.




The early history of the Lao Lan Xang kingdom in Luang Prabang shares distinct similarities. Fah Ngum, the founder of the kingdom, had sought refuge at Angkor, where he was given a sacred Buddha image (Phra Bang) and where he took a Khmer consort (Mahesi) before establishing his supremacy over all the Lao people (A.D. 1353).




This respect and admiration for anything Khmer also characterized the Ayutthaya period from the mid-fourteenth century onward. Interestingly, the flourishing of Khmer art and culture at the Thai court was the result of war, a war in which the victors adopted elements of the superior civilization of the losing side.




The glorious Khom-Khmer civilization ultimately sank into decline, as Sri Sothonpura (Angkor Thom or Sri Yasodharapura), seat of the kingdom, fell three times to invading armies – first to King U-Thong in 1369, second to King Ramesuan in 1388/9, and finally in 1431 to King Sam Phraya. The sacking of Sri Sothonpura can be compared to the fall of Ayutthaya in 1767, but Thai historians are reluctant to make this analogy as it casts Thais in the role of “villains,” a role more comfortably attributed to the Burmese.




However, the Thai conquest of Sri Sothonpura led to a burgeoning of Khmer art and culture in Ayutthaya, just as the Mongol conquest of China led to the Mongol adoption of Chinese customs and culture (the founding of the Yuan dynasty at Peking). As Professor David Wyatt of Cornell University once noted, in fact, “Ayutthaya is the successor of Angkor.”




Another example from the Ayutthaya period is the decision by King Prasat Thong (1630-1656) to build the principal prang at Wat Chaiyawatanaram in the Khmer style and to bestow on the Khmer-style palace he constructed on the banks of the Pasak River (located today in Nakhon Luang district of Ayutthaya province) the name “Nakhon Luang.” This is a name taken directly from Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom, as Thais at the time referred to the Khmer capital as (Phra) “Nakhon Luang” or in Pali-Sanskrit, Nagara, the City.




The admiration of the Thai ruling classes for things Khmer-Khom remained in evidence even into the Ratanakosin (Bangkok) period. King Rama IV, or King Mongkut (r.1851-1868), for instance, ordered a Khmer stone temple disassembled and reconstructed on Thai soil, but “Phra Suphanphisan, after a trip to the ancient Khmer capital at Angkor, informed the King that all the stone temples were too enormous to be taken apart and transported to Siam. Hearing this, the King ordered that Prasat Ta Prohm, a relatively smaller temple, be relocated instead. Four groups of 500 men each were dispatched…to deconstruct the prasat on the ninth day of the sixth lunar month.”




The account of this event, which appears in “The Royal Chronicles of King Rama IV” by Chao Phraya Thipakorawong, occurred in 1860, before the Siamese ceded “sovereignty” over Cambodia to the French in 1867.





It is unclear to us precisely why King Mongkut wished to have an enormous Khmer temple reconstructed in Siam at a time when the French were gradually extending their control over much of Indochina. What is interesting, however, is that the attempt to move the temple structure failed when “some 300 Khmers came out of the forest and attacked the men who had come to disassemble the temple, killing Phra Suphanphisan, Phra Wang and one of Phra Suphanphisan’s sons. Phra Mahatthai was stabbed, and Phra Yokkrabat was injured. The phrai commoners, however, escaped injury by fleeing into the forest.”

It was obvious that the Khmer were angered by the theft of their property and responded violently. The incident convinced King Mongkut to abandon the plan to “disassemble” the prasat and instead to construct a small model of the Angkor Wat temple complex. “Craftsmen constructed a model of Angkor Wat and installed it at Wat Phra Sri Ratanasasadaram (the Temple of the Emerald Buddha), where it remains to this very day.” (Prime Minister Hun Sen visited the model at the Temple of the Emerald Buddha in early 1990s during an official visit to Thailand for discussions with then-Prime Minister Chatichai Choonhavan.)





Despite the Thai love and admiration for anything Khmer, the Thais have also felt considerable hatred for the Khmer, as evidenced by a ritual called the phithi pathomkam. While Ayutthaya was busy fending off Burmese incursions, the Khmer King Satha (Chetta I, r.1576-1596) took the opportunity to attack Ayutthaya from the east. In revenge, so the chronicles say, King Naresuan ordered the capture of Khmer ruler to be beheaded and washed his feet with the blood.




The phithi pathomkam ritual re-enacts this story of revenge. However, Professor Kajorn Sukhapanich, a noted Thai historian, did not believe that the ritual, as recorded in the royal chronicles, ever really occurred. He claimed that Khmer King Satha fled and took refuge in Laos.




In general, present-day Thai view Khmer leaders and kings as traitors and ingrates. This idea was probably started by King Vajiravudh, or Rama VI (r.1910-1925), in his official nationalism campaign. It was handed down and developed by Field Marshal Phinbun and Luang Wichit in the 1930s-1940s when Thailand, with Japanese help, seized Siemreap and Battambang from French Indochina. It was also heightened by the dictatorship of Field Marshal Sarit when the International Court of Justice ruled that the great temple of Phra Viharn on the border belonged to Cambodia. The pro-Americanism of Thailand and the neutrality of Sihanouk Cambodia during the Cold War further encouraged mutual dislike between the two countries and peoples.





Thais are not particularly fond of Norodom Sihanouk, for example. A Thai riddle asks, “What color (si) do Thai people hate?” The answer is neither red (si daeng) nor black (si dam), but “Si-hanouk.”




This, of course, is the Thai perspective, but how do the Khmer view their kings, such as Satha and Sihanouk? Certainly as national heroes and saviors, as men who fought to preserve their country’s independence in the face of Thai aggressors intent on seizing control of Cambodia. Much the same could be said about King Anu of Laos, r.1805-1828, considered by Lao historians as a national hero, whereas to the Thais, he was a “rebel” against the Bangkok monarch King Rama III (r.1824-1851).




The history of Thailand and its neighbors, especially Cambodia, Laos, and Burma, is one with both positive and negative elements. Some events have bred hatred, for instance of the Burmese by the Thais; others have generated contempt and feelings of superiority or inferiority, as in the case of Thailand’s relations with Cambodia and Laos. These feelings have led to significant misunderstandings.




Clearly, then, there is a need for an earnest and systematic study of the history of relations between these countries. This study deserves support from national and regional organizations such as ASEAN. Unfortunately, however, once the smoke clears from the Thai Embassy in Phnom Penh, all that is likely to matter is the extent of the financial damage and how and when compensation will be paid.




Or if any analysis of the incident does take place, it is likely to reach the facile conclusion that the Khmers are “the villains” – they burned down Thai Embassy, after all – and the Thais are “the good guys” – we did not burn the Cambodian Embassy. It is convenient for Thais to forget that Ayutthaya rulers sacked Angkor three times. It would be far preferable, however, to examine the violent events of January 29 in order to draw lessons for solving the problems that continue to affect the neighboring countries of the Southeast Asian region.




Select Bibliography

The following texts shed some light for a better understanding of our Southeast Asian neighbors, especially Cambodia, its history, and the question of the Khmer legacy.




Her Royal Highness Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn. เขมรสามยก (Khamen sam yok / Cambodia: Three Times). 1993. A travel account of three trips made in 1992 and 1993, this book provides a day-by-day account of the Princess’s experiences in Cambodia, intending to give an understanding of the country and its customs. Filled with general information, the book is easy and pleasurable reading, and, importantly, contains beautiful photographs which help clarify the descriptions of modern day Cambodia (to 1992), as well as the historical sites at Angkor. 309 pages. 500 baht.




