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Saturday, June 30, 2007

Sewage Sludge as Fertilizer in Soybean Production

by
Tawadchai Suppadit
The Graduate Program in Environmental Management, School of Social Development and Environment, National Institute of Development
Administration, Bangkapi, Bangkok 10240, Thailand



This research sought to study the growth, yield, yield components, seed quality, including nutrient and heavy metal content of soybean cultivar Chiang Mai 60 (CM. 60) by using sewage sludge from domestic wastewater treatment as fertilizer. The experiment used a completely randomized design, divided in 6 treatments with 4 replications and was conducted from February to June, 2004. Sewage sludge was mixed with soil at the rate of 5, 10, 15
and 20% by weight, and chemical fertilizer (12-24-12) was applied at the rate of 10 grams/basin.

The results showed that soybean growth, yield, yield components, seed quality, protein and lipid were significant (P<0.05), showing the best potential productivity at 5% by weight and being better than chemical fertilizer. The residues of heavy metals (lead, cadmium and mercury) accumulated in leaves and seeds, including in soil before and after the study were also significant (P<0.05) related to the quantity of sewage sludge used. Soil nutrients of all treatments were also significant (P<0.05). The data varied similarly to the residues of heavy metals. The replacement of sewage sludge for chemical fertilizer in plant production including soybean could be as a nutrient source. However, it must used in an appropriate rate. Moreover that, it should not be used in plants for human and animal consumption because heavy metals may accumulate in plant products.

Key words : nutrient, potential productivity, heavy metal

Introduction
The extensive communities and industrial developments continue to cause environmental problems from amounts of water waste and pollutions in Thailand (Suppadit, 2003). Domestic wastewater is one of these problems which is related to community growth and population increase. Water pollution is caused by wastewater discharge or leakage, or discharge without control and treatment. In the future, clean water for consumption may not be available in Thailand (Suppadit, 2004). Therefore, the Thailand government tries to improve water quality with the proper operation of wastewater treatment systems. The major aim of wastewater treatment is to remove as much as possible suspended solids before the remaining water is discharged back to the environment. After treatment, sludge content is about 60.0 grams/person/day (Tunnukit, 1999) which differs in type, characteristics, and composition depending on water utilization activities of these communities (Chawsithiwong, 2000). Sludge is composed of organic compounds, nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium at levels of 50.0-80.0, 2.50-5.00, 1.50-2.00, and 0.020-0.500 percent/dry weight, respectively (Suntornvongsagul, 1994). At present management sewage sludge involves discharging it to public lands (Suppadit, 2004) which still has many problems for environment. A new concept for sewage sludge management involves its use as a fertilizer for crop production, including field and vegetable crops (Sermviriyakul, 2004). This study sought to apply sewage sludge to replace chemical fertilizers. This method may decrease the costs of soybean production, improve the environmental health and safety in long-term period and provide evidence for sewage sludge management in a community.

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Friday, June 29, 2007

Intertextuality as Discourse Strategy:The Case of No-Confidence Debates in Thailand

by
Savitri Gadavanij
School of Language and Communication, National Institute of Development Administration



The discourse of Thai parliamentary no-confidence debates is intended to be formal in nature, and is defined as such by the constitution and relevant parliamentary regulations. However, the reality of this ‘parliamentary’ discourse does not always meet this idea. There is evidence of mixed genres and the combination of the language user’s (henceforth S) voice and other’s throughout the discourse of the debate. The combination of genres and voices in the discourse represents two levels of intertextuality (Chouliaraki and Fairclough, 1999 : 49).

This paper argues that intertextuality is part of the in-built structure of the no-confidence debate discourse which operates in the face of three competing conjunctures: the debate’s purpose, its multiple audiences and its code of behaviour. Intertextuality reflects the struggle of the members of the Thai parliament ot balance three purposes: the desire of highly partisan debaters to cause maximum damage to the opposing side, there need to seek public support and the need to stay within the parliamentary codes of behaviour. In this light, intertextuality can be seen as a strategy enabling MPs to produce a kind of discourse that can serve these competing social and political purposes, and to do so within the constraints of its three conjunctures.

Introduction
This paper tries to analyse the role of intertextuality in Thai no-confidence debate discourse. It adopts
Chouliaraki and Fairclough’s 2-level definition of intertextuality; the combination of genre and the combination of voices within the discourse. It argues that this can be used as a strategy to produce the most effective discourse within that particular context. This hypothesis is based on the concept of genre as ‘a socially ratified way of using language in connection with a particular social practice’ (Fairclough, 1995 : 14) such as interview genre, narrative genre, parliamentary genre and the concept of voice as an indication of who the participants of the discourse are and what identity they assume. This paper adopts discourse analysis’s assumption that language has dialectical relationship with the society. Therefore, since genre and voice are the textual representation of the interface between
discourse and society, the changing articulation of genre and the use of more than one voice may have the potential to redefine the context within which the discourse takes place. In this light, it can also be seen as a discourse strategy.

We begin section 2 with some background on Thai no-confidence debates to enable the reader to appreciate the role of these debaters within Thai society. Also we move on to the linguistic literature in an attempt to define the term intertextuality. Section 3 describes the data used in the analysis and the scope of our study. Section 4 to Section 6 are the intertextual analysis. We adopt Chouliaraki and Fairclough’s Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) framework (Chouliaraki and Fairclough, 1999 : 60) to analyse no-confidence debates discourse. This framework is used in order to detect intertextuality in the discourse and how it works. The analytical framework starts with the analysis of conjunctures in Section 4, the analysis of the relevant social practices in Section 5 and the analysis of the discourse in Section 6. The overall outcome of the CDA analysis is discussed in Section 7.

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Alienated Life : Socio-Economic Characteristics of The Ultra Poor in Thailand

by
Medhi Krongkaew
Professor of Economics, School of Development Economics, NIDA, Bangkok, Thailand. I wish to thank the Thailand Research Fund (TRF)
in providing generous financial support 10 me as part of its TRF Senior Fellowship. This has enabled me to engage several of my friends and
colleagues in four regional universities to carry out this research on Ultra Poverty in the four regions of Thailand. This paper only highlights
few findings of each region. For that, I may have missed some important points that regional researchers would have given their stronger emphasis.
I, therefore, take full responsibility for its errors and shortcomings.



Introduction
One of the success stories about economic development of Thailand in the past 20 years is its record of
continuous reduction in the incidence of poverty defined as the proportion of Thai population having income lower than a designated ‘poverty line’. During the ‘economic boom’ periods in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the poverty incidence throughout the country fell so rapidly that, statistically, the incidence of some region (i.e. Bangkok) had approached zero, prompting some researchers to revise the poverty line upward to reflect the changes in population structure, nutritional requirements, consumption patterns, and prices.3 Then the crisis hit in 1997. As a result of a combination of various factors including mismanagement in the financial sectors, incorrect exchange rate and international finance policies, and fall in export earnings, Thailand lost most of its foreign reserves and was forced
to float its currency, which brought about massive capital outflows with ensuing negative effects on domestic financial, employment and general economic conditions. Companies went bankrupt, jobs lost, unemployment increased, and the average income of the Thai people declined. Between 1996 and 2000, the incidence of poverty has increased from 11.5 per cent in 1996 to 13.0 in 1998 to 15.9 in 1999, and finally to 15.0 in 2000.4 This level of poverty is roughly equivalent to the situation in 1995. In a word, Thailand has already lost 5 years of its economic development. If economic difficulties continue, the development and welfare losses can even be greater.

Yet, there is at least one group of the Thai population who are strangely relatively unaffected by this crisis. But the main reason for this is none other than the fact that they were not so much affected by the rapid economic growth that we have alluded to earlier in the first place either. Their lives have been practically alienated from the rest of the population for as long as they could remember. These are the ‘Ultra Poor’ of Thailand who live in the bottom rung of the Thai society, and seem to have always remained there. That is why a new word in Thai is coined to describe these people. We call them, in Thai, คนยากจนดักดาน(kon yak jon dak darn) of which ‘Ultra Poor’ or ‘Hard Core Poor’ is a close description.

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Empirical Evidence of Network Externality of Thailand’s Telephone System

by
Pipat Lueprasitsakul
School of Public Administration, National Institute of Development Administration.



Introduction

Telecommunications infrastructure is a crucial element for economic development, especially for developing countries. However, telephone service in developing countries is typically characterized by a supply that does not meet demand. This means that the telephone service may not be available in some areas, or that there may be delays in getting a telephone. In terms of telephone usage, it means that telephone calls may not go through during
peak hours because of congestion. As the Maitland Commission (1984) noted, telecommunication is a missing link in much of the developing world.

During 1980’s, the problem of telephone shortage in developing countries had been modestly reduced
because of changes in telecommunications technology and policy. Hudson (1995) found that the average growth of the telephone line capacity per 100 population in developing countries between 1980-1990 was many times higher
than the average growth of their per capita GNP. However, the average level of telephone line capacity per 100 population for the low-income and the lower middle-income economies was relatively low, i.e., 0.5 lines per 100 population and 5 lines per 100 population respectively. Thus, there is still a significant gap in the access to telecommunications between the industrialized and the developing countries.

In the case of Thailand, the provision of domestic telephone service was undertaken by a state-owned
monopoly-the Telephone Organization of Thailand (henceforth, TOT). The enterprise failed to cope with the soaring demand for telephones during the 1980’s. The requests for telephone service took many years to fill, and the service was available only in densely populated areas. The government took many measures through a number of National
Economic and Social Development Plans (NESDP) to alleviate the telephone shortage problem. During the 5th plan (1982-1986), meeting the market demand for telephone was already a national policy goal. The level of investment budgeted for network facilities increased four fold. During the 6th plan (1987-1991), the export boom in the late 1980’s and the early 1990’s pushed the telephone demand up to an unprecedented level. It was apparent that the telephone supply became a bottleneck of economic growth. The National Economic and Social Development Board (1987) proposed that the role of the private sector in national development should be enhanced both in production and in provision of infrastructure of services hitherto provided by the government and that the state should encourage private sector participation in investing and operating public communications services. For example, joint investments, leasing and partial or total takeovers will be allowed. Therefore, during the 7th plan (1992-1996) the government allowed the private sector to participate in telecommunications development through a number of build-transferoperate (BTO) projects.

