Or so it seems for General Sonthi Boonyaratglin, who is leading moves that could eventually help undo what he did in 2006. We cannot be certain he’s sorry for the military putsch because he has never actually said so, but can a man be transformed the way Sonthi has been without the slightest shred of remorse?
Maybe we are making “reconciliation” far more complicated than it really is. Giving Sonthi two hours on national television and asking him to speak his mind is perhaps the best, quickest and cheapest solution. He only needs to address two questions: Why the heck did he roll out tanks to topple Thaksin Shinawatra six years ago? Would he do it again today?
If the past six years has been a war, Sonthi arguably fired the first shot. And if the man who fired the first shot now wants peace, who are we to argue? All he has to do is tell us nicely whether he thinks that shot was justified or it opened up a slippery slope that sent us all to rock-bottom. So much for the “Let bygones be bygones” cliche that Sonthi invokes in virtually every interview. Either he wishes he had never done it, or he still believes he did the right thing. But we need to know.
Sonthi may claim he’s trapped somewhere in between. “I think I did the right thing but now I’m sorry for what I did” could be his graceful exit. Problem is, this kind of attitude is exactly what’s making reconciliation virtually impossible. Everybody’s convinced he’s right, but everybody’s proclaiming sadness for how tragically low Thailand has sunk, partly because of him doing the right thing. Nobody has unequivocally admitted that the country is in this dire state because he is wrong.
Have we ever heard Thaksin say his ex-wife’s purchase of the Ratchadapisek land was wrong? The closest we’ve got is him saying the transaction was probably unlawful but that was only because the law was unrealistic or abused. “He did nothing wrong,” Deputy Prime Minister Chalerm Yoobamrung has said again and again. “He only did what the law prohibited.”
Sonthi can apply this logic as well. “The coup was not wrong; it’s only against normal democratic principles,” he can say. The People’s Alliance for Democracy can then be adamant about doing what was morally right in flushing an elected administration out of Government House, occupying the property for months, and blocking Suvarnabhumi Airport for days. And so can the red shirts for camping in a business district and invading a hospital. Everyone has resorted to that famous tagline: Sometimes, to uphold justice, you have to break the law.
Thailand’s problem does not end there. When the law is on your side, wield it like a Bible and what is morally right or wrong does not matter. You can have nominees hold your stocks and gain massive tax benefits from transactions that confuse the life out of everybody. “Read the law. Does it say anywhere that I have to pay taxes?” You can say that in the face of anyone who dares to raise ethical questions.
So, what do we have here? Thaksin Shinawatra, who doesn’t regret the Ratchadapisek land purchase, the stock deceptions and staggering conflicts of interest. The PAD and the red shirts, who don’t regret whatever they did but have been condemning each other for doing what they also have done. Sonthi Boonyaratglin, who doesn’t regret (at least publicly, not yet) his overthrow of a democratically elected government.
Where can reconciliation come from? Can true peace originate from “I’m right but I understand you” or “You’re wrong, but let’s put this to rest”? If the answer is no, the bad news is that the approach being used left and right here is exactly that.
Call the ongoing process whatever you want – a quest for justice, a shame or a waste of time – but if this is “reconciliation”, who’s saying sorry with hand on heart?
Should Sonthi kick-start a turnaround? Who can lead mass confessions better than a coup-maker who has apparently realised the value of a parliamentary system, is now chairing an ad hoc House committee on reconciliation and has agreed to consider calls to erase the legal consequences of his own actions? Should this old soldier say, “I’m sorry, I was wrong” before he fades away?
Of all the key players in the Thai political crisis, Sonthi is the one showing the least fear of losing face, and he doesn’t seem to care about his own stake that much – at least not now. That is either a glimmer of hope or a false promise. The only certainty is that the road remains long and bumpy, because even for him, sorry seems to be the hardest word.