George Coedes. Angkor: An Introduction (translated into Thai by Pranee Wongthes as เมืองพระนคร นครวัด นครธม ). 1986. A popular book, currently in its seventh printing, written by an eminent French scholar from the Ecole Française d’Extrème Orient. Coedes once worked in Thailand and was the first man to read the Ramkhamhaeng Inscription Stone in its entirety. This text is a “must read” for anyone wishing to gain an understanding of the history of the ancient Khmer and the concept of divine kingship which informed the building of the great prasart. The book traces the development of the magnificent Khmer civilization and its eventual collapse. A smooth translation of the original, easy to read. 228 pages. 195 baht.





David Chandler. A History of Cambodia (translated into Thai by Phanngam Ngaothamasarn, Sodsai Khantiworapong, and Wongduen Narasajja as ประวัติศาสตร์กัมพูชา / Prawatsat Kamphucha). 1997 (second printing, 2000). Chandler, an eminent American scholar, is a former professor at Monash University, Australia. The book recounts the history of Cambodia, beginning from ancient times (before and after Angkor) and continuing to the present day (before and after the Khmer Rouge). It provides the “best background” to Cambodian history currently available in Thai. The book received an award for best translation of a work of non-fiction in 1999. A valuable reference book, suitable for reports, articles and advanced study. 412 pages. 250 baht.




Nikhom Musikakhama. ประวัติศาสตร์โบราณคดี กัมพูชา (Archeological History of Cambodia). 1993. A text published by the Fine Arts Department to mark the official opening of the National Museum at Phimai by Her Royal Highness Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn in 1993. The book is an attempt by the government to illustrate that: “Just as the two banks of the Mekhong River have not been able to separate the Thais from their Lao brothers and sisters, the Dongrak Hills have failed to separate Thailand from Cambodia.” This is a dense and fairly serious work, tracing the history of the Khmer people from before the founding of Angkor to the fall of the empire at the hands of Vietnamese and Thai invaders. The book serves as an excellent guide for determining what is “reliable” and what is “unreliable” in the study of historical “records.” Special attention should be paid to Chapter 5. 430 pages.




Jit Phumisak. ตำนานแห่งนครวัด (Prawatsat Borankhadi Kamphucha / The Legend of Angkor Wat). 1982 (second printing, 2002). This book, by an important Thai thinker and writer, is in the style of a cultural travel guide. It is an attempt to clear up misunderstandings and “overcome Thai prejudice and contempt for the Khmer.” Although it is somewhat romanticized, the book is full of insightful conversations between young men and women who ask questions and look for answers to the mystery of the rise and fall of the Khmer empire. First printing B.E. 2525 (1982), second printing B.E. 2545 (2002). Beautiful illustrations. 196+ pages. 175 baht.




Bernard Groslier. นี่ เสียมกุก (Syam Kuk). (Translated into English by Benedict Anderson from the French “Les Syam Kuk des bas-reliefs d’Angkor Vat” in Orients pour George-Condominas, Sud-est Asie/Privat, Paris, 1981; Thai version edited by Charnvit Kasetsiri). 2002. The book presents the debate over the identity of the figures known as “Syam” carved into the stone prasat at Angkor. “Were they Thai? Where they Siamese? Were they mercenaries? Were they primitive babarians? Precisely who were they?” The book also discusses a new theory which posits that these figures were none other than the Kuay or Kui, one of the oldest indigenous peoples of Southeast Asia, who are somewhat disparagingly referred to as the “Suay” in Thai or the “Kha”in Lao. These people inhabited remote areas between the Khmer and the ancient Champa kingdoms. (M. Groslier was the French curator who remained at Angkor until the very last moment during the Khmer Rouge period. He believed that the flourishing of the ancient Khmer civilization was due to its ability to harness waterpower. To him the Angkorian Empire was a hydraulic society.) 165 baht.




Sujit Wongthes, editor. พระนเรศวรตีเมืองละแวก แต่ไม่ได้ “ฆ่า” พระยาละแวก Phra Naresuan ti muang Lawaek dai tae maikai kha Phraya Lawaek / King Naresuan Captured the City of Lovek, But Did Not “Kill” its King). A history text consisting of dense but readable academic articles by Janchai Phakatimkom, Boonteun Srivorapong, and Santi Pakdeekham, which present new information, new perspectives, and new theories which contrast with long-standing readings of “historical records.” According to these articles, King Naresuan, in 1593, did in fact attack Lovek, the capital of the Khmer empire after the fall of Angkor, but he did not kill the Cambodian monarch, and the Pathomkam ritual, in which the blood of the Khmer king was used to wash King Naresuan’s feet, did not occur. These writers contend that the Khmer King of Lovek fled to Laos where he lived out the rest of his days. This book is recommended for the way in which it opens up new perspectives on the past and for its rejection of old-fashioned “fanatical nationalism.” (The editor is a national artist and cultural treasure; Janchai is a history professor at Ramkhamhaeng University, and Santi is an instructor at Srinakarintrawirot University – see his translation of the text on differences between Thai and Cambodian perspectives.) 184 pages. 155 baht.




Charnvit Kasetsiri. วิถีไทย (Withi Thai / The Thai Way). 1997. This is an historical and cultural guidebook intended to give Thai readers an understanding of and respect for their Southeast Asian neighbors. It takes the approach that by understanding “them,” we can better understand “ourselves.” The book attempts to break down the barriers imposed by borders, prejudice, and outdated nationalistic attitudes. For information on Cambodia, readers are directed to the chapters entitled “Across Cambodia from Atop Phra Viharn” and “Angkor Wat: Record of a Journey to the Celestial Palace of the Khom.” 321 pages. 230 baht.




Theeraphap Lohitakul. รัก ชื่น ขื่น ชัง อุษาคเนย์ (Rak, chun, khun, chang Usakhane / Love, Admiration, Resentment and Hatred in Southeast Asia). 2002. Written in a romantic style by one of the country’s most highly regarded travel writers, this book is a cultural guide to Southeast Asia with interesting historical asides. What is most noteworthy is the writer’s obvious respect and admiration for cultures and peoples different from the Thais. At the same time, however, the book’s title and chapter headings such as “Reassessing the Past: From Bang Rachan to Suranaree” and “To Whom Does Phra Viharn Belong? A Question We Should Perhaps Stop Asking” point to elements of love and hate in relations between neighboring countries in the region. Very easy to read, with beautiful illustrations, the book is an attack on ethnocentrism. 304 pages. 200 baht.




Apichart Kaweephokha. ปราสาทสด๊กก๊อกธม ประวัติศาสตร์และอารยธรรมขอม สระแก้ว บันเตีย เมียนจาย (Prasat Sdok Kok Thom prawatsat lae arayatham khom sra keo bantai mainchai / Prasat Sadok Kok Thom: Khom History and Civilization in Sra Kaew and Bantay Mian Jai). An admirable attempt to promote cross-cultural understanding at the local level. The book makes use of historical information, stone inscriptions, cultural travels, religious rituals, and other local activities to break down national barriers and promote cooperation between Sra Kaew province in Thailand (the location of the Prasat Sadok Kok Thom) and Bantia Mian Jai province in Cambodia (site of Prasat Bantay Chamar). The writer is the chief district officer in Khok Sung district, Sra Kaew. 190 pages. 100 baht.