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Monday, June 18, 2007

Sufficiency Economy is Philosophy or Economy System ?

Sufficiency Economy is Philosophy or Economy System ?

by Darksingha

What is Sufficiency Economy ? Between are Philosophy or Economy System or both. Unofficial translation from major trend of Thai Social(read about Thai Social at www.inthadark.bloggang.com ) that is to say Sufficiency Economy is Philosophy that emphasizes the middle path as an overriding principle for appropriate conduct by the populace at all levels as level of individuals, family, communities, nation in development and administration so as to modernize in line with the forces of globalization.

If consider only Sufficiency that don’t different with the Sufficiency Economy because Sufficiency in major trend is moderation, reasonableness and need of self-immunity for sufficient protection from impact arising from internal and external changes. To achieve this, an application of knowledge with due consideration and prudence is essential. In particular great care is needed in the utilization of theories and methodologies for planning and implementation in every step. At the same time, it is essential to strengthen the moral fibre of the nation, so that everyone, particularly public officials, academics, businessman at all level, adheres first and foremost to the principles of honesty and integrity. In addition, a way of life based on patience, perseverance, diligence, wisdom and prudence is indispensable to create balance and be able to cope appropriately with critical challenges arising from extensive and rapid socioeconomic, environmental, and cultural changes in the world.

From the means of Sufficiency Economy and Sufficiency therefore is a philosophy or way of a person in the individual level more than the Economy system because economic system is a mechanism (social institution) which deals with the production, distribution and consumption of goods and services in a particular society. The economic system is composed of people, institutions and their relationships to resources, such as the convention of property. It addresses the problems of economics, like the allocation and scarcity of resources

And the Sufficiency Economy in major trend of Thai Social don’t say structure relations in economic system between human with human, human with socioeconomic that still ability to appropriate surplus value of the stratified that is near center of power in The World Stratified Society. So the Sufficiency Economy in major trend of Thai Social therefore is Political Discourse that the major trend or liberal capitalist economy can appropriate explanation in social as though Sufficiency Economy is capital economy that have moral.
*can read article that concerning at www.asiaarticle.blogspot.com and www.aboutasean.blogspot.com

Confronting the Military in Thailand

Confronting the Military in Thailand
Monday, Jun. 11, 2007
By HANNAH BEECH/BANGKOK

Protests against Thailand's ruling junta spilled onto Bangkok streets over the weekend, with an estimated 13,000 demonstrators calling for the resignation of the military leaders who masterminded a bloodless coup against Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra last September. The marches were the largest show of dissatisfaction to date against coup architect Gen. Sonthi Boonyaratglin and junta-appointed Prime Minister Surayud Chulanont. While the bulk of the protesters came from within Thaksin's followers, they also included a wide range of other interest groups, a worrisome sign for a government already under scrutiny from overseas investors and businessmen worried about the kingdom's stability. The fear is that the tensions between civilian protesters and the military government could explode in violence and even further damage Thailand's image and prosperity.

The political situation was exacerbated late last month when a tribunal hand-picked by the junta dissolved Thailand's largest political party — Thai Rak Thai (TRT), which had been founded by billionaire Thaksin — as punishment for committing electoral fraud. Although the ruling generals have promised to hold elections by the end of this year, removing the nation's most popular party from contention threw Thailand's democratic future further into question. Indeed, during the weekend marches, emotions overflowed and a few demonstrators clashed with police, even beating up an ex-Senator who had been critical of Thaksin. On Sunday, the junta blamed the TRT party leadership for the violence, urging the group's large and mostly rural electoral base to respect the ban on their party.

But the rallies spanned a far wider spectrum than just Thaksin acolytes. Democracy advocates have taken to the streets to decry the use of army tanks over ballot boxes. Anti-poverty campaigners who claim the junta has not adequately addressed the plight of Thailand's rural poor have raised their voices, as have employees of community-radio stations banned from the airwaves by the junta. Legal activists, including a veteran former judge, have condemned what they believe is deteriorating judicial freedom under the military leadership. And Buddhists, who are upset that their faith was not designated as the national religion in the draft of the post-coup constitution, have also rallied against the military government. "The anti-junta coalition has gathered critical mass," warns Thitinan Pongsudhirak, a political scientist at Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok. "This is a pent-up situation, and it's going to get worse."

Certainly, the anti-coup movement makes for peculiar bedfellows. One of the mobilizers of the weekend protest was Weng Tojirakan, a respected democracy activist who had been vociferous in his criticism of Thaksin before the military overthrow. "I do not support Mr. Thaksin, but the junta destroyed democracy," Weng says. "The junta is a monster and is evil, even more than Mr. Thaksin."

The interim government has also drawn criticism for failing to quickly prove corruption by the former P.M., even though his alleged graft was a major rationale the generals gave for staging their putsch. (On Monday evening, a junta-appointed investigative committee announced it had ordered the freezing of Thaksin's domestic bank accounts, estimated at more than $1 billion.) More generally, many Thais blame the coup leaders for a series of economic missteps that dented Thailand's international reputation, as well as for scrapping the previous constitution and presenting a new draft that drew little from public consultation.

The anti-junta coalition has vowed to continue holding protests until the coup leaders resign. On Monday, 5,000 Buddhists thronged in front of the Thai Parliament, some participating in a hunger strike to draw attention to their call for a state faith. It's unlikely, however, that this coterie of generals will bend to such wishes — or relinquish their own power so easily.

More possible, perhaps, is either a counter-coup against the interim government — hardly a confidence-booster for believers in Thai democracy — or heightened clashes between anti-junta protestors and army troops. In a worrisome precedent, similar pro-democracy marches back in 1992 ended with soldiers firing on unarmed protestors, killing dozens. "To be fair to the military, they have been disciplined and patient so far, but for how long?" asks political scientist Thitinan. "They are trained to respond by force. If it turns more violent, it will be bad for Thailand economically — and for how it is viewed by the world." With reporting by Robert Horn/Bangkok

from : www.time.com

Thailand's Trouble with Islamists

Friday, Jun. 08, 2007
By HANNAH BEECH

With its powder-soft beaches and golden-spired Buddhist temples, Thailand markets itself as a tourist haven. But the Southeast Asian nation has another side it would rather visitors not see: an Islamic insurgency in the country's far south that has claimed more than 2,100 lives since 2004. On May 31, a dozen paramilitary rangers were killed in an ambush. The following weekend, two civilians were shot dead, and 20 soccer players were injured by an on-field bomb.

Although Thailand is predominantly Buddhist, millions of Muslims live in the country's three southernmost provinces, which Thailand annexed a century ago. An insurgency has simmered for three years, with some militants calling for an independent homeland. Many Thai Muslims have long felt marginalized by the Buddhist majority, and the sense of alienation may get a lot worse. This spring, thousands of Buddhist monks took to Bangkok's streets clamoring for their beliefs to be designated in the constitution as Thailand's sole state religion. On June 4, charter writers rejected the call for an official faith, but growing pro-Buddhist (and, by extension, anti-Muslim) sentiment could doom the new constitution when it faces a referendum in August.

The mounting body count in the south dashes hopes that last September's military coup might ease the crisis, because junta leader General Sonthi Boonyaratglin is a Muslim. Since the putsch, violence has worsened. On June 4, insurgents were blamed for a train derailment that caused the entire railway network in the south to grind to a halt. With no end in sight to the conflict, Thailand's government will have to work even harder to keep the violence from distracting the tourist trade.

from : www.time.com

Thaksin Ups the Ante for Thailand's Generals

Thursday, Jun. 14, 2007
By HANNAH BEECH/BANGKOK


Enlarge Photo
SHOW OF FORCE: An anti-junta rally in Bangkok on June 11
Hoang Dinh Nam / AFP / Getty Images


Having dubbed itself the land of Smiles, Thailand tends to go out of its way to avoid confrontation. The capital's infamous traffic jams, for instance, rarely lead to the kind of road rage that strikes other cities. Yet this past week, the Southeast Asian kingdom showed the world a rather less peaceful visage. Protests against Thailand's ruling junta spilled onto Bangkok streets last weekend, with an estimated 13,000 demonstrators calling for the resignation of the generals who masterminded a bloodless coup against Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra last September. The marches, which sometimes erupted in clashes with the police, were the largest show of dissatisfaction to date against the military government led by the coup's architect, General Sonthi Boonyaratglin.

Thaksin, who has lived in exile since his ouster, quickly upped the confrontational ante. On June 11, a government-appointed investigative committee announced it had ordered the freezing of $1.6 billion in domestic bank deposits belonging to the former tycoon and his family, alleging corruption in several government projects overseen by Thaksin. The exiled leader, who has denied any wrongdoing, suggested the following day that he may return to Thailand to fight the charges—and perhaps re-enter politics. The prospective homecoming of Thaksin is likely to inflame tensions between civilian protestors and the military government, further damaging the country's international image and its hopes for stability. "[Thaksin's] return will raise the likelihood of violence," says Sunai Phasuk, the Thailand representative for New York-based Human Rights Watch. "We are heading for political upheaval."

Most of last weekend's demonstrators were from Thaksin's fan base, which draws largely from the rural poor. Many expressed anger at a tribunal, handpicked by the junta, which had dissolved Thaksin's Thai Rak Thai (TRT) party for committing electoral fraud in last year's polls. In their defense, the ruling generals have promised to hold elections by the end of this year, and they point out that their putsch was met with almost no public outcry. That's true: Thaksin's popularity had nosedived by the end of his tenure, in part because of his autocratic style, and street protests against him last year still dwarf the current rallies against the junta.

On Sunday, the junta blamed the TRT party leadership for the protests, later hinting that cash handouts had lured many poor citizens to the demonstrations. But the anti-junta rallies span a wider spectrum than just Thaksin's supporters. Democracy advocates took to the streets to decry the September coup. Anti-poverty campaigners who claim the junta has not adequately addressed the plight of Thailand's rural poor raised their voices, as did employees of community-radio stations banned from the airwaves by the interim government. Legal activists condemned what they believe is deteriorating judicial freedom under the military leadership. And Buddhists, who are upset their faith was not designated as the national religion in the draft of the postcoup constitution, also marched en masse. "The anti-junta coalition has gathered critical mass," says Thitinan Pongsudhirak, a political scientist at Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok. "This is a pent-up situation, and it's going to get worse."

