PRIME Minister Manmohan Singh's three-nation visit to Malaysia, Vietnam and Japan marks a reassertion of India's resolve to pursue its "Look East Policy" to achieve its strategic, geopolitical and economic goals.
The signing of a commitment to expand trade with Malaysia next week, a number of pacts with Vietnam and an understanding with Japan on nuclear energy are the highlights of his tour.
That the Look East Policy has received priority is clear from Manmohan's decision not to visit New York for the United Nations General Assembly, an ideal venue for world leaders to hold bilateral discussions on the sidelines.
The man who pushed for the free trade agreement (FTA) with Asean wants to reach out to a 550 million-strong consumer market that exudes a magnetic appeal to the world's industry. Besides the large consumer base, the region is rich in raw materials and energy, which India badly needs for its future development.
India has obvious constraints in its own region, where the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation has not done too well. It is hardly surprising that India's external affairs minister, S. M. Krishna, recently pointed to the dynamic growth rates posted in trade and investment in East Asia and Southeast Asia.
Cooperation between India and Asean has moved at a fast pace since India launched its economic reforms and the Look East Policy in the 1990s. India was a full dialogue partner at the fifth Asean Summit in Bangkok in 1995 and became a member of the Asean Regional Forum in 1996. India and Asean have held summit meetings annually since 2002.
Manmohan will be at the Eighth Asean-India summit in Vietnam next week.
An FTA with Asean signed in August last year in Thailand will boost the group's economic and trade relations with India. India's trade with Asean has surged from US$39.08 billion (RM122 billion) in 2007-08 to US$45.34 billion in 2008-09. There is great potential for trade and investment between India and Asean.
Forming the backdrop of the Manmohan visit to the region was one last month by President Pratibha Patil to Laos and Cambodia. Not only were cultural agreements signed but business talk was also conducted.
The state visits have, in the past, been largely ceremonial in nature. But, now, business delegations accompany the head of state. Patil's delegation had 45 business persons. This is a recent trend and constitutes a significant change that allows economic ties to drive bilateral and multilateral relations.
Patil said the engagement with Cambodia and Laos was set to substantially expand, and would be taken forward bilaterally and through Asean. In Laos, India extended a credit line of US$72.55 million to finance two power projects. In Cambodia, Patil signed two agreements, the first between the comptroller and auditor-general of India and the National Audit Authority of Cambodia, and the second for a US$15 million credit line between EXIM Bank and the Cambodian government for Phase II of the Stung Tassal water development project.
Cambodia is the country coordinator for India in Asean and will occupy the Asean chair in 2012, when India hosts the commemorative India-Asean summit in New Delhi.
In Malaysia, Manmohan will be paying a return visit within nine months of Prime Minister Datuk Seri Najib Razak's successful trip to New Delhi in January. Najib had urged India to conclude the Comprehensive Economic Cooperation Agreement (CECA) and this will now materialise. This will be a landmark.
Trade with Malaysia and Asean could double and, in some cases, even triple. Indeed, Najib, according to one report, has set an ambitious target of US$50 billion in Indo-Malaysian trade by 2015, up from US$7.06 billion last year. The CECA is expected to facilitate the flow of trade and investment between the two nations further. The focus areas of cooperation include construction, road and transport management, information technology, pharmaceuticals and biotechnology.
Malaysia has emerged as a major potential investor in India, with planned investments in power, oil refineries, telecommunications and electrical equipment industries, besides highway and other infrastructure development projects. Also, there are more than 400 Indian companies, including 61 Indian joint ventures, operating in Malaysia.
Many leading Indian companies have made substantial investments in a number of Asean countries and, conversely, Asean countries have also made investments in India.
Many consumer products have entered Indian homes, and Asean firms are vying for a slice of India's US$500 billion infrastructure pie.
The Southeast Asian region has a large Indian diaspora. So, just as Najib made it a point to visit Chennai in January, Manmohan, too, will walk through a refurbished "Little India" in Kuala Lumpur.
While visits have their own place in building relations, there is need for drawing a bigger, long-term course.