From สยามเสวนา

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Understanding the Situation in the South as a “Millenarian Revolt”

Understanding the Situation in the South as a “Millenarian Revolt”
Nidhi Aeusrivongse


Editor’s Note: Nidhi Aeusrivongse has been the dominant figure in Thai historical scholarship for the past two decades. Long on the faculty of Chiang Mai University, he earned a doctorate in history at the University of Michigan in 1976 with a disseration on literature and nationalism in Indonesia. He subsequently published a series of books that revolutionized Thai social, cultural, and literary history. Among the most notable are Pak kai lae bai rua: wa duai kan suksa prawatisat – wannakam ratanakosin [Quill and sail: On the study of history and literature in the early Bangkok era] (1984); Kanmueang Thai Samai Phra Narai [Thai politics in the reign of King Narai] (1984); Kanmueang Thai Samai Phrachao Krung Thonburi [Thai politics in the reign of King Taksin] (1993); and, most recently, Krung Taek, Phra Chao Tak lae Prawatisat Thai: Wa Duai Prawatisat lae Prawatisatniphon [The fall of the capital, King Taksin, and Thai history: On history and historiography] (2002). During the boom years of the late 1980s and 1990s, Nidhi’s ideas reached a broader public through his regular columns in the Thai press, and he emerged as one of Thailand’s leading public intellectuals.

This essay was translated by the Regional Studies Program, Walailak University, from “Morng sathannakarn phaktai phan wæn ‘kabot chaona’,” Sinlapa Watthanatham 25, no.8 (June 2004): 110-124.



The Protagonists are the “Small People”


It is difficult to deny that the situation in southern Thailand this year [Ed: 2004] is a social movement numbering hundreds of people.[1] If we include those people who have lent their support to the operations, that number might reach a thousand or more.


I am not interested in who led such a large-scale social movement, who the mastermind was, or from where the movement has gained support. Searching for the ringleader does not help us to understand anything. The raid on the arms depot [on 4 January 2004], the assassination of government officials, school burnings, or attacks on police units by militant forces, etc., are not isolated incidents but a movement that involves a large number of people. No one person can lead or attract such a huge number of people to carry out such violent operations (even through the use of drugs – this is a reference to comments made by the Prime Minister and circulated in the media that the militants were drug addicts. ed). There must be certain factors that have led these small people to mobilize themselves out of a common interest. In order to understand the situation in the South, therefore, one must understand the surrounding conditions and factors that are affecting the lives of these small people.


An authoritarian state does not often pay much attention to the small people who participate in social movements. It never conceives that the common people could mobilize a political or social movement by themselves. It always assumes that they must have been incited by someone else to take part, or else have been lured into it through bribery or deception.


Although such incitement, bribery, or deception may indeed exist, none of these things can explain the actions of the small people who actually joined the movement. Since a large number of these small people chose not to participate in the movement, apart from the large number who did, the question is, why did one group join the movement while the other group did not?


Who are the Protagonists?


By chance, the 28 April [2004] incident that led to the deaths of so many people has enabled us to learn who these small people actually are [The “incident” refers to coordinated attacks by militants on a number of police posts in the provinces of Pattani, Yala, and Narathiwat, and a stand-off with security forces at Kruese mosque in Pattani province. The attacks were suppressed leaving 107 of the militants dead, includnig 32 at the Kruese mosque seige. ed.]


If we look at the forces that took part in the incident of 28 April, the majority of them, as has been reported by the media, were rural people. This is consistent with an interview with the 4th Army Commander who stated that these people received military training in certain areas of Amphoe [district] Sabayoi, in Songkhla province, or Amphoe Kabang, Amphoe Yaha, Amphoe Thanto, Amphoe Aiyaweng, and Amphoe Betong in Yala province. He pointed out that these are jungle-covered, mountainous areas where security officials had not been able to inspect (Matichon, 3 May 2004).


This interview with the 4th Army Commander is in accordance with information provided by military intelligence sources that the youth had received secret military training (I am not sure what “youth” means here, because a press release following the incident stated that most of the dead were around 25 to 30 years of age, which means they are too old to be referred to as “youth”). This military training took place in mountainous, jungle areas, or close to remote villages. Those who underwent the training course were able to advance to the high-ranking groups that carry out hit-and-run attacks on police targets (Perspective Section, Bangkok Post, 2 May 2004).


When the author attempted to find out about the backgrounds of those killed it appears that this subject has received hardly any interest from the media. Therefore, we barely know about these people.


Among the injured was Mr. Abdulroning Cheloh, a villager from Amphoe Khokpho, Pattani province. His wife stated that he worked as a laborer tapping rubber (Matichon, 2 May 2004). This suggests that his family is quite poor since he works as hired laborer in a rural village without his own working capital.


The kamnan (head) of Thankhiri sub-district, the administrative area that includes Susoh village, where nineteen of the dead militants who attacked Amphoe Sabayoi police station came from, stated that “the most serious problem is education, because most of the kids here are unemployed. They can’t find work because they don’t have any knowledge. Most of them finish their education at the compulsory level of grade six, or at most junior secondary school. Then they have to help their parents in rubber-tapping. Apart from this they don’t have anything to do” (Matichon, 2 May 2004). Their level of education and the nature of the work they did suggest, therefore, that they were victims of the disintegration of rural society.


There were, however, some different cases, such as those of Mr. Sanphu and Mr. Maroning Yogmakeh, both of whom were shot dead. Their father expressed his sorrow, especially for the loss of his elder son (it is not known which one) who had just finished high school at Islam Witthaya school and had just applied to enter the police training college. But besides this, the evidence suggests that the militants who carried out the operation, and perhaps even the whole movement itself are not be linked to the traditional elite. For example, the Bangkok Post of 27 April reported that it had discovered a leaflet distributed in three provinces, i.e. at Dalohala-Raman Road, in Amphoe Raman, Yala province, in Amphoe Khokpho, Pattani province, and in Amphoe Roesoh, Narathiwat province, which features a picture of a religious leader handing something to a uniformed police officer. The leaflet, written in the Thai language, demands that Islamic religious leaders cease their cooperation with the police in providing intelligence about the unrest in the South.


This demand would appear to suggest that most religious leaders are not involved with the movement. They have no real links with the militants or the movement. The author suspects that neither the militants themselves nor the movement they lead have any real connection to the traditional elite. In fact, following the government’s arrests and the charges laid against the “ringleaders,” up until now there has been no clear evidence to prove the charges. I have had the opportunity of reading two case studies contained in the “Case Study Report into…” prepared by the Military Intelligence Agency of the Internal Security Directorate for the 4th Army Region, 2nd Division, that attempts to link the whole movement with the traditional elite, both at the local and the national levels. But all of the report’s conclusions are groundless suppositions based on conjecture and suspicion with no factual basis. The report may even have been deliberately intended to misrepresent the facts in order to fit the story it had concocted (even though it was credible enough to convince a number of government leaders). The author still believes, therefore, that this is a movement of the small people, and that those who carried out this operation had no links to the local traditional elite.