The anti-junta coalition has vowed no letup in their dissent. On Monday, 5,000 Buddhists thronged in front of the Thai parliament, some participating in a hunger strike to draw attention to their call for a state faith. It's unlikely, however, that the generals will bend to such wishes—or relinquish their own power so easily. On Wednesday, General Sonthi struck a defiant note, predicting that Thaksin would not dare return to Thailand because he could be killed by one of the many groups of people who oppose him.

If Thaksin does return, the junta may have to redouble efforts to keep the peace between increasingly irate demonstrators and army troops. "To be fair to the military, they have been disciplined and patient so far, but for how long?" asks political scientist Thitinan. "They are trained to respond by force. If it turns more violent, it will be bad for Thailand economically—and for how it is viewed by the world."

with reporting by Robert Horn/Bangkok

from :www.time.com

Sunday, June 17, 2007

The Philosophy of Sufficiency Economy

Medhi Krongkaew


The economic crisis of 1997 affected everyone in Thailand, even His Majesty the King. Seeing many of his subjects suffering, he advised the Thai people to change their economic philosophy in order to cope with present economic adversity and withstand future economic insecurity. His Majesty’s words have become known as the Philosophy of Sufficiency Economy and have been used as the guiding principle in drafting the current 9th National Economic and Social Development Plan.


The philosophy can be summed up in one paragraph, as translated from the Thai:


“Sufficiency Economy is a philosophy that guides the livelihood and behavior of people at all levels, from the family to the community to the country, on matters concerning national development and administration. It calls for a ‘middle way’ to be observed, especially in pursuing economic development in keeping with the world of globalization. Sufficiency means moderation and reasonableness, including the need to build a reasonable immune system against shocks from the outside or from the inside. Intelligence, attentiveness, and extreme care should be used to ensure that all plans and every step of their implementation are based on knowledge. At the same time we must build up the spiritual foundation of all people in the nation, especially state officials, scholars, and business people at all levels, so they are conscious of moral integrity and honesty and they strive for the appropriate wisdom to live life with forbearance, diligence, self-awareness, intelligence, and attentiveness. In this way we can hope to maintain balance and be ready to cope with rapid physical, social, environmental, and cultural changes from the outside world.”


This philosophical statement has lent itself to interpretation by diverse groups of people. First, we can dismiss outright the extreme interpretation that the Sufficiency Economy means complete self-reliance or autarky. In an autarchic system, a country or unit thereof relies upon itself and its people to produce all its needs with no dependence on others. It may do this voluntarily (cutting off contacts with the outside world) or by necessity (because it is incapable of generating those contacts). But His Majesty the King explicitly rejected this interpretation: “This self-sufficiency does not mean that every family must grow food for themselves, to make clothes for themselves; that is too much. But in a village or sub-district there should be a reasonable amount of sufficiency. If they grow or produce something more than they need they can sell them. But they do not need to sell them very far; they can sell them in nearby places without having to pay high transport costs.”


Some people have attempted to link this economic philosophy with the so-called “Gandhian Economy.” Along the lines proposed by Mahatma Gandhi, this is an economy based on family-level or village-level small-scale enterprises and traditional methods. It may have been appropriate to India in the mid-twentieth century, when the people were poor and technology was limited. But in the present, it may be too restrictive to expect families to do everything by themselves using simple tools and machinery, such as traditional spinning wheels to make cloth. Perhaps the basic idea of Gandhian simplicity – a life less encumbered by modern needs and modern technology – could make people happier. But in the very open world of today, self-sufficiency a la Gandhi is too extreme.


We also hear people relating the Sufficiency Economy to the knowledge and applicability of Buddhism. In Buddhism, life, especially spiritual life, is enhanced by cutting out excessive wants and greed. True happiness may be attained when a person is fully satisfied with what he or she has and is at peace with the self. To strive to consume more leads to unhappiness if (or when) consumption is not satisfied or falls short of expectations. A sufficiency economy in this context would be an economy fundamentally conditioned by basic need, not greed, and restrained by a conscious effort to cut consumption. This is probably acceptable insofar as it does not reject gains in welfare and well-being due to greater consumption.


Looking back, it can be seen that His Majesty has talked about the sufficiency idea since 1974. In his customary birthday speech of that year, he wished everyone in Thailand “sufficient to live and to eat” (Por You Por Kin). This was indeed a precursor to the sufficiency economy. His Majesty also said: “The development of a country must be by steps. It must start with basic sufficiency in food and adequate living, using techniques and instruments which are economical but technically sound. When this foundation is secured, then higher economic status and progress can be established.” (See Apichai Puntasen, “The King’s Sufficiency Economy and Its Interpretation by Economists,” prepared for the 1999 Year-End Conference of the Thailand Development Research Institute (TDRI), Pattaya, 18-19 December 1999.)


This is very clear: it shows that His Majesty did not deny economic progress and globalization, as some people have interpreted. Indeed the word “globalization” (โลกาภิวัตน์ , lokapiwat) is used in the statement on Sufficiency Economy that His Majesty has endorsed. The notion that Sufficiency Economy is anti-globalization should be put to rest forever.


Still, there are attempts by various segments of the Thai population to dissociate this new economy from the realm of mainstream economics that stresses economic rationality and efficiency in resource allocation. It is obvious that His Majesty’s Sufficiency Economy is not the type found in a mainstream economics textbook, but it would be inaccurate to interpret it as the antithesis of mainstream economics in every respect. On the contrary, I think we can understand Sufficiency Economy within the framework of economic rationality and efficiency in allocative choices. The difference is not in type, but in degree or magnitude of economic behavior. His Majesty used the phrase “middle path” or “middle way” to describe the pattern of life every Thai should lead – a life dictated by moderation, reasonableness, and the ability to withstand shock. Can we find something in mainstream economics that captures the spirit of this philosophy?


I propose to use my own understanding of economic optimization. It is possible to see the Sufficiency Economy as consisting of two frameworks. One is the inevitability of facing the globalized world in which economic efficiency and competition are the rules of the game; the other is the need for economic security and the capacity to protect oneself from external shock and instability. Thinking within the first framework – the basic tenet of mainstream economics – we must realise the opportunity costs involved in every decision we make. We gain from specialization and division of labor because the opportunity costs of doing everything by ourselves is much higher. The laws of comparative advantage and gains from trade are at work in today’s world. But it would be foolish to pursue all-out specialization without basic security, especially in food, shelter, and clothing. This is where the framework of the new Sufficiency Economy comes in. This concerns the basic capacity of the people of a country to look after themselves. The optimization principle applies when we seek to answer the question: How much of our time and energy should be devoted to the first and second frameworks, respectively? In other words, how much resources should be allocated to producing for trade based on comparative advantage principle, and how much for basic security? The best mix between the two allocations would represent the optimal state of affairs, both in mainstream and Sufficiency Economics.


The author is professor of economics at the School of Development Economics, National Institute of Development Administration (NIDA).

from :Kyoto Review

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Thailand

Thailand


Thank you very much, Acharn Giles. The title of my talk, “A Country is a Company, a PM is a CEO,” is based on a statement Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra made in November 1977 when he declared: “A company is a country. A country is a company. They’re the same. The management is the same.”


Thaksin’s election victory in January 2001 should be seen not just as the “rise of Thaksin,” but as the triumph of big business in Thai politics. Thaksin is not the only big businessman in or well connected to the Cabinet. Ukrist Pathmanand, others, and I elsewhere have described the circles of interest around this government, so I don’t need to go into detail. It’s enough to note that the Cabinet and the core of the Thai Rak Thai Party contain a significant selection of the big business families which managed to survive the crisis in reasonable shape.


Big business has captured the state. That in itself is interesting, and I will talk a little about how this came about. But what big business wants to do with the state is more interesting, and I’ll spend rather more time on that.


First, then, how did this capture of the state come about? To begin with, we have to understand that this is not totally new. In the era of military dictatorship, big business was very well connected politically. As parliamentary democracy developed, several big businessmen played a prominent role in the early stages, and later moved more into the background.


For most of the past two decades, they have not seen much need to take a direct political role. I think this was for two reasons. First, before 1997 globalization seemed to be a great thing. Big business profited more than any other social or economic segment by getting access to technology, ideas, education, markets, finance. Big business did not need the state to manage globalization. Second, the state did a pretty good job of looking after business’s interests inside the country without the need for direct management. It built infrastructure, controlled labor, kept the macro economy stable, and did not interfere much with big business itself.


All that changed over the 1990s, and especially in the 1997 crisis, in three main ways. First, the existing political system showed itself catastrophically incapable of protecting big business interests – in fact the government sleepwalked into a crisis which wrecked many of the largest companies. Second, globalization ceased to be a friend but became a threat – in the shape of the IMF and predatory transnational capital. And third, society became more demanding. The 1990s was a decade of protest, new political organizations, and arguments for structural change. (I will come back to this issue below).


These three changes provided the motivation for big business to take a larger political role. Two other things made this much easier. First, parts of the 1997 constitution had an urban, centrist bias which provided the openings for big business. Second, the widespread social havoc of the crisis created an equally widespread demand for political change which could be exploited by electoral promises and party imagery.


Now let me move to the second part, how big business wants to use the state. I divide this into two areas, which are broadly economic and sociopolitical respectively.


First, economic. This government wants to shift towards a form of the “developmentalist” state found in other parts of Asia over the past generation. By “developmentalist” I mean that the state takes a more active part in protecting and promoting domestic capital in order to achieve catch-up economic growth.


This is not a new ambition on the part of Thai domestic capital. Back in 1980, the banker and finance minister Boonchu Rojanasatian campaigned for “Thailand Inc.” and said: “We should run the country like a business firm.” That effort was blocked by the generals, who worried that capitalism rampant would stimulate communism rampant too.


Thaksin has echoed Boonchu almost exactly, talking of “Thailand Company Limited” and saying, “A country is a company. A company is a country. They’re the same.”