Ambassador A. N. Ram, a former Indian envoy to Thailand, suggests a 10-year action plan for consolidating India's ties with the region. This should include, among other things, more sporting events like the India-Asean car rally and promoting greater public participation. There should be an India-Asean network of think-tanks to sustain a broad-based relationship.
The Indo-Asean FTA, Indo-Thai FTA and India-Singapore CECA are central to building up the relationships. Together, India and Asean could amount to the creation of a huge market embracing a combined population of nearly 1.8 billion, with strong economic and political clout.
India and the region could some day become accessible by land, with the trans-Asian rail and road network.
Indian leaders have, generally, enjoyed a cordial relationship with Asean leaders. Indeed, the late Indian prime minister P. V. Narasimha Rao once expressed surprise that his hosts had entitled his address as one about "new relations". India's ties with Southeast Asia had been ancient and have never ceased, he said.
This closeness has been evident in Manmohan's personal chemistry with Asean leaders visiting New Delhi in recent years.
Symbols and symbolisms do play their role in forging ties. Manmohan was one among millions who left from and will return home to New Delhi at an airport that has been refurbished to world-class standards by an Indian-Malaysian joint venture.
New Straits Times
Yacob Raimanee has been the imam of the provincial mosque for more than a decade. Being the spiritual leader of the Pattani Central Mosque is a prestigious position and anyone who occupies it can expect to find himself rubbing shoulders with local and national leaders.
Just a week ago there was an attempt on Yacob's life. Several shots were fired at him from a few metres away but the bullets nipped his cap as he bent down to unlock his front door.
As with other violent incidents, security officials were quick to blame the attack on a new generation of Muslim insurgents bent on carving out a separate homeland for Malays in the southernmost provinces. To date the insurgency has left more than 4,200 dead, mostly ordinary people and government officials.
When a senior figure such as Imam Yacob is targeted, it is no surprise that more eyebrows are raised than usual. Security officials and the political elite in Bangkok are concerned for the well-being of their man in the deep South but are also wondering if the conflict in this highly contested region has reached a new threshold.
But Yacob is much more than a senior public figure. He is seen as a man of substance, a person who the Thai social and political elite can turn to in times of trouble. And the relations between the Malays of Patani and the Thai state have never been anything but troubled.
For as long as anyone can remember, Yacob has been the go-to man for the Thai state. Be it foreign dignitaries or Muslim journalists from Arab countries, Imam Yacob will defend the legitimacy of the Thai state in the Malay historical homeland known as Patani. He often points out to foreign visitors that Muslims in Thailand have more freedom to practice Islam than the Muslims in their respective countries.
There is nothing wrong or incorrect in his claim of religious freedom in Thailand. But this is beside the point when one takes into consideration the historical tension between the Thai state and Patani. The dispute has more to do with Thailand's nation-state construct, which leaves little room for the Malays in the deep South.
Originating from Bangkok, Yacob is very much a Thai Muslim. Like many others he is living proof that Thai Muslims can climb to great heights on the Thai social ladder. And it is true, there could be no limit for a Muslim in Thailand, just as long as he/she doesn't question the legitimacy of the Thai state and the three pillars - nation, religion and monarchy - on which it was built.
That Yacob has also obtained a certain social standing among the Malay-majority community is also testimony that riding on the coattails of the Thai state has its rewards. It reflects, too, the dynamics and complexity within the Malay-speaking South, where historical memories are long.
Locals, for instance, still refer to certain families that sided with the invading Siamese during annexation a century ago as "traitors" and often point to how the state continues to reward these families with top bureaucratic positions.
The Thai state, on the other hand, tends to see things in black and white.
Individuals or institutions with strong Patani Malay nationalist views are seen as a threat to Thai nationhood, like the separatists. Such a narrow mindset discourages frank and open debate on sensitive issues such as identity - in this case Patani Malay - historical and cultural narratives, and how to reconcile these differences.
But it would be misleading to assume that the Malays of Patani are united and all singing from the same song sheet. Globalisation has taken its toll on Patani and the end result is a number of fault lines within the Malay-speaking community.