The author is also skeptical as to whether even those well-known anti-Thai government organizations such as PULO, BRN, Bersatu, etc.[2] are as linked to this movement as they wish to claim.[3] Of course, they will give their support and praise the actions of these small people, even though they are not the main force directly behind the movement, since it obviously fits in with their political objectives. In actual fact, however, movements such as PULO, BRN, etc. appear to lack the necessary organizational strength for such actions. They have never been able to carry out operations on such a large scale and of such an on-going nature as this.


It is noteworthy that the communiqué released by PULO following the incident on 28 April still does not claim responsibility, which suggests that PULO itself may not know a great deal about the “heroes” it has praised for their sacrifice and bravery. The PULO communiqué prefers to keep these “heroes” anonymous, even though they ought to know very well that it is not difficult for the Thai government to trace the names and families of the dead militants.


The Ideology of the Protagonists


The mass media, which has obediently accepted the information provided to it by the government or high ranking state officials, depicts the militants as a separatist group whose aim is to establish an independent state of Pattani free of Thai political control, while at the same time receiving inspiration from an extremist strand of Islamic teaching.


It is true that certain evidence found on the dead militants or gained from the interrogation of those militants who have been apprehended may indeed support such an interpretation. But let us look at the details of this ideology as claimed above.


Even if the militants and their movement (including organizations that supported them, such as PULO) may have wanted to establish an independent Pattani state, up until 28 April these organizations had done nothing to make such a political separation practically viable under the prevailing conditions in the world today. There has been no serious attempt to gain the recognition, understanding, and sympathy of the world’s superpowers for a new, would-be political entity. There has not even been any dissemination to the outside world of the sufferings of the Melayu Muslim people under the rule of the Thai Buddhist state.


In today’s world, political separation from a state that has the economic and political importance of Thailand cannot be achieved without the recognition, at least implicitly, of the superpowers. In this respect, the United States, China, the European Union, Japan, or even ASEAN countries, stand to benefit more from Thailand’s stability, national integrity, and tranquility than from its disintegration and the resulting chaos.


The on-going activities of the militants, such as the assassination of state officials, the attacks carried out on small government security forces, and the burnings of schools and government offices, are certainly not a viable means of establishing an independent state. It is impossible for the militants to defeat the Thai armed forces. Moreover, the more they carry out these types of operations, the more they stand to lose in terms of their own manpower. And careless operations that result in the loss of mass support, such as school burnings, make it even less likely that they will be able to defeat the Thai state through the use of violence. At the same time their ability to foment unrest is even more restricted.


The Thai public cannot sympathize with these violent operations, and political separation from the Thai state would certainly require its consent. Yet the separatist movement has never seriously attempted to communicate its position to the Thai public (it is only recently that some organizations’ leaflets have begun to be written in Thai; formerly they were all written in the local Malay dialect and in Jawi script). The actions of the militants, therefore, would seem only to result in the strengthening of the Thai public’s opposition to the separatists.


The question is whether these organizations have ever seriously thought of achieving their goal of a separate state, or whether they just use secessionist sentiment in order to mobilize the small people in armed uprisings – while their real objective is simply to achieve a stronger bargaining position in negotiations.


These organizations have never laid out their plans for a viable future state. Some PULO statements have referred to an abundance of natural resources in the “Melayu Pattani” territory. While it may be true that this area has natural resources, what exactly these natural resources consist of has never been made clear in their statements (PULO has mentioned the existence of gold mines, but in reference to the past). It would appear that PULO itself does not have any clear plan as to who, in an independent Pattani state, would have access to these resources and how these resources would be distributed to the people; what the role of the 20 percent of the population that is not Melayu Muslim who dominate the urban economy would be; and how to deal with those outside capitalists who have invested in fisheries and related industries, so that these abundant resources could be used in a way that is fair to every party.


Moreover, the cultural identity of this new Pattani state is even less clear, other than the use of the local dialect and Islam. Would this new state be an Islamic state? But what is referred to as an “Islamic state” can have varying degrees of intensity. How Islamic would this newly constituted Pattani state be?


People always speak of Pattani’s glory in the past, but the resurrection of Pattani history did not come about through the efforts of the separatist movement. The latter part of the Hikayat Pattani was a work written by Ibrahim Syukri whose name, as far as I know, is not linked with any separatist movement. Moreover, the Melayu manuscript that was disseminated in mimeograph form was written in Rumi script in high Melayu, which means that most common people could not read it. In fact, it is the Thai version translated by an academic institution belonging to the Thai state that has been more widely published than the original version itself, and it has also been widely cited in Thai academic works.


Amidst this absence of ideology, the Kreuse mosque became the only tangible cultural symbol for the villagers. The attempt to revive the Pattani kris, or the search for and reproduction of ancient technologies, were projects carried out by Thai academics (in collaboration with local villagers) and were funded by the Thailand Research Fund, which is a Thai government agency. It was represented in the Thai academic community as the local culture of the Thai state. There is no context for a Pattani state independent of Thai political authority, either in the past or in the future.


I believe that the separatist organizations do dream of an independent Pattani state, or at least one free of the “oppression” of the Thai state. But these organizations, and especially the militants, have only a vague idea of this fantasy. But that is unimportant, because the imaginary Pattani state they dream of is just a symbol, or more specifically, a utopian state … something – anything – except the reality of today. No one has been able to conceptualize a viable state, so what we have instead is a fantasy state. It has no future reality, since there are no real means in the present to realize the ideal.


Even one of PULO’s own statements, which claims that “with the natural resources from both the land and the sea we could build a country as rich as Brunei, our brother,” suggests that this is all just about a utopian state.


As for Islam, certain high-ranking state officials and some secret intelligence reports have attempted to connect this social movement to international Muslim fundamentalism, both in terms of funding sources and ideology. In fact, no one has ever been able to provide any concrete evidence to prove this fantasy. Some intelligence reports have compiled biographies of foreign Muslims who have come to teach in several schools and pondoks in the South, but there is not a single piece of intelligence that clearly demonstrates that they are a risk to national security. Most of them were not granted extensions to their stay from the Immigration Department. So they simply went to Malaysia and clandestinely re-entered the country as tourists and stayed illegally, which is no different to those migrant laborers who fled poverty in their own countries to work in Thailand. One foreigner suspected of undermining Thai national security who had secretly re-entered from Malaysia could not find his former teaching job and so turned to smuggling illegal beef from Malaysia. He was certainly not a learned ulama who could gain a faithful following from the people. He was not conversant with the ideology of Islamic fundamentalism and did not seem to be a devoted follower of the doctrine of those radical militant groups such as Al Qaeda. He was just a man living as an itinerant, struggling to survive a poverty-stricken life in today’s borderless world.


If we consider the “Islamic” aspects of the militants’ behavior, it to consist simply of the common principles with which every Muslim is familiar. There is nothing to suggest that the militants or any of the various organizations have any profound knowledge of Islam. The police and military like to link the movement and the militants to religious teachers (toh khru) or foreign Islamic scholars. But even if a real relationship does exist, there is no profound Islamic teaching in this social movement. There is no document that explains the separatist rationality in sophisticated religious doctrine. One PULO statement purportedly quoted the Qur’an as declaring that “it is forbidden to live under kafir (heathen) rule; in fact those who take a kafir as their ruler will never achieve success, either in this world or in the next.” However, the Islamic experts that the author has consulted said there is no such verse in the Qur’an, and verses that do exist of a similar nature could be interpreted in many ways. Moreover, the statement’s call, “Awake, brothers of Melayu Pattani and Melayu brothers everywhere! Awake to fight against Siamese injustice in every form!” is certainly not aimed at a Muslim audience.


