Nong Laila shows us how to scold 'thieves'

A lot has been said already about “What we have learned” from Nong Laila’s case, but let me jump on the bandwagon. Take away the “I don’t want to miss the trend” impulse driving much of the public reaction, and this latest social media phenomenon is intriguing and charming. A girl lost her cheap meal and senior officials scrambled to give her “compensation” while the media fell over themselves to pursue the story. Are you kidding me?

Here are my thoughts on the Nong Laila issue: If you steal Bt100, you are a petty thief. If you break into a house, tie up the owner and take his belongings, you are a robber. If you dupe someone into giving you Bt1,000, you are a conman. If you loot a few ships, you are a pirate. If you take a gun and go on a shooting spree at a fast-food restaurant, you are a random killer.

Now, multiply everything by a lot. Say you lay your hands on Bt200 million that isn’t supposed to be yours. You will likely be proclaimed a financial genius and poised to take a hedge fund executive position. If, in the old days, you broke into a country, killed its “owners” and took away their belongings, you were an emperor. In this modern era you would be primed for promotion in a superpower’s military. The same goes if you destroy an entire maritime fleet or take more innocent lives than all campus shootings combined could ever do.

When bad things are done on a grand scale, feelings can change. That’s why a lot of people identified with Nong Laila, but that’s also why the outpouring of support and sympathy for her is anything but a collective message on where we stand on theft or robbery. By “theft or robbery”, I mean taking anything that isn’t yours, no matter how big or small or by what means.

Her case involved the most minuscule form of theft. The culprit could have been a hungry child in the neighbourhood or a starving street dog. Or it could have been a secret admirer fooling around. Or it could have been another girl who didn’t like Nong Laila that much. But Nong Laila was angry and we, in unison, understood why.

When higher forms of theft are concerned, we start to get divided. We “willingly” paid the insurance companies or investment funds, didn’t we, so why accuse them of stealing? Tax evasion? It’s not even stealing. Moreover, don’t blame the evaders, blame the loopholes. Besides, everybody else is doing it. When politicians loot state coffers, it’s not just our money. And, again, who isn’t doing it? When national resources are plundered, well, don’t use “plunder” to begin with: Thai resources like crude oil are as likely to be exploited for private gain by Thais as by Western companies, so what’s the point?

Nong Laila came out with all guns blazing against whoever stole her meal; we can only wish society had the same attitude towards the bigger thieves. And we hope the culprit behind the disappearance of her sticky rice and chicken doesn’t grow up to steal a chicken farm or its tax money to the state. And if it really was a hungry dog, as police suspect, we hope the media doesn’t track it down and make it a hero. After all, there are other starving dogs out there that choose to rummage in garbage piles rather than steal.

We wonder what would happen if someone scolded corrupt politicians or fraudulent insurers in the style of Nong Laila. The reality is the video would be taken off YouTube in an instant and the lawsuits would fly. There’s a great chance the scolding would backfire and the crooks become living martyrs. And forget about “compensation”. We all know asset seizures never happen under normal circumstances, and unless the crooks are made to compensate in an “acceptable” way, the punishers can end up branded “thieves” themselves.

Can we treat all whistleblowers like we treat Nong Laila? She is a celebrity now, having appeared on more TV news reports and front pages than, say, the official who was among the first to cry foul over the rice-pledging scheme. Nong Laila, for all the absurdity in the wake of her outburst, is a teacher who has finished giving us all a lesson. It’s up to us what we do about it.