Economic growth is the Thaksin government’s primary focus. At first, it was simply recovery from the crisis. Once this was on the way, the goal became attaining OECD status and transiting into the first world. This is the primary goal that shapes all of the secondary ones.


For earlier developmentalist states (Japan, Korea, Taiwan), the aim was to force-feed domestic capitalism through three main kinds of policies: directed credit; industrial policy, meaning packages of protective and promotional measures for selected sectors or firms; and control of labor.


Thailand’s new developmentalism differs in some important ways because of the change in era and the special character of Thailand’s economy. Most importantly, Thailand has pursued trade liberalization and later financial liberalization for many years, so the economy is highly open and externally oriented. Changing this orientation would be highly costly. Since the boom and bust, most major industry – and especially export industry – is under transnational firms. The Thaksin government’s policy is not to withdraw from this transnational dominance. It accepts that this is the age of transnational production networks. Rather the government tries to promote Thailand as a site for export location, tourism, and investment, and at the same time to upgrade Thailand’s position within transnational production chains.


In parallel, the government wants to promote and protect domestic capital in sectors oriented to domestic consumption, especially service industries. These sectors are somewhat protected from foreign competition, not by trade protection but by other legal barriers, such as the ban on foreign ownership of land and restrictions on foreign investment in media, telecommunications, and certain kinds of services on the grounds of special or security reasons. These sectors are also the ones in which most of the family businesses connected to the government are involved.


The government has moved towards what used to be called “industrial policy,” though here it is formulated in terms of business school economics and labeled “enhancing competitiveness” and promotion of small and medium enterprises (SMEs). Five strategic industries have been openly identified for promotion, including: fashion; agriprocessing; automobiles; ICT, especially graphics; and services, including tourism, restaurants, medicine, and logistics. Others are clearly being promoted in parallel through cronyist ties. Note that the majority of strategic industries are in services or service-related.


The government is also involved in channeling credit on a scale never previously seen in Thailand. The 1997 crisis pole-axed the commercial banks and finance companies. Those that survived are still reluctant to lend. At the same time, the crisis transferred many banking assets to government control. The government’s Krung Thai Bank was transformed from a sleepy dinosaur into the country’s largest lender. In addition, the government has mobilized other semi-dormant state banks and state specialized financial institutions (e.g., Government Saving Bank, EXIM Bank, SME Bank), expanded their roles, and urged them to lend. It has also experimented with ways to steal dormant deposits away from the remaining commercial banks; launched schemes of subsidized credit (for real estate and SMEs); begun using the stock market to corporatize and refinance state enterprises; and set up a state Asset Management Corporation which is able to restore the creditworthiness of formally bankrupt companies. The government has become the major factor in the allocation of credit.


The government is also stimulating consumption in order to create the market for domestically-oriented enterprise. This began with Keynesian stimulus under the previous government. Thaksin expanded this by encouraging a large increase in consumer debt.


Finally, the Thaksin government is intent on broadening and deepening the extent of the domestic capitalist economy. The thinking is simple: many people still live in a semi-subsistence economy. Incorporating them more firmly into capitalism will increase growth (as well as reduce poverty). The Thaksin government’s so-called “populist” schemes are easily misunderstood as similar to Latin American welfare populism. With the exception of the cheap health scheme, this is not the case. The Thaksin schemes are mostly about stimulating entrepreneurship by increasing the access to capital. Thaksin has said: “Capitalism needs capital, without which there is no capitalism. We need to push capital into the rural areas.” Thaksin’s adviser, Pansak Vinyaratn, claimed: “For the first time in the history of Thailand, we have moved capital closer to the people.” The same logic is being applied to some parts of the illegal or underground economy. The government wants to legalize them and bring them within the scope of the legitimate economy.


Now let me come to the socio-political part. Here my argument in summary is as follows. While big business has seized the state to manage external threats, it has also seized it to manage internal threats. This second mission is just as important, and much less understood.


After the end of the Cold War and the collapse of Thailand’s military rule, there was a big expansion of political space – protests, civil society, NGOs, public intellectuals, people politics, new organizations, etc. More people were looking for new ways to challenge the distribution of power and wealth. This upsurge threatens the interests of big business in many ways. Most directly, it threatens its ability to command the use of natural resources for land development, power generation, waste disposal, and many other things. By the end of the 1990s, almost every large-scale project was challenged and blocked by protest.


More subtly, this new civil society embraced ideologies which aim to severely reduce the power of the central state. These ideologies arose in reaction to the centralized, top-down, dictatorial state of the era of military rule, which was willed almost intact to the new parliamentary politicians. These protest ideologies range from classic liberalism, which simply wants to qualify state power through greater transparency, rule of law, checks and balances, etc., through to more anarchistic ideas such as the community culture movement, which wants to disassemble the central state and return power to local communities. These liberal and anarchistic strains were logically opposed to one another, but in many of the campaigns of the 1990s they could cooperate in opposition to the central leviathan. Moreover, these agendas started to have real influence within the state. Some of the key policy documents of the late 1990s were written from this perspective, namely, many parts of the 1997 constitution, the eighth development plan, the decentralization law, education reform proposals, and so on.


Just when big business wanted to seize the state and use it to force-feed capitalism, civil society movements wanted to disassemble or restructure the state to be more responsive to other interests. And these agendas began to have influence over the state.


Moreover, the protest movements disrupting the big projects were intertwined with the ideological campaigns against the strong state. The ideologues rode on the backs of the protesters to press their agenda; the protesters contracted the ideologues to articulate their demands in a wider political context. Moreover, this axis began to benefit from globalization, whose benefits had earlier seemed to fall mostly to big business and the middle class. Similar protest movements and ideological currents began to link together on a transnational scale, leading to such events as the World Social Forum and the siege of Seattle.


Since 2001, the Thaksin government has closed down much of the political space opened up over the prior quarter-century. This has been dramatic. The government has pursued five main approaches.


First, the government has tried in part to quell protest through a new “social contract” offering some more welfare, village funds, and various “care” schemes. Second, where this approach is ineffective, the government reverts to repression. The Pak Mun dam issue nicely fits this pattern. Thaksin himself went directly to the protesters and offered them money. When they refused, he settled the issue summarily without even completing the government-financed research and had the protest camps forcibly dismantled. To aid in countering protests, the government has added several repressive laws and has partially rehabilitated the military to serve as an ally and resource. It has aggressively targeted the NGO movement.


Third, the government has tamed the media through a mixture of law, regulation, intimidation, and money. The media is possibly tamer now than at any time in Thailand’s modern history, except the immediate aftermath of the 1976 massacre.


Fourth, the government has launched campaigns of social discipline. Some of these are peripheral – little more than state aid for panicked middle-class parents who cannot control their children and particularly their children’s sex lives. But behind these campaigns is an idea of the state’s duty and ability to discipline what Habermas would call the life-world. This is summed up in the phrase “social order,” which in its Thai version, rabiap sangkhom, has a much greater tone of conformity and orderliness than the English. For example, the Ministry of Culture has been running a TV ad for several months about a bad youth who would not bend his back in the traditional stoop of deference. The “final war on drugs” in 2003 had many objectives, but one of its outcomes was to intimidate all forms of social deviance.


Fifth, the government is promoting nationalism. This is not the political nationalism of the colonial and cold-war eras, but an economic nationalism. The thinking is explained in Liah Greenfeld’s book, The Spirit of Capitalism, which Thaksin and his advisors have publicly quoted on several occasions. The main message of the book is that societies which put priority on achieving economic growth to make their nation great can achieve growth very rapidly. Greenfeld wrote: “Where nationalism embraces economic competitiveness, the ‘take-off into sustained growth’ can be expected to take place within a generation…. Nationalism was like the magic wand that changed Cinderella’s pumpkin and mice into a gilded coach-and-four.” Greenfeld’s second message is that societies which start on this path but get distracted by other goals such as democracy or rights or the quality of life or equity are likely to fall by the wayside.


At the end of last year, Thaksin said: “Democracy is a good and beautiful thing, but it’s not the ultimate goal as far as administering the country is concerned…. Democracy is just a tool, not our goal. The goal is to give people a good lifestyle, happiness, and national progress.”


In sum, I see Thaksin as the leader of a big business project to seize the state in order to protect big business against both external and internal threats, and in order to achieve a “great leap forward” into advanced capitalism. Thaksin and his allies want to manage the economy more actively by using state tools to mobilize resources and deepen capitalism. They want to manage the society to suppress alternative agendas which might obstruct this great leap forward, particularly agendas which prioritize rights, democracy, or equity above growth. Thailand is obviously adopting a form of developmentalism along the line of the Asian NICs in the 1970s, but with differences because of the way the world has changed over recent decades.


When a country becomes a company, and government becomes management, then people are not so much citizens with rights, liberties, and aspirations, but rather consumers and factors of production. Thank you.


Giles Ji Ungpakorn: Thank you very much, Prof. Pasuk. Our next speaker is Associate Professor Paul Hutchcroft, who is currently based in the University of Wisconsin in the United States, where he specializes on comparative politics on Southeast Asia, especially the Philippines.


from :Kyoto Review

Crimes Committed by the State: Transition in Crisis

Crimes Committed by the State: Transition in Crisis
Atchayagam Rat Wigrit Garnpienpaeng
Ji Giles Ungpakorn, Suthachai Yimprasert et al.
Bangkok / The 6th October 1976 Investigating Committee / 2001

The Women of 6th October: Sifting Out the Truth by Opening Old Wounds
Grid Plae Glad Nong Grong Khwamjing Doi Phuying Hok Tula
Chonthira Sattyawattana
Bangkok / The 6th October 1976 Investigating Committee / 2001



by Viengrat Nethipo
I found myself seated somewhere on the campus of Chulalongkorn University working on a manuscript of this review. It was the day of the 58th Annual Traditional Football Match between Chulalongkorn and Thammasat universities. The two royally composed university songs, CU’s “Mahachulalongkorn” and TU’s “Yoong Tong,” could be heard echoing across the campus from the National Stadium. For students today, it is activities like the football match that define university life.


In other words, this review of books dealing with the political events of 6th October 1976 is being written and will be read in a context very different from the one which held then, one in which there is very little public awareness of the politics of more than a quarter century ago. Today, only Thai students with an interest in Thai history have any knowledge of what took place on this date. Unlike in Chile, where former leader Pinochet was recently on trial for using force against innocent people during more or less the same period, in Thai society today, there is little interest in bringing to justice the culprits behind the violence of October 1976.