Some newspapers reported that some of the dead militants wore shirts on the back of which was written in Arabic script, “There is no god but God.” This declaration in Arabic is as familiar to every Muslim as the beginning of the Buddhist prayer, “Namo tassa,” is to every Buddhist. It is the first half of the declaration of faith in Arabic which every Muslim has to pronounce, “There is no god but Allah and the Prophet Muhammad is his Messenger.”[4]


Some media sources mentioned other messages written in Arabic script on the clothes of those killed, which they loosely translated as “let me die for God.” In fact, “Lâ ilâha illâ Allah” means, according to the villagers of Datoh village, “there is no god worthy of worship except Allah” (in fact, this is simply the first half of the declaration of faith, as mentioned above). Traditionally, when a sick person is gravely ill, his relatives and friends will lead him in uttering the first half of the declaration, because it is believed that Prophet Muhammad also uttered this phrase before his death (Srisakra, p.33).


Therefore, the most that the Arabic text written on the clothes of the militants could mean is that they were ready to die. Or, they may have used this important declaration for Muslims as a kind of mantra, for what other Arabic phrase could be more “sacred” to the Muslim villagers than this?


Similarly, the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” or “God is great,” which according to some media reports the militants cried out during their attacks, is a phrase in praise of God that is familiar to Muslims around the world and has been uttered for centuries. And it could also be understood to be a “sacred” word.


All these elements suggest that the militants’ understanding of Islam is rather basic and does not differ significantly from the knowledge of Islam that is common among ordinary Muslims. This also appears to be in line with the conclusion mentioned above, that this social movement is not related to the traditional elite. The militants’ knowledge of Islam is hardly very profound in comparison with that of the toh khru.


(In fact, despite police and government claims, there is no proof whatsoever of relations between the militants and the pondok schools. For example, whenever there is a report that weapons are hidden in some pondok schools, the security forces that are sent to investigate have never been able to find any evidence of illegal activities. The government always concludes that the failure to find weapons is due to intelligence leaks… So, if weapons are found it confirms the government’s suspicions; but if they are not found its suspicions still remain. When will the government cast suspicion upon its own suspicions?)


There has been another media report that could lead to a further misunderstanding. The villagers who were the relatives of the dead militants did not arrange the bathing ceremony for the dead. Some media sources said that this was based on the belief that those who died in the path of God should not be bathed before burial. But according to Muslim custom in southern Thailand, people who have died from drowning, or have been burnt to death, or have been killed by wild animals, or have been left dead for several days, or have died defending their country or religion, similarly will not be bathed (Srisakra, p.18) (they are all examples of violent death). This is related to the idea of cleanliness which is very important in Islam. Therefore, the relatives’ insistence that they would not perform the bathing ceremony for the dead is quite normal Muslim practice that does not necessarily have any political significance.


The reaction that the militants have towards the Thai state, therefore, does not originate from any new political or religious ideology with which they have recently been indoctrinated. But, as I wish to argue in this essay, the change that has affected the villagers has not come from any ideology. The problem is related rather to the impact of economic and social changes on the villagers’ lives.


Indeed, in contrast to Islam, if we follow the reports that have been disseminated in the media, the author feels that it is supernatural beliefs (which are forbidden in Islam) that have played the more significant role in this conflict.


Some media sources reported that on 28 April 2004 the militants wore strings of beads (some reports say they were white) and wrapped their heads with red headbands. While the media gave considerable attention to the red headbands because they were comparable to those worn by the Hamas group in Palestine, the author is rather more interested in the strings of beads they wore. What is the reason they wore these strings of beads, which are not required by Islam and are not a necessary element of Islamic prayer? The Islamic sect that commonly uses strings of beads is the Sufi, whom the mainstream Sunni sect does not particularly approve of. In the history of Islam, the Sufi have rebelled against the Sunni ulama and their governments many times, and these rebellions have also been suppressed by the Sunni many times. But a string of beads is merely an instrument for use in Sufi meditation rather than a talisman giving the wearer powers of invulnerability. The reason those Sufi “rishi” [ascetics] wore strings of beads around their necks was in order to prevent them from being lost.


It appears that the militants’ knowledge of Sufism was not particularly profound. The Sabayoi youth stated that they were followers of “Latthi Supri” [Sufism]. (Note the pronunciation of this word; there is no “f” sound in the Melayu language, therefore Arabic words that contain this consonant may be pronounced in two ways, either with an “f” or a “p” sound, which is the closest sound in the Melayu tongue. Whereas educated people can pronounce the “f” sound, ordinary villagers would pronounce this consonant as a “p” sound. For example, the Arabic word faham – meaning to understand – would likely be pronounced by villagers as “paham.” Thus the youths’ reference to Sufism as “Supri” or “Supi” is a reflection of their level of familiarity with authentic Sufism). These youths said that according to Sufi principles they had to perform the “ma-umna” ceremony before carrying out the operation, which consisted of meditating, chanting sacred verses, and counting the “gacabek” or strings of beads. This ceremony was secretly performed in a cave for one month. When they were ready to begin the operation they had to drink a cup of sacred water (Matichon, 2 May 2004).


This chanting of sacred verses before carrying out the attacks on the police posts was reported in almost all the media. One TV channel reported that the police found sacred verse on the body of one of the dead militants. However, when the police investigated its origin, they found it belonged to a young Muslim man who was not one of the militants. He testified that he was indeed the owner of the sacred verse, but that it in fact had belonged to his deceased father who had been a police warrant officer. The sacred verse gave the owner powers of invulnerability, for example, the ability to conceal oneself from the enemy and to protect oneself from weapons. One of the dead militants had asked him for the sacred verse, but he did not know what they were going to do with it.


Another report from the Kreuse mosque stated that each of the militants had to drink a kind of blue liquid before carrying out the attack. The author believes this drink was sacred water rather than a drug.[5]


The belief that they were protected by supernatural powers gave the militants such courage on 28 April 2004 that the Thai Army Commander acknowledged in an interview that, “from our experience in battle we have never encountered such wild, fearless, exceptional fighters” (Matichon, 2 May 2004). Just as in militant uprisings in the past, when the combatants depended on supernatural powers and found that the sacred verses could not protect them from the enemy, they fled to save their lives, as in the case of the 16 bodies found in Sabayoi district. After losing their friends in the attack, the militants fled and hid themselves in a local restaurant, but were pursued by the security forces who killed them all. In the case of the incident at Kreuse mosque, although we are not yet clear as to what actually happened, the release of three hostages (Bangkok Post, 29 April 2004) suggests there was a possibility of negotiation with the militants. It seems they had begun to doubt the efficacy of their supernatural powers.


Millenarian Rebellions


The author has presented this account of the facts in order to argue that there is no way of understanding this social movement in southern Thailand if we rely solely on the theory (or perspective) that focuses on the “ringleader,” or that attempts to explain only certain phenomena while totally neglecting many other related phenomena. The theories presented by government leaders and certain officials in the bureaucracy contradict one another (and sometimes even contradict themselves) and are unable to explain all these phenomena.


The author would like to argue that any theory that is to fully explain this social movement must focus on the large numbers of “small people” who participated in the uprisings. It is they who form the real substance of this social movement, and this movement must be understood as a twentieth-first century “millenarian” rebellion.


