Self-exiled former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, facing criminal prosecution should he return, is reported to have told key red-shirt leaders recently to “play dead”, in other words “lie low”, until his party returns to power in the next election. He offered no acknowledgement whatsoever that he is at least partly to blame for Thailand’s trouble, only that he is waiting to strike back. It is the strategy of the vengeful, of someone feeling hard done by.
The Thai political crisis, however, has gone far beyond the question of whether Thaksin is a mistreated hero or a destructive villain, so at this stage his attitude isn’t the least bit helpful.
Thaksin advising his lieutenants to “play dead” means that Thailand’s vicious cycle is sure to continue, plots followed by counterplots. He is convinced – perhaps rightly – that his party can again take the reins of state power, but, if so, that will by no means be the end of it. If he believes his return to power would resolve the political strife once and for all, he’s almost certainly wrong.
A simple analysis justifies the “play dead” advice. The interim government is not repeating the mistake of the 2006 coup leaders, who allowed a pro-Thaksin party to swiftly return to power. Leaders of the pro-Thaksin movement have instead been put under strict surveillance. Ex-premier Yingluck Shinawatra, Thaksin’s sister, is facing jail over the rice-pledging scheme. Other pro-Thaksin politicians have either been legally threatened or sent fleeing. The Krung Thai Bank loan scandal poses a legal threat to Thaksin’s son.
But there’s a big difference between “playing dead” and “playing it right”. The Shinawatras are tainted, and the more Thaksin attempts to attach his family name to “democracy”, the more difficult it will be for Thailand to become a true democracy. Everyone wants to get back to democratic rule, but the mere mention of his name makes too many people cringe.
Political morality has been twisted beyond recognition, but the clear reality is that Thaksin and the military have become the chicken and the egg, not in terms of who should be blamed first, but in the sense that one can’t disappear without the other doing the same. Simply put, if Thaksin stays politically active, so will the military.
Thaksin is not Aung San Suu Kyi, who endured detention and suffered alongside her people. He is not Nelson Mandela, who fought for a pure ideology.
Thaksin’s activism doesn’t seem to have been motivated by patriotism. A lot of Thailand’s troubles stem from his controversial wealth – the vested interests, the family’s still-lavish lifestyle. It’s too late to debate what was just or unjust regarding the seizure of his assets. It’s never too late, however, for Thaksin to take a long, hard look at himself.
His supporters are proclaiming that he’s become a symbol. Whoever is defending this imperfect man, they say, is fighting for political rights. The irony is that, the more such claims are made, the harder it becomes for true political rights to be recognised. This means the leading pro-Thaksin figures must also rethink. Are they fighting for democracy, or are they making it harder for democracy to be established firmly and healthily in Thailand?
To promote the true voices of rural people, everyone including Thaksin must think carefully. It’s probably true that the harder the fight, the sweeter the victory, but the fight must be genuinely noble. Democracy deserves a good, brave and worthwhile champion, not a questionable proxy who keeps giving it a bad name.