However, to researchers of Thai politics and society, these are important books. These two publications attracted the attention of a large number of participants at the International Symposium on Thai Studies in Nakorn Phanom Province in early January. This article centers on the question of whether these books, given the current political climate, or lack thereof, succeed in proving that the State was responsible for what took place 25 years ago—as suggested by the title of the first book—or whether it is possible only to “sift out the truth”—as the title of the second book implies.


The events of 6th October took place during the heat of political battles between the left and right wings. They culminated in the cruel suppression of the students gathering at Thammasat by police and a right-wing mob. A large number of innocent people were killed or suffered emotional trauma. A coup d’état followed forcing many Thai students to go into hiding or join the Communist Party of Thailand, which had strongholds in remote areas of the country. Thailand was effectively in a state of civil war, with the Communist Party and government forces battling for approximately four years.


The publisher of these books is The 6th October 1976 Investigating Committee, which was set up in July 2000 to gather information about a missing chapter from recent Thai history by compiling verbal accounts from volunteer eyewitnesses. Sitting as the chairperson was Professor (Emeritus) of Rangsit University Dr. Chontara Satayawattana (the author of the second book under review), and holding the secretarial position was Assistant Professor Ji Giles Ungpakorn (co-author of the first book) of Chulalongkorn University’s Faculty of Political Science.


Atchayagam Rat Wigrit Garnpienpaeng (Crimes committed by the state) has three main objectives. In the first part, Ji Ungpakorn attempts to compile all available written accounts of the 6th October events. These are mostly explanations of “the truth” as seen through the eyes of the student leaders involved. Without imposing his own conclusions, the author simply presents these diverse viewpoints as starting points for discussion of the key issues raised in the last two sections of the book.


The next section consists of an in-depth examination of historical forces that led to the events. The study was done by Dr. Suthachai Yimprasert, a historian from Chulalongkorn University’s Faculty of Arts and a former student activist. Even though he wasn’t at Thammasat that morning, his alleged involvement in student politics prompted him to flee. Suthachai’s thorough and multi-faceted study presents several factors that led to the bloodshed, in which at least thirty-nine people were killed and 145 others injured. He concludes that the crackdown on the students and the subsequent coup d’état had been planned in advance by the government, which justified its actions by accusing the students of staging a play that bordered on lèse-majesté. Suthachai urges Thai society to accept the truth that the student victims were in fact “heroes” who aspired to create a better society. Suthachai has successfully enriched this historical chapter with as many details as possible, making it a reliable source for future reference.


In the final section, Ji Ungpakorn, one of the most interesting writers on the 6th October events, rules that what happened was a crime committed by the State. His approach is different from that of others who have written on the same subject. First of all, he was by no means a student leader. Nor was he involved in the student movement. In fact, he only returned from England, where he spent most of his life, five years ago. The reason why he proclaims himself “an October person” (the term used to refer to students and other educated people who were directly involved in the 14 October 1973 and 6 October 1976 events) is because he is the son of Puay Ungpakorn, the Thammasat University president who, as a result of the events of 6th October, was forced to flee the country and eventually died in exile.


Ji Ungpakorn is therefore an academic and social activist whose background was not directly shaped by political situations in Thailand. Nor has he been so deeply scarred by the events that he is unable to make an objective analysis. All this, in fact, works to his advantage. He deliberates on the events like a true judge whose impartiality is not clouded by any illusions, as when he professes himself to be a Marxist despite others’ disillusionment with the Communist Party of Thailand.


Thus, Ji’s deliberation on the 6th October case must be regarded as having been done from a distance by someone removed from the actual events. Ji builds his case carefully before reaching the conclusion that the events were a crime committed by the State. He cites counter-evidence and counter-arguments like a professional trial lawyer. He counters all four accusations made by the State to justify the crackdown on the students and people on 6th October: first, that the students had staged a play that bordered on lèse-majesté; second, that by stockpiling weapons at Thammasat the students were guilty of treason; third, that the clashes between the so-called “patriots” and the students had gotten out of control, forcing police to break into Thammasat; fourth, that the students, by spreading communist ideology, were a threat to national security.


Ji dismisses each of the accusations using factual evidence and arguments. His judgment that the students’ gathering was a legitimate act is made without regard to the students’ deeds or to their ideology at the time or to any of the philosophical or factual disputes presented in the first part of the book. In this section, Ji assumes the role of a prosecutor and a jury who convicts the state of committing a crime and calls for the judge to bring the culprits to justice. He proposes that a truth commission be set up as has been done in many other countries.


Grid Plae Glad Nong Grong Khwamjing Doi Phuying Hok Tula (The women of 6th October: Sifting out the truth by opening old wounds) is a compilation of testimony given verbatim by women eyewitnesses. The writer, Chontira Satayawattana, is a former student activist who spent seven years in hiding. She was pregnant when she was charged with involvement in communist activities and sent to prison, where she subsequently gave birth to a daughter.


The book lives up to its title. The writer successfully sifts out the truth through verbal accounts and memories recounted by the female eyewitnesses. An unprecedented feat, the book not only allows volunteer witnesses to vent their painful feelings and memories but also presents newly discovered information. For example, according to a former intelligence student activist, a radio police message intercepted just before the events took place confirms that police reinforcement had been ordered prior to that morning. This evidence leads to the conclusion that the decision to enter Thammasat on the morning of 6th October was not a case of a situation getting out of control, but was actually an action planned in advance.


Every paragraph written by Suthachai and Chontira is replete with the names of individuals and institutions that are still highly influential even today. This is an important reason why we cannot hope to see Ji’s verdict taken seriously or a truth commission set up any time soon. As an outsider, Ji may be perceived as naïve. And the day remains out of reach when his demand for justice is met and his hope to be a torchbearer for truth and a force for change is realized.


At least Ji Ungpakorn is successful in presenting facts to those wanting to know the truth, but his call for justice is likely to be drowned out by the two royally composed songs echoing across the campus today.




The author is an assistant professor of political science at Chulalongkorn University. This review was translated by Somjit Jirananthiporn and Michael Crabtree, Chalermprakiet Center of Translation and Interpretation, Faculty of Arts, Chulalongkorn University.

from :Kyoto Review

Hinggil sa Pulitika ng Pangangalagang Pangkalikasan sa Thailand

Pinkaew Laungaramsri


Ayon sa papel na ito, ang “kunserbasyong pangkalikasan” sa Thailand ay produkto ng interbensyon ng pamahalaan sa mga natural na tanawin at ang pagtingin na ang mga kagubatan ay may pangunahing kahalagahan sa modernisasyon ng bansa. Ang pagyakap sa wilderness thinking ng Hilagang Amerika ng nagmomodernisang estadong Thai ay nagbunga ng pagkalito sa pagitan ng “kunserbasyong pangkalikasan” at “pang-ekonomyang pag-unlad.” Bagamat tinitignan bilang kasukalang malaya sa panghihimasok ng tao, ang mga protected area ay integral sa kapitalisasyon ng likas na kayamanan sa loob ng development paradigm.



Nagsimula ang paglaho ng sinaunang konsepto ng pa (gubat) bilang isang misteryoso at masukal na pook sa paligid at naiiba sa sibilisadong mundo ng muang (lungsod) sa pagdating mula sa Burma noong ika-19 na dantaon ng mga kumpanyang Ingles na nagtotroso. Ito ay pinalitan ng terminong pa mai (gubat-kahoy); ang “kalikasan” ay naging “likas na kayamanan” na mayroong utilitaryanong pagtutuon sa komersyal na halaga. Binago ng agham-pangkagubatan, na sinimulan ng mga dayuhang eksperto, ang magulo at masukal na kagubatan at ginawa itong isang pinag-isipang pagkakaayos ng mga puno. Binigyang-daan din nito ang pagpapaunlad ng estadong Thai, partikular ang Royal Forestry Department, ng mga bagong teknolohiya ng kontrol tulad ng pangangasiwa ng estado sa pagtotroso ng teak, mono-species management, at sentralisasyon sa pamamagitan ng paglalatag ng sistema ng perokaril.


Katulad ng paghuhubog ng pagtotroso noong panahong kolonyal sa komersyal na pagtingin sa kalikasang Thai, lumitaw naman ang mga internasyunal na institusyong post-kolonyal para ilapat sa mga bansang atrasado ang development model at national parks model mula sa mga bansang industriyalisado. Laging bukas sa pangangailangan ng pribadong industriya at turismo, ang mga parke ay naging mga pambansang sagisag rin ng moderno at sibilisadong estadong Thai. Itinataguyod at pinapangalagaan ng mga opisyal ng gobyerno, forestry technocrat at mga grupong pang-konserbasyon ang mga national park at wildlife sanctuaries para sa mga pangangailangang pang-estestiko, pang-edukasyon at pang-libangan ng mga taga-lungsod at edukadong panggitnang uri.


Ang prerekisto ng pormal na edukasyon upang sapat na mapahalagahan ang kalikasan ay ginamit upang di-maisali ang mga lokal na maninirahan at mga tribo sa kabundukan sa pangangasiwa sa mga pambansang parke at upang pahinain ang nauna at matagal nang ugnayan sa pagitan ng lokal na kabuhayan at ng kagubatan. Sa ngalan ng unspoiled nature, sila ay itinaboy mula sa mga protektadong lugar patungo sa mga nakapaligid na kagubatan kung saan wala silang karapatang pampamayanan. Ang mga lugar na ito ay bukas sa pampamahalaan at pribadong interes samantalang ang mga naninirahan ay itinuturing na mapanganib na “banta” sa natural na kagubatan, mga tagapagwasak ng bansa mismo. (Salin ni Sofia G. Guillermo)

from :Kyoto Review

The Pondok and the Madrasah in Patani

Hasan Madmarn
Bangi / Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia Press / 1999



by Naimah Talib
The study of traditional Islamic institutions in Southern Thailand has not received much systematic and scholarly attention. Institutions such as the pondok (private Islamic boarding schools) are historically important to the Malay-Muslim community in Thailand. They perform a key role in providing religious instruction and also in deepening the community’s understanding of Islam. Moreover, they are closely associated with Malay-Muslim identity and often act as a pivot for Malay social life. Hasan Madmarn’s study of the pondok and madrasah in Patani is a valuable contribution to the literature on traditional Islamic institutions. In particular, he offers fascinating insight into the workings of the traditional pondok and its influential role in Patani society.