“Millenarian movements,” which are referred to in Thai as “peasant revolts” (kabot chao na) or “Phra Sri-arn rebellions” (kabot phra sri-arn), are resistance movements of the small people at the local level, for example, peasants, rubber-tapping laborers working deep in the thick jungle, coastal fishermen, itinerant animal herders, miners, indigenous people, etc. These small people have regularly risen up in opposition to changes they can not very well understand other than the fact that the changes have come from the outside and are having a devastating effect on their lives. These outside forces are typically the central government or its officials, outside traders, capital and outside capitalists (since the villagers tend to possess a means of dealing with local capitalists, i.e. accusing them of being blood-sucking spirits), new religious organizations, etc.


Because these changes affected the small people worldwide in the nineteenth century, that century witnessed millenarian uprisings in many countries. And because there is a wealth of information about these social movements, the millenarian movements of the nineteenth century have been employed as a model to explain similar movements in other centuries. One must be aware, however, in presenting an explanation based on the pattern of millenarian revolts in previous centuries, of the different global context that exists today. For example, better communications can facilitate peasant uprisings over a larger area compared to the locally-based operations of the past. The organizational capacity of movements is also more efficient, not to mention advances in technology which have produced much more lethal weaponry.


As mentioned above, the small people do not clearly understand the changes that are affecting their lives, thus they do not know who their real enemy is. Their mobilization of force is not directed at any specific targets. They tend to target their enemy’s symbols rather than the enemy itself, since the enemy is most often an outsider and out of reach of the anger of these small people. One example of these millenarian movements in Thailand was the Ngiaw rebellion in Phrae in the late nineteenth century. The rebels sought to kill only the “Thai people” in the local area of northern Thailand, specifically referring to the officials dispatched from the central government. In the case of contemporary southern Thailand, those officials who have been attacked were low-ranking policemen or soldiers, teachers, district or village heads, and even hospital guards. Most of the government offices that have been targeted in arson attacks were abandoned or remote police checkpoints. All of these targets are so small that their loss is hardly even felt by the Thai state which they consider their enemy. One villager in Yaring commented that if the militants really wanted to burn down schools, they could carry out arson attacks on schools every day. But the burning down of schools is a symbolic gesture, so they selectively attack only those schools that are located close to the street and are easily accessible, which is more dangerous than burning down a remote school which is far from the government officials (Note from a conversation between academics and villagers, in Srisakra, p.29).


With regard to ideology and organization, these small people tend not to think in complex ideological terms. Their thinking derives for the most part from popular religion and is not particularly closely related to religious organizations. Their religious beliefs are therefore not those of the learned religious scholar. As in “peasant rebellions” led by religious leaders, such as that of Chao Phra Fang following the fall of Ayuthaya in 1767, the leader often adopts unorthodox religious practices which deviate from the norms of organized religion; i.e., it was said that Chao Phra Fang dressed himself in a red monastic robe. At the same time the leaders rely on supernatural powers, which is consistent with the nature of millenarian rebellions that tend to depend upon the leader’s personal charisma. For example, in the “Holy Men rebellion” during the reign of King Chulalongkorn, the leaders were former monks who had spent periods of their lives in monasteries and could perform supernatural acts, such as placing their hand in boiling oil, etc. Such beliefs are also consistent with the limited weaponry available to peasant rebellions. Most of the weapons they use are easily available agricultural tools.



Because millenarian movements are a reaction to undesirable changes – for example, the shift from tax in kind or service to monetary taxation – or to the peasants’ exclusion from access to natural resources which they had previously used freely – such as the prohibition on wood-cutting in the forest – the ideology of millenarian movements is often based around the promise of a coming utopia or an ideal state in which everyone is equal, extending to relations between men and women, or in which there is no private property. Such idealism is often taken from the ideals of the small agricultural communities they are familiar with and is easily understood by the general “peasantry.”


And because millenarian movements originate among the small people, who do not enjoy significant political connections, these movements are often not linked to the traditional elite. For example, they are not linked to leaders in the religious establishment, the intelligentsia, local political leaders, state officials, or capitalists. (However, they may receive covert support from certain parties who take advantage of “peasant rebellions” in order to acquire power and influence; for example, it was believed that the Ngiaw rebellion in Phrae was secretly supported by some local rulers). The absence of the traditional elite means that the space for resistance available to millenarian movements is limited, not just in geographical terms but also in terms of politics, the mass media, academia, religion, education, and the economy. In most cases, these spaces for struggle are completely closed off to them. Thereby, they have only one space left: resistance to authority. If this provokes government suppression, then armed conflict is likely to be the response.


The author believes that we can only explain the current large-scale social movement in southern Thailand by viewing it as a millenarian revolt. The difference between it and nineteenth-century examples are only found in the changed global context mentioned above. For example, some news reports stated that the signal given for the commencement of operations on 28 April 2004 was a local radio program popular throughout lower southern Thailand. Such internal organization is of course more efficient than the millenarian rebellions of the nineteenth century, but only because of modern communications technology.


The relationship that exists between the militants and the traditional elite, whether they be the toh khru, imams, local politicians, or even former anti-government organizations, is rather superficial, or at least a deeper relationship has yet to be proven.[6] Therefore the association of this movement with the long succession of Pattani “rebellions” that have occurred over the last century explains nothing. In fact, this movement represents a decisive break from former political movements, since all of those movements were led by the traditional elite, whether they were descendants of the royal families, toh imam, or local politicians (all of whom were part of the elite of Thai society, or to put it in other words, were already an advantaged group in Thai society …one need only look at the background of Wan Muhammad Noor Matha, Den Tohmeena, Aripen Uttarasin, etc. These people have already “invested” heavily in Thai society and the Thai system, and at the same time have reaped considerable “profits” from it, in the same way as those who have been able to devote long periods of time to religious study and have become toh khru or toh imam – to the extent that these positions in many areas have been the preserve of certain leading families – or those who have traveled to Mecca for the Haj and have returned as Hajji). Thus it is rather difficult for this elite – both the traditional elite and the new elite that has emerged from modern changes – to participate in a social movement that lacks a clear objective or a practical means of achieving it. Furthermore, what could be said to be the movement’s objectives are certainly not in their interest, and might even directly conflict with their interests.


However, this does not mean that the villagers lack the historical knowledge that would relate their movement to the past. The villagers do retain their own version of Pattani history in their memories. The villagers of Datoh village can remember that a tomb surrounded by a fence in Yaring cemetery belongs to a Pattani ruler and his royal family. They know that this ruler was a former Trengganu king who once ruled Pattani but fled after being attacked and defeated by Thai forces. Therefore, no one brings their dead to be buried in this cemetery, and no one has ever visited this tomb (Srisakra, pp.19-20). But as mentioned above, this movement is a millenarian revolt, not the continuation of a struggle against the Thai state by the traditional elite.


If there is any relationship with the movements in the past, it might be with the Duson Nyoir incident of 1948.


The author does not know whether the choice of 28 April for the date of the militants’ operation was intentionally made to coincide with that of the Duson Nyoir uprising or not. If it was, it surely demonstrates that this was indeed a “millenarian rebellion,” because the Duson Nyoir incident was certainly a real, authentic millenarian rebellion. It began with villagers taking part in a supernatural ceremony to confer upon themselves the power of invulnerability in their fight against Malayan Chinese bandits who had plundered the community’s provisions and food stores. When government officials became suspicious of their conduct the villagers became angry and eventually fighting and killing broke out[7] with the objective of eliminating state authority from the community. There does not appear to have been any clear political objective beyond this.


If the militants wanted to link their movement with the Duson Nyoir uprising, it is particularly interesting, since the only movement that the militants considered related to their movement was a famous millenarian revolt.


Although millenarian revolts are movements of the small people from the lowest class, this does not mean that other people do not become involved in order to manipulate the movement to their own advantage (as mentioned above). The former anti-government organizations such as PULO or BRN certainly want to link themselves to the movement (but as mentioned above, the author feels that these links are not particularly close). Competition between local politicians is also likely to lead other people to become involved based on political interest. Despite this, the author still maintains that the heart of the movement is the low-ranking small people, and that other parties are only marginally involved.


Factors Contributing to the “Peasant Revolt”


Over the last few decades the three or four provinces in the lower part of southern Thailand have experienced profound changes. We might sum up these changes as being the result of the expansion of national capital (that is linked to transnational capital), which has led to villagers’ dispossession of natural resources from the villagers, some of whom have been unable to adapt to the changes. The author would like to refer here to the experience of Ajan Srisakra Vallibotama in the Pattani Bay, which clearly demonstrates these changes:


“Over the last ten years I have witnessed … economic and social changes from Ban Bangpu to Panareh and Yaring. Internal changes include a coconut plantation around the bay that was turned into a shrimp farm. As for those changes influenced by external factors, the villagers have organized demonstrations against the fleets of large fishing trawlers. According to the villagers these trawlers were accompanied by a fisheries research vessel belonging to the Department of Fisheries. Trawlers with push nets owned by capitalists in the fish export industry are wiping out the shellfish. These trawlers can catch tens of tonnes of shellfish each day, and have devastated many different kinds of marine life. At that time local fishermen used the local koleh offshore fishing boats that could catch at most 12 kilograms of fish a day.”[8]


Today this fleet of large fishing trawlers owned by outside capitalists has devastated fish stocks and marine resources in Pattani Bay. The villagers’ response to this deterioration of the ecosystem is very limited, and in some cases might even be leading to an acceleration of the process of deterioration. Srisakra has described the changes that have taken place in the Pattani bay:


“Three or 4 years ago when I returned to Panareh the villagers had been forced to increase their catches of fish; from 12 kilograms previously it had increased to 20-30 kilograms per day. The once clean seashore had become dirty, littered with rubbish, decomposing fish, crabs, and shells (meaning that people have less time for common concerns). Shrimp farms had replaced the coconut plantations. These were some of the changes that had taken place within these communities in response to external changes.”[9]


Outside capitalists are increasingly arriving, seeking opportunities in the Pattani area. The author has witnessed the daughter of a Muslim family in Rusamilae village who must leave for work as early as 2 a.m. A car is sent to pick her up to sort fish at the pier where fish are landed and auctioned daily. She has to work with male laborers who carry baskets of fish from the boats, which appears to conflict greatly with local custom which regards women as the family’s honor. The fishermen have to go into debt, borrowing money to install engines in the native koleh boats; since there are no more fish left close to the shore they are forced to go further out into the open sea. And because they go further into debt they have to catch more fish, which means they need bigger and more powerful engines, with the result that they are endlessly in debt. Meanwhile, women also work now on the fishing boats in the open sea, despite the traditional custom forbidding women from setting foot on the koleh.


Social relationships within the community have also changed from mutual dependence to contractual relationships between capitalists and wage laborers. Srisakra argues that the relationship has become one of profit-seeking and exploitation. The outside capitalists who have come to invest differ from local capitalists with whom the villagers are familiar: their relationship is based solely on employment, and the distant capitalists may not even set foot in the locality. The villagers at Chana (Songkhla) were unable negotiate with factory owners who have drained polluted water into their paddy fields. Similarly, villagers who own agricultural land close to shrimp farms have been forced to abandon agriculture as a result. Naturally, appeals to government agencies are useless; gossip and backbiting, which were once very effective as a social control mechanism, have become useless in the present situation.


The author has no statistics relating to investment by outside capitalists in rubber plantations or other industries in the three southern provinces, but I have heard from the local people that it is quite considerable. Wherever the villagers turn they meet people with whom they are unable to develop a power relationship based on a more equal footing, either locals who have transformed themselves into new capitalists, or outside capitalists. At the same time the villagers have less access to natural resources. They are increasingly being forced to sell their private property and turn themselves into wage laborers, making it difficult for them to sustain a traditional culture that has roots in a different social and economic structure.


What these small people in the lower southern provinces have experienced in the last few decades has been their impoverishment in every respect. They have been unable to respond successfully to the ever-encroaching changes that have pressed down upon them. One last recourse considered by the villagers is entry into the educational system, but this path is not open to very many. One villager in Yaring district remarked that today there are so many Muslims who want to study that there are not enough places for them. They believe that Prince of Songkhla University in Pattani does not maintain a quota for local students like other universities (in fact, Prince of Songkhla University in Pattani does maintain a quota, but like other regional universities it only gives attention to the quota percentage, not to differences between students from country areas and those from towns and cities). Some villagers question how Muslim students who are not fluent in Thai can compete with other Thai students if the universities employ a centrally determined standard for student entrance.


So even if they try to adapt themselves to the capitalist system there is simply no opportunity for them to do so. Their future is full of darkness because they simply do not know how to live amidst changes they are unable to respond to.


In fact, this fate is not limited to the Melayu Muslims, but is the same fate of other small Thai people. But for reasons the author will not go into in detail here (problems related to identity, or the fact that although they may share a similar sense of alienation in regard to their identity, other factors limit their alternatives), small people in other regions choose to struggle within the existing political system, for example, the Assembly of the Poor, the Forum of Indigenous People, etc., while the Melayu Muslims have chosen to pursue their struggle outside the system.


“Peasant Revolt” and the Modern State


In traditional states, millenarian uprisings were actually able to destroy the state or, in many cases, at least shake its foundations. For example, the Tayson rebellion in Vietnam was able to topple the Le dynasty and establish an alternative (to the extent that it could be called ‘revolutionary’) political regime over Vietnam until it was crushed by the Nguyen family and the Gia Long dynasty. In China, the Taiping rebellion shook the foundations of the Ch’ing dynasty and was able to control over half of China before it was defeated. Chu Yuan-chang, the founder of the Ming dynasty, was in fact the leader of a millenarian movement, but because he received the support of the Chinese intellectuals, he was able to establish a new dynasty to rule China using an old model.


However, for modern states millenarian movements are merely a minor nuisance. The militants’ forces are limited to a quite restricted area, whereas the state has become much more powerful, both in organization and military technology. Society in a modern state is also much more complex. The peasantry’s interests may conflict with those of other interest groups who, though they may not be in the majority, are greater in number and have more political and social influence (i.e., the middle class or the upwardly mobile lower class). In terms of social space, then, millenarian movements are even more limited. Moreover, politics in the modern state has opened up opportunities for those who have the money, education, or organizational skills to enter into and negotiate with the existing order – and clearly these are not the “peasants.”


Even the Siamese absolutist state, which underwent transformation into a modern state in the late nineteenth century, was able to deal with numerous millenarian rebellions that took place throughout the country with little difficulty. It did so by employing its newly established standing army to decisively crush the rebels. Furthermore, it was able to maintain the policies that had caused so much dissatisfaction among the “peasants” even though it had to delay the enforcement of those policies in certain areas.