From about 1782, the Siamese monarchy began gradually to extend its influence over the Kingdom of Patani. Patani was then divided into seven administrative areas, each under the control of a Siamese-appointed chief. In the 1890s, King Chulalongkorn’s reforms creating a centralized administration undermined the power and influence of the Muslim rulers further, leading by the early twentieth century to direct control by the Siamese authority. However, Siamese officials spoke little if any Malay and governed from the towns, while the Malays generally stayed in the countryside and found security and sanctuary in their religion and culture. Today, Malay-Muslims form the majority in the four southern Thai provinces of Pattani, Narathiwat, Satun, and Yala, but make up a small minority in the country as a whole.


In the 1930s and 1940s, attempts by the Phibun government to assimilate ethnic minorities into national life had a direct impact on the Muslim community in the South. Malay-Muslims protested at the assimilation measures and there emerged growing dissatisfaction, especially among the young. This resulted in a determined attempt to revive Malay identity and raise the level of Islamic consciousness. Religious institutions such as the pondok were used to disseminate ideas of Pan-Malay nationalism and Islamic revivalism.


Hasan Madmarn’s monograph highlights some of these issues. He draws attention to the historical importance of Greater Patani as a center of Islamic learning and to the various responses of the pondok to government policies intended to modernize them. He also discusses the adjustments made by providers of religious education in Pattani province in the last few decades.


Hasan begins his study with the role of Patani as an independent Malay-Muslim kingdom in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The Patani religious scholars, the ulama, offered Islamic classical education to keen students through the pondok, providing both basic and advanced courses in Malay and Arabic. Hasan gives a detailed and excellent evaluation of Patani’s religious scholars in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, highlighting their contribution to the writing of important religious commentaries and to translation from Arabic into Malay, written in the Jawi script. Many of the ulama, such as Shaykh Dawud al-Fatani and Shaykh Ahmad al-Fatani, distinguished themselves in the religious centers of the Middle East in the nineteenth century and were connected to networks of religious scholars within the Malay and wider Muslim world. The Holy Mosque at Mecca (Masjid al-Haram) became a much sought-after destination for graduates of the Patani pondok. Hasan also stresses the importance of the Malay language in religious instruction, maintaining that much of the literature used for religious instruction was in Malay, the students’ own language.


In his study of the pondok, Hasan examines the role of Chana, a town in Songkhla province, from the 1930s to the 1950s. Chana had four major and highly regarded pondok whose reputation enabled them to attract students from all over Thailand and British Malaya. The ulama of these pondok belonged to the Kaum Tua, or traditional school, which favored “all that was traditional, unchanging and secure” (p.18). The traditional pondok system of learning is narrowly based and “medieval” at best (p.21). There is no system of assessment and students learn by rote and by taking down commentaries and explanations given by their religious teachers. As in other parts of the peninsula, the Kaum Tua came into conflict with the proponents of modernist reform, called the Kaum Muda. Hasan mentions Tok Guru Ghani, a leading member of the Kaum Muda group, who introduced the modern madrasah into the traditional system of religious instruction represented by the pondok.


In contrast to the pondok’s exclusive focus on religion, the madrasah curriculum is broadly based, emphasizes knowledge application, and has a relatively vigorous system of assessment. The madrasah is often modeled on similar schools found in the Middle East. Here it would have been useful for Hasan to discuss the relative popularity of madrasah and pondok schools before the 1960s, but he does not provide information on enrolment for these two types of institutions. More attention is given to the ulama of Patani, the mainstay of the pondok system, than to the proponents of the madrasah system.


Neither does he cover in much detail the impact of Thai government policies to upgrade and introduce secular subjects into the pondok schools in the early 1960s. This program entailed the registration of all pondok with the Ministry of Education and was aimed at transforming them into private schools subject to government regulation. This inevitably resulted in a new conception of the pondok as an educational rather than a religious institution. By 1971, 400 pondok had been registered and have survived as “private schools.” Hasan mentions the concern of religious teachers when Islam came “under government control” (p.74), but offers little evidence of resistance against the registration policy that made it compulsory for the pondok to use Thai as one of the languages of instruction.


The fears of religious teachers were confirmed by the 1987 policy extending compulsory education from six to nine years. Religious teachers at this time publicly opposed the policy because it would limit the time Muslim children could spend in religious schools. Another response to government reform was the attempt to transform pondok into madrasah. This would allow religious teachers to modernize their curriculum and include the objectives of the Thai educational system while preserving the tradition of Islamic learning associated with the pondok.


The Thai government, meanwhile, provided incentives to Muslim children to remain in public education by encouraging the teaching of Islam in elementary schools, a move that was received positively. (There was also an attempt to upgrade the standard of teaching and the curriculum of Islamic private schools, the post-registration pondok schools.) In time, Islamic subjects were introduced at the secondary level of public schools, and eventually, the Education Ministry established the College of Islamic Studies at the Prince of Songkhla University. This allowed students to pursue Islamic studies in Thailand at the tertiary level for the first time.


While Hasan has done a commendable study on the institution of the pondok, giving adequate attention to the curriculum and the learning process, and highlighting the contributions of religious scholars, he has not addressed the role of religious institutions within the broader context of political change in the Southern provinces. For example, there is no discussion of allegations that the separatist movement in Southern Thailand has used pondok as recruitment centers. Without exaggerating the importance of separatist demands, it may be worthwhile to underline the terms by which the Muslim community has tried to negotiate its integration into mainstream Thai political and social life. Education continues to serve as an important key to integration and development, as most pondok have been transformed into private Islamic schools under the government’s jurisdiction.


The competition for students between traditional, private Islamic schools and government-run public secular schools that include Islamic subject matter is also a pertinent issue not carefully examined here. At question is whether the pondok can adapt to conform to the Thai national educational curriculum and continue to exist alongside secular schools. Certainly, the pondok is under increasing pressure to redefine its role in Thai Muslim society.


Naimah Talib teaches at University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand.

from :Kyoto Review

On the Horns of a Dilemma

Kasian Tejapira


Thai public intellectuals don’t seem to love and care for the people much these days. They facilely compare the Thais to chicken (I’m still puzzled why Thai people are compared to “chicken in the basket” instead of “chicken in the coop,” unless they have already had their throats cut and been plucked and boiled. But never mind. Basket is all right. Cock-a-doodle-do!) and sometimes to buffaloes (connoting stupidity and being led by the nose or even ridden by the Knight of the Third Wave—a well-known sobriquet of Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra.1 Uhhh…)
However, as a thinking Thai buffalo, I think Prof. Thirayuth Boonmee,2 in rashly comparing us to buffaloes, might have overlooked the “horns.” I mean a huge pair of “horns” that is throttling the throat of the nation and the Thais at present.

Let me start a discussion about Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra’s asset-hiding case, now being tried by the Constitutional Court, by challenging two major conceptions that have dominated public debate on this issue so far.

1) I disagree with the view that the case of Prime Minister Thaksin represents a conflict between the rule of law and realpolitik (the latter labeled by Prof. Thirayuth as the principle of “Sri Thanonchai [legendary Thai folk trickster] Science,” namely, the “Thai-Thai” way of cunningly talking one’s way out of any damning situation).

That’s too easy. I instead see this case as essentially reflecting a deep conflict, or the horns of a dilemma, between two key political concepts, Liberalism and Democracy, both of which are embodied in our current “political reform” Constitution.

2) I don’t agree that people should not “pressure” the Constitutional Court in the case of PM Thaksin.

I’d rather follow the opinion of Prof. Chaiwat Satha-anand3 that not only should people “pressure” the Constitutional Court, but they must also shake, criticize, submit petitions to, or even hold a demonstration to make the Constitutional Court aware of their opinions.

These can be done in so far as people’s opinions are expressed openly, diversely, and freely, and, most important of all, the independence of the Constitutional Court to perform its duties is not constrained. It will even help elevate the quality of public debate on the issue to a more sophisticated level (instead of just flying flags or paying group visits and presenting bouquets of flowers to the PM to show moral support).

This is what people should do if they consider the Constitutional Court their own independent organ and institution, something that belongs to the people, to be commonly held and cherished by them, rather than a monopoly of the mere dozen legal and political science experts who comprise that judicial body. Otherwise the Constitutional Court will turn into a legal-political technocratic institution above and beyond any intercourse with, or any dissenting or critical voice from, the people and hence devoid of any sense of belonging to them.

This is in accordance with the principle that “as one of their beloved possessions, the buffaloes gotta have the right to scold it!”

Isn’t it right that a Constitutional Court that isolates itself from the people and forbids any pressure from society would not be as desirable as one that is independent and yet receptive to public criticism, thereby making it possible for people to feel a sense of affection for and ownership of it?

Let me return to my first argument about the principles of Liberalism and Democracy.

The principle of Liberalism aims to limit state power. It does not permit those who hold state power to use it arbitrarily and absolutely, unconditionally and without limit for the interests of any particular person or group. The exercise of state authority must therefore be under the rule of law as well as under the control and oversight of the judiciary and other independent public bodies.

The principle of Democracy, on the other hand, aims to distribute state power to ordinary citizens so they can take part in the legislative and decision-making process concerning public issues, either directly or indirectly through their elected representatives, instead of assigning those issues to, or letting them be monopolized by, bureaucrats, traditional leaders, or technocrats.

The 1997 “political reform” Constitution embodies both these principles. Regarding the principle of Liberalism, the Constitution provides for the establishment of a number of independent public organs to check and control the conduct of politicians in office and the state bureaucracy, such as the Constitutional Court, the Election Commission (EC), and the National Counter Corruption Commission (NCCC).

As for the principle of Democracy, the Constitution lays down various provisions for popular participation in the exercise of state power, for example, community rights to local natural resources (Articles 46, 56), the right to gain access to public information (Article 58), the right to public hearings (Article 59), the right of ordinary citizens to initiate legislation through the House of Representatives (Articles 170, 335(4)) or to launch an impeachment against high political and bureaucratic office holders through the Senate with the backing of 50,000 signatures (Articles 304-305), local self-government (Article 282), a referendum to be held on the initiative of the Cabinet (Article 214), and so on.

Because the pre-existing state structure and political system have been conducive to the monopolization and centralization of power by politicians and the state bureaucracy, the Constitution attempts to redress the balance by giving tremendous authority to the new independent public institutions to check and balance the power of the former. Consequently, the past few years have witnessed the indictment and actual removal from office of several high-ranking politicians and bureaucrats, from a Director General, a Minister of the Interior, and a Senate Speaker, to maybe even the Prime Minister himself.

However, this newly created and untried power, coupled with an inclination to rigidly interpret the letter of the law, sticking fast to legal technicalities, has resulted in a marked tendency toward the use of excessive power on the part of some independent public institutions themselves. In fact, they may eclipse and suppress the political will of the people as expressed through majority rule and arguably become an autonomous and all-powerful legal-political technocracy in their own right. Hence the dissenting voices against the Election Commission’s short-circuited rulings, without due judicial process, disqualifying certain MP and Senate candidates for alleged cheating in the elections. This led to several rounds of repeated voting and a resultant furor among voters in many constituencies; violent protests even erupted in various places in the aftermath of the latest elections for the Senate and the House of Representatives. In another instance, a barrage of criticism has been directed at the National Counter Corruption Commission and the Constitutional Court for their alleged misinterpretation and misapplication of the constitutional provision for the public disclosure of assets and liabilities of individuals holding political office. There are suspicions as well that some independent public institutions have been used by rival political parties and individual politicians to seek revenge on one another.

On the other hand, the implementation of various Democracy-inspired provisions of the Constitution allowing for greater popular participation in the exercise of public power is still hampered and delayed by the absence of follow-up legislation, the unpreparedness of implementing mechanisms, and a lack of co-operation and facilitation by a state bureaucracy that is traditionally authoritarian and overcentralized in both structure and organizational culture. The resulting sluggish, inconsistent, and ineffective enforcement of these democratic provisions of the Constitution makes people feel rather powerless in the new political system, especially at the national level, as well as estranged from the independent public organs. At the very least, it is by no means clear to them how these new constitutional mechanisms of check and balance of power are important or relevant to their interests, and whether they have any real stake in them.

Others find themselves on the “horns” of this same dilemma. The overthrow and subsequent trial on charges of corruption of former President Estrada of the Philippines and the Indonesian parliament’s censure and possible impeachment of President Wahid on charges of corruption and inefficiency both reflect conflict between the principles of Democracy (the political will of the people as expressed by a majority vote) and Liberalism (the limitation, check, and balance of power of state rulers).

In Thailand, these principles are colliding head on in the asset-hiding case of Prime Minister Thaksin.

Any society, including Thailand, that is still experimenting with Liberal Democracy must learn gradually from its own mistakes and deviations until it finds its own proper balance between the principles of Liberalism and Democracy. However, these cases of conflict involve not only two abstract political science concepts, but have a basis in concrete social reality.

In the Philippines, the urban and rural poor sided with former President Estrada, despite his being a cheat, because he had at least pushed ahead with land reform, while the urban middle classes in general and the business class in particular strongly opposed him. In Indonesia, the largest Muslim organization among the rural population steadfastly supported President Wahid, whereas the urban middle classes, intellectuals, students, and businessmen were fed up to the back teeth with his inefficiency, inconsistency, flip-flopping, and inert inaction in the face of crisis.

In the Thai case, people’s organizations are impressed with PM Thaksin’s willingness to take on and pressure government agencies, giant state energy enterprises, and mafia groups in certain localities on their behalf. The poor are attracted by his social welfare policy and economic-stimulus spending schemes that extend benefits to the grass-roots level. Big Thai capitalist groups, debtor and creditor alike, are ecstatic with his measures to cushion their businesses with public money and credits against the effects of the long economic recession, shrinking export market, stagnant domestic consumer and stock markets, and capital outflows. NGOs and communitarian public intellectuals admire the position he has taken in some of his addresses questioning, challenging, and criticizing the mainstream economic development line and calling for a more independent, self-reliant alternative amidst economic globalization.

On the other hand, as Prof. Thirayuth himself has analysed, “some businessmen, members of the elite, bureaucrats, and state-enterprise executives, who dislike too fast a change and stand to lose if grass-roots people are to get a greater share of the budget, tend to support the Democrat Party.”

The most interesting group, however, are the middle classes, long the real partner in an ongoing public dialogue Prof. Thirayuth has conducted through his occasional mass-mediated personal press conferences. Yet they were noticeably skipped by Thirayuth in his latest press conference. Why? Where have they gone?

I think if we read between the lines, the middle classes have not gone anywhere but are actually the “buffaloes” Prof. Thirayuth tried to caution against practicing the principle of “Sri Thanonchai Science” and urged to increase their power of knowledge. The middle-class buffaloes turn out to be the main social group facing the “horns” of a dilemma and thus being confused, hesitant, and hypocritical.

On the one hand, they don’t want any big capitalist group to monopolize state power in order to unfairly and corruptly seek advantageous business deals for the benefit of themselves and their cronies (hence the black flags in support of the NCCC’s fair and equal investigation of state-power holders in accordance with the principle of Liberalism).

On the other hand, they are so anxious about economic fluctuations resulting from globalization that they pin all their hopes on the magic feats of the “Knight on the Black Buffalo” (hence the yellow flags and the campaign that has gathered four hundred thousand signatures so far to declare the sovereign will of the majority in accordance with the principle of Democracy).

Right at the center of the current “Thaksin Fever” lies a confused and hesitant herd of Thai middle-class buffaloes facing their own “horns.”



Kasian Tejapira is an assistant professor in political science at Thammasat University and a weekly columnist for Matichon Daily. This column appeared on 7 July 2001. It was translated by Mukhom Wongthes, a free-lance translator and researcher with the Five Area Studies Project, with editorial assistance from Kasian Tejapira.

Notes

1. Originally the title of a Thai best-seller on Thaksin’s life and career, the sobriquet alludes to Alvin Toffler’s book on the information technology revolution and to Thaksin’s successful telecoms business.

2. One of the two best-known leaders of the radical student movement of the 1970s, Thirayuth joined the communist insurgency along with thousands of students and intellectuals in the aftermath of the massacre of student protesters at Thammasat University and the military coup of 6 October 1976. In the early 1980s, serious conflicts over policy and strategy with the communist leadership led to his defection, together with that of the rank and file of the movement, to the government and the eventual collapse of the insurgency. After graduate studies in the Netherlands, he became a lecturer in sociology at Thammasat University and a highly influential public intellectual who, alone among Thai academics, can summon a throng of newspaper, radio, and TV reporters and hold a personal press conference almost at will.

3. A leading peace scholar in Thailand, Chaiwat is an associate professor in political science at Thammasat University.

from : Kyoto Review

Constraints on People's Participation in Forest Management in Thailand

Pearmsak Makarabhirom


Local communities have long managed and used forests for their own livelihood. Since the central government took over forest management from the people, however, local communities have suffered and forest management has failed for lack of community participation. It is the intention of this paper to analyze the constraints on people’s participation in managing the forest.


Before the late 1800s, the Thai state was actually a number of loosely aligned kingdoms. It was not until 1886 that the central authority in Bangkok declared the forest to belong to the state. Since this time there have been four major overlapping periods in Thai forestry. The period from 1886 to 1989 saw the granting of long-term forest concessions. Twenty years after the concessions started, the Economic Forest Plantation Program began (1906-1989). The Forest Village Project ran from 1975 to 1993, and since the 1980s there have been many attempts to recognize local capacities and redistribute land. Some examples are the Sor-tor-kor (Rights for Cultivation) Project (1982-1993), the Kor-jor-kor (Land Allocation for the Poor) Project (1990-1992), and the Four Sectors Cooperation Program (1987-1992 and in revised form, 1993), comprised of government, private sector, financial institutions, and farmers.


The results of these top-down forest management schemes can be seen nationwide. A number of studies have shown that villagers do not gain proper benefits from them and do not help them in restoring the forests. On the contrary, villagers are often used as cheap labor and go into debt as a result of their participation. Moreover, corruption among officials has marred many government-run projects (Techa-artig 1996). Thus, most have been terminated or have lost momentum because local people neither want nor will participate in them (RDI 1993; Apichai 1994; Sasaki 1999). Consequently, other problems have been exacerbated, such as land tenure, biodiversity loss, cultural degradation, water shortage, and large-scale forest fire.


There is ample documentation of the failure of state-led forest management, so why hasn’t there been a move to more people-centered management approaches? This paper argues that resistance to change comes from many sectors and that finding a solution is not just about linking local research to policy processes.


A quick assessment of the situation


A survey of different regions in Thailand clearly shows the failure of state-led programs. In the northern region, highland watershed forests have been cleared for large-scale monoculture cash crops such as maize (early 1970s), cabbage (early 1970s to date), ginger (late 1980s to date), and temperate fruit trees (early 1980s). There have been many drastic conflicts in this region as well, for example, around Doi In-thanon in Chiang Mai province and in Doi Luang in Chiangrai and Phayao provinces. Moreover, the proclamation of an area as a national park effectively makes “illegal” residents of people who had settled these areas years before the proclamation. The cases of the Karen and Lahu ethnic minorities in Pang Dang village, Chiang Mai province, and the Lisu in Pai district, Mae Hong Son province, are just some examples. With few attempts made to resolve these problems, conflicts between the government and local people have escalated to the point where members of ethnic minorities have been jailed for practicing subsistence cultivation (Northern Development Foundation 1998).


In the southern region, more than 5 million rai (1 rai = .66 ha) of forest land has been converted into orchards and rubber, coffee, and oil palm plantations. Mangrove forests covering 2.3 million rai in 1961 decreased to about 900,000 rai by 2000 due to forest concessions for charcoal and poles, brackish-tiger prawn farming, and urbanization. (Royal Forestry Department 2000). Current problems include the uncontrolled cutting of mangrove trees, the use of destructive pushing gear, and near-shore fishing by trawlers and push-nets which destroy fish, coral, seagrass, and the whole mangrove ecological system. Small-scale fisherfolk suffer because the government does not enforce laws or punish wealthy concession owners. As in other areas of natural resource management, the state has resisted calls for more participation (Yadfon Foundation 1999; Watana 1998; Rithipornpun 1994).