The lack of a sophisticated ideology which could incorporate the social practices of other groups led to the isolation of millenarian movements. In Thailand, the late nineteenth century peasant revolt in the northeast has been represented as a movement based on the personal interests of the leaders, the phi bun [“Holy Men”], while the peasants’ suffering was ignored and eventually forgotten by society.


Therefore, there has not been a single millenarian revolt in a modern state that has been able to destabilize the state or its government.


In the case of southern Thailand today, in the final analysis there is absolutely no way that the militants’ actions can affect the state’s territorial integration (despite the government’s poor handling of the situation and its resort to bloody killings). However, the possibility of a permanent, peaceful solution to the conflict in the south does not depend only on the activities of the militants. While the uprising itself is not difficult to crush, those “peasants” who are most severely affected by their exclusion from access to resources may join other forms of anti-government political action that are not millenarian movements, in the same way that many “peasants” in Thailand once joined forces with the Communist Part of Thailand. Or, the suffering of “peasants” could lead to other forms of unrest besides terrorism or attacks on government officials.


It should also be said that a modern state, especially in a developing country like Thailand, often resorts to violence and sometimes cruel and barbaric acts in dealing with millenarian revolts. It is difficult for developing states to understand the mentality of rebellious “peasants.” Often these people are different in terms of ethnicity, religion, culture, or language (such as the Moros in the Philippines, the Indians in Mexico, the indigenous people in Sarawak, the Melayu Muslims in southern Thailand, the Cham in Vietnam, the Rohingya in the Arakan region of Myanmar, etc). Even more significant is the difference in ideology. Millenarian rebellions usually fight to defend a traditional pattern of resource use. They oppose laws that open up natural resources for the use of people outside their community, laws that prohibit the villagers’ access to these resources, or policies that make the traditional use of natural resources by the villagers unprofitable or that redefine such use as a criminal act. Whereas the “peasants” require diversity in their use of natural resources, developing states need unity of usage (so as to determine priorities between, for example, fisheries and the construction of a dam or gas pipeline). “Peasants” prefer resources to be distributed to people according to their particular skills, while developing states require the centralization of resource use in order to “maximize” their utility to create income for the country. The demands of the “peasants” are thus in direct conflict with the “development” model. There is no way for a developing state to compromise with them without utterly destroying its legitimacy as a developing state.


These differences mean that modern states – especially developing states – do not look upon millenarian movements in a particularly humane way. It is not possible to explain that the rebellious peasants are backward people who are being drawn into the modern world (development) which is the basis of the state’s legitimacy, because “they” are rebels; they cannot be bought, they cannot be lured, and they are unwilling to accept compensation for their losses. So they must be wiped out, and the easiest way (but perhaps not the most successful) is to exterminate them. More than ten thousand Zapatista rebels (who used mostly sickles, knives, and hatchets, similar to the militants on 28 April) were killed by the Mexican government. The author feels that even the communists are accorded far more respect as “enemies” of the state than are the “peasant rebels.”


What is the “Peaceful” Way Out?


Everyone agrees that we should resolve the problem through “peaceful means.” But this phrase means more than simply not killing people with weapons; it should include refraining from the use of violence of any form. From the point of view of the author, the lack of “peace” in the South is a result of the state’s development policy that has allowed the penetration of capital to exclude the small people from access to natural resources, while the state has neither the ability nor the intent to control the situation and produce a just solution. At the same time, the state does not (in practice) provide opportunities to help the small people gradually adjust and develop skills that would enable them to compete in the capitalist market without being at a disadvantage with other groups.


All these factors are part of the violence and are a long way from the real meaning of “peace.”


The author fully agrees with other proposals (such as that of Deputy Prime Minister Chaturon Chaisaeng) to try to overcome the state of mutual suspicion by ensuring that justice is applied through the strict application of the law, and to get rid of state agencies that are responsible for creating conditions of mutual hatred. But this is not enough, because the violence will not be eliminated until improvements are made to the development policy to make it truly equitable.


The author hopes that this essay will help the public see more clearly the complexity of the situation in the south and join together to push for changes to these unjust development policies. But the author has only a faint hope, since it is well known that this is a major issue affecting the interests of a large number of capitalists, all of whom currently enjoy political power. When one looks to the media or the middle class, who are in the best position to exert pressure on the government, they appear to be blindly following the leadership of the developing state. So peoples’ deaths have become a mere commodity that is exchanged between security officials and “peasant rebels,” like a figure recorded when a goal is scored in a football game.





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[1] By “peasant” (chao na) here I do not mean only the self-sufficient petty agriculturalist, but other small people in various occupations, i.e. miners, rubber-tappers, charcoal burners, etc. Nevertheless, Thai academics tend to refer to a social movement of this nature as a “peasant rebellion” to suit the Thai context. [Translator’s note: the Thai term, kabot chao na, may be translated either as a “millenarian revolt” or “peasant revolt.”]

I would also like to warn the reader that the information that I have been able to access about the situation in southern Thailand is for the most part unreliable. The government has intentionally deceived the public or covered up the facts, or does not actually know the true situation, and the same is true of the opposing party. The mass media has also not done its homework thoroughly enough. Apart from the problem of unreliable information there is simply so little of it since most of the attention has focussed only on the details of the actual incident itself.

[2] PULO is the acronym of the Pattani United Liberation Organization; BRN, the Barisan Rakyat Nasional (People’s National Front); and, Bersatu, the United Front for the Independence of Pattani.

[3] A Swedish newspaper has featured an interview with Samsuddin Khan, a senior member of PULO currently living in exile in Sweden, who claimed that his organization was responsible for the attack on April 28 however, according to the Thai 4th Region Army Commander, this claim is unreliable (Bangkok Post, 13 May 2004).

[4] Translated from an account by villagers, cited in “Khrongkan sueksa kanplianplang thang sangkhom lae watthanatham koranisueksa bandato lae ban phumi amphor yaring changwat pattani” [A research project on social and cultural change, A case study of Bandato and Banphumi, Amphor Jering, Pattani], a villager-researcher training project coordinated by Srisakara Vallibhotama, p.32.

[5] Four men who participated in the 28 April operation and surrendered themselves to the governor of the Yala province confessed during interrogation by the 4th Army that before carrying out the operation, following evening prayers on 27 April, they were given a sacred water. After drinking this sacred water, they were told, they would be invisible to the police (Bangkok Post, 13 May 2004).

[6] A military report into the incident stated that the 28 April operation was led by a new separatist organization, namely the Pemuda Bersatu (Youth Unity). But it is not yet clear whether this new organ is part of a shadowy network composed of several other organizations or is a new group operating independently. The 4th Army Commander suspects that this new organization does not have any links to the older ones (Bangkok Post, 13 May 2004).

[7] See the report by Thanawat Chae-un, Matichon, 5 May 2004, which, while differing in certain details from research done by certain academics, is consistent with the main points.

[8] Srisakra’s speech, “Kha ma, Kha hen, Kha khaochai: Pattani kab khwam lalang thang watthanatham thi yang thamrong khwam pen manut” [I came, I saw, I understood: Pattani and cultural backwardness that retains a sense of humanity], p.5.

[9] “Khrongkan sueksa kanplianplang thang sangkhom lae watthanatham,” pp.5-6.

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