The northeast region has sustained the worst damage (Department of Environmental Quality Promotion 1998; Bunchon 1996; Premrudeelert et al. 1994). After twenty years of forest concessions (1968-1987), 87 percent of the total land area has been degraded. Traditional local forests and public lands have been destroyed for cash crop cultivation and Eucalyptus woodlots, particularly in mid-Northeast localities such as Nong Yor forest in Surin province and Dong Keng forest in Yasothorn province.


In the central region, rich forests have been destroyed by long-term timber concessions, followed by slipper concessions (a short pole hardwood used in railway construction); bamboo concessions for the pulp and paper industry, oil and resin harvesting concessions, the expansion of export crop cultivation, and large-scale eucalyptus plantations. Extensive plans for rehabilitation through forest village and forest plantation projects failed for lack of local participation (Apichai and Danai 1996; Sasaki 1999).


In the eastern region, forests covered more than 5 million rai in 1957. At present, since the government proclaimed ownership and management of the forests, less than 500,000 rai remain. The government has established many planning and management committees that include no representative from local communities. Therefore, local people do not cooperate (RECOFTC 1994).


Forested area of more than 3 million rai in the western region, inhabited by several local ethnic communities, was proclaimed a protected area and then a “world heritage” site. Again, the Royal Forest Department set up committees to plan and manage these protected areas, which it called the “Western Forest Complex,” without involvement by the local people (Alonglod 1993; Opas et al. 1998).


Clearly, then, a major reason state-led forest management in Thailand has failed is that forest managers and politicians have not recognized or allowed local participation in natural resource management. Over the long term, this has resulted in a host of inter-connected problems including enormous loss of forest, serious environmental degradation, and more frighteningly, a major decrease in the quality of life of rural people. State-led forest management has also created a split within civil society. Urban environmentalists and rural people have vastly different views about how forest resources should be managed, what management objectives should be, and how benefits should be shared (Anun 1998; Somsak 1998; Peamsak 1999a, b).


Constraints facing community forestry


The present constitution (1997) gives authority and responsibility to community and local organizations to manage natural resources. Item 46 establishes the rights of local communities; item 56 gives management rights to individuals; item 58 asserts individuals’ right to access to news and information; item 59 gives people the opportunity for free expression of ideas; and item 79 abolishes the former governmental role in controlling resources and the environment. Unfortunately no policies or laws have implemented these objectives and they are not reflected in national forest policy, which aims to achieve long-term sustainable management of forest resources in coordination with other natural resources (RFD 1985). The policy emphasizes the roles of government and the private sector and cooperation between the two, but little is said about people’s participation. This omission has led to an entrenchment of thinking and actual resistance to the participation of local people in forest management. This is due not only to the perceived authority of the state, but to the attitude, trust and commitment, and knowledge and skill of forest officials, and to the lack of incentives for local participation.


Wrong use of state authority: Government agencies see themselves as enforcers of laws rather than managers. A forest monk who has witnessed this firsthand identifies what is wrong with their approach: “We can manage forest resources but the first thing we have to do is manage people. Those who are hungry will become more so if they cannot have access and use forests to meet their needs.” He adds that the government uses nitisat (strict rules and regulations) to manage forests, but nitisat is for criminals. Instead, the government should use ratthasat (diplomacy) to build the structures and mechanisms needed to accommodate the different interests and needs placed on forests. Laws provide very little room for working out problems; rather they stress punishment. The laws that are invoked are the Civil and Commercial Code, Article 1304 (4) for public treasures; Land and Forest Acts for forest and land uses, measures in land-use planning, land consolidation for agriculture, stipulation of forest reserve and protected areas, watershed classification, etc.; Wildlife Protection Act 1960 for wildlife; Fishery Act of 1947 for fish resources; Mineral Act 1967; and Petroleum Act 1971 for all mineral resources, including petroleum.


Ironically, those who are most to blame (concession companies and wealthy, influential national and local businessmen) rarely have to worry about such things. After allowing the exploitation of local resources, government agencies usually leave an area without proper rehabilitation. When problems are pointed out, state officials often put the blame on local people (Office of Senator’s Secretariat 1994).


Overcoming this problem requires a balance of authority within government agencies and between the state and the people. Devolution of forest management rights and authority to local communities is strongly recommended. At the local level, community organization must be strengthened and promoted in forms such as the village board committee, community committee, sub-district council, and sub-district administration organization. The roles and responsibilities of all actors must be clarified and communities should be allowed to participate in decision making as well as investigate the operation of government officials (Center for Social Development Study 1996).


Centralized management decision-making: Forest Management plans are often decided by a few high-level officials on national-level committees such as the National Forest Policy Committee, the Wildlife Protection Committee, and the National Park Committee. The objectives and policy set by these committees do not correlate with the problems and needs of local communities. In fact, the political appointees on these committees often have little understanding of local realities.


This can be overcome through a decentralization process in which the authority of central departments is transferred to local organizations at various levels. It is also necessary for representatives of the people and NGOs to be appointed to national-level committees to balance members from the governmental sector.


Attitude toward rural people and perceptions of forest use: Some government officials have negative attitudes toward local people, particularly poor people who depend on forests. They often assume that these are the people most likely to destroy forests, because they see forest use as forest destruction and do not understand local forest management. Government programs usually tell communities what to do rather than try to understand how the forest is used and how that use can be improved to support the objectives and needs of both parties. This constraint can be lessened by having local officials attend social activities in the communities (RECOFTC 1994). This would allow government officials to understand local people’s perceptions and their relationship with the forest.


Trust and Commitment: There is very little trust among the major stakeholders in the debate over who should manage the forest and how it should be managed. Past experience clearly shows the failure of government-led forest management strategies, yet there is little commitment to change. On the contrary, the forest department has been quite strategic in trying to win over public opinion by creating more national parks and demonstrating effectiveness through high-profile arrests. However, strong forest protection and crime suppression measures create negative feelings among local people toward the officers.


The way out of this constraint is for the government to review related policies, programs, and commitments with the people. Long-term commitments and agreements should be encouraged at the local level so that new initiatives can be implemented in cooperation with local people and all stakeholders.


Knowledge and Skills: Governmental officials do not sufficiently understand new concepts, strategies, and participatory methods of forest management, agroforestry, and joint/collaborative forest management (Banerjee 1992; Fisher 1995; Gilmour and Blockhus 1993). They see community forestry and community-based natural resource management (Bartlett et al. 1992; DENR 1996) as a way to control local people, not as a means to support improved forest management. They also lack skills in facilitation, community organization, and the social sciences which would help them work effectively with communities. In short, forest officers are not properly trained.


Participatory learning processes which engage government officials and local people working together must be encouraged. It is necessary to train both parties to understand new concepts, participatory approaches, and techniques. Further, government representatives posted to the districts, such as District Forest Officers and Forest Protection Officers, must be given support, encouragement, and flexibility to perform their new roles in promoting people’s participation.


Incentives: There are currently very few incentives for people to participate in forest management. Most government “participatory projects,” devised with little local input, are more about meeting government targets and objectives than about obtaining actual local participation. Protected forest management is therefore very strict, and even subsistence activities are prohibited in protected areas. In the case of domestication of forest trees in farm areas, people are afraid that if their fields become forested, the government might take them over as “forest areas” and put them under central control. In the case of teak and dipterocarp tree promotion, farmers can plant trees but have to get permission to cut, process, and transport their own wood. Clearly, the government must make benefits, including moral support, flow to all participants in forest management.


Legal and Administrative Policy: At present, forestry laws and regulations are hostile to people’s participation, especially in government-proclaimed protected areas which prohibit all use. Though there are thousands of communities managing and protecting their local forests, their activites are deemed illegal. Further, current laws and regulations prioritize the private sector, while poor upcountry people are seen as enemies of the forest. At recent Senate hearings on the Community Forestry Bill, these contradictions were raised, but instead of amending the harsh laws, the “gospel” was upheld. Local reality and decades-old laws are still in conflict.


These seven issues are not new, but have been long discussed. Most governments have not taken them into serious consideration, however, especially during the ten years before the economic crisis. In fact, government departments concerned with forest management still enjoy large budgets and thus have no reason to consult with local people. They are accountable to no one.


Conclusions and Recommendations


Promoting people’s participation in forest management requires concerted efforts on the part of government, NGOs, academic institutions, and the people themselves. In the short term, the state should create incentives to allow local people to benefit from its programs. Enforcement should give way to cautious flexibility so that new concepts, participatory approaches, methods, and techniques can be encouraged.


In the long run, forestry reform will entail the revision of goals and improvement of policy, laws, regulations, and institutions in order to implement new policies. Fundamental linkages between livelihood security (living, cultivation, and community forests) and land tenure should be recognized by the state. Parallel institutions to deal with local conditions and community objectives should also be developed. For if local people cannot make their own plans and enter freely into agreements, why would they participate? An important first step would be to engage local participation in collecting and analyzing information that would lead to forest management options suitable to local needs, while fostering a collaborative spirit between local people, NGOs, and government staff (Mather 1998: Sripen 1996). In fact, participatory action research is a highly recommended practical tool to build researchers’ working experience with local communities that can lead to wider participation.


Community forestry as seen in other countries is not just forest management, but a means to wider change and empowerment at the local level. Community forest management provides basic needs, generates income, and strengthens local capacities to manage natural resources and the environment. It contributes to the development of human resources by raising awareness and fostering right attitudes, knowledge, and skills through participatory learning. Eventually it will help to balance decision-making between the central government and local communities.

­

Pearmsak Makarabhirom is Program Officer at the Community Forestry Country Support Program, Regional Community Forestry Training Center for Asia and the Pacific (RECOFTC), Kasetsart University, P.O. Box 1111, Bangkok 10903, Thailand.

Tel: 9405700 ext 1228; email: ftcpsm@nontri.ku.ac.th


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from :Kyoto Review