Divisions exist along the lines of religious affiliation (traditional Shafi'i jurisprudence, orthodox Wahabi, Tablighi Jamaat, or even Shi'ism). They also occur according to the extent of one's loyalty to the state - whether one embraces the Patani historical narrative or opts for the official state version.
Today, one can't really go anywhere without hearing about the tension between the orthodox and the traditionalists, who accounted for about 90 per cent of the local Muslim residents in the deep South. The orthodox tend to shun the Malay-ness of Patani and opt for a more puritanical interpretation of Islam, while traditionalists see their Malay identity as being inseparable from Islam.
Both camps often complain about more or less the same things - students' low test scores, lack of social mobility, lack of commitment from the state in formal education, inadequate representation in the bureaucracy, and so on. But beneath the usual criticism of the state, there is a sense of bitterness as the two sides compete over resources, scholarships and funding for their students, their schools and their associates.
One advantage the orthodox community has over the traditionalist Shafi'i is that the insurgents behind the ongoing violent separatist campaign are from the latter camp. However, this doesn't mean that all traditionalists are armed militants on a mission to secure a separate homeland for the Malays of Patani.
But as donor agencies and countries sit down and look at the proposals from Muslim organisations and foundations of this highly contested region, it is very likely that they will go for a safer bet.
The Nation, Bangkok
'Health emergency' caused by block on humanitarian aid shows that junta is not about to release iron grip on citizens
Burma's election commission chairman, Thien Soe, has dismissed the need for foreign monitors during next month's general election, saying "our country has a lot of experience in elections". One wonders what planet Thien Soe has been living on these past few decades.
Meanwhile, in Bangkok last week the report "Diagnosis: Critical" said that more than half of the deaths in violence-ravaged eastern Burma are being caused by treatable illnesses, with the junta blocking access to healthcare.
A "chronic health emergency" in the ethnic areas strung along the border with Thailand means that 59 per cent of deaths are preventable, said the report.
The international community has been howling at the Burmese junta for years to open up politically, and the upcoming election, which has been widely billed as a sham, will more or less cement the military's place in the country's national politics.
The US State Department has confirmed its earlier statement, saying that they don't think "these will be credible elections". At the same time United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon told the General Assembly that his patience was wearing thin with the regime in Burma, also known as Myanmar.
"Myanmar's lack of engagement is deeply frustrating as it not only contradicts its stated policy of cooperation with the UN but also limits my ability to fully implement the mandate entrusted to me by the General Assembly," he said.
Separately, the special United Nations rapporteur on human rights for Burma, Tomas Ojea Quintana, said, "The potential for these elections to bring meaningful change and improvement in the human rights situation remains uncertain."
Moreover, Quintana's report called into question the 2008 Burmese constitution, saying it "may impede the government from effectively addressing justice and accountability in the future".
Echoing leaders from the international community, Quintana called for the release of political prisoners, particularly the opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi, saying that this would be an "important step to establish an environment for credible, inclusive elections".
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Suu Kyi's freedom and the release of hundreds of other political prisoners would be a welcome confidence-building measure from the military junta.
To suggest that the junta does not care at all about its international image would be misleading, however. But it has long been understood that in Burma security comes first, not the well-being of its citizens. Furthermore, it will be the Burmese generals themselves who chart the country's political future and foreign policy.
After all, this is a country that allows its civilians to bear the consequences of its fight with minority rebels through insufficient investment in healthcare and human rights abuses. The regime's blockading of access for international humanitarian aid means that the needless deaths will continue.
"The inability of the peoples of eastern Myanmar to enjoy basic rights is killing them," said Mahidol University human rights expert Sriprapha Petcharamesree in the report.
It is clear that the biggest losers in the junta's conflicts with ethnic groups are the Burmese people themselves. But there is one player that is coming out ahead - China.
This is not to say that it's all hugs and kisses between junta and China. Neither side trusts the other, but both realise they need each other. China wants Burma's raw materials and an access point to the Indian Ocean while the junta needs Beijing's protection on the international stage, namely in the UN Security Council, as well as the hard currency of its powerful neighbour.
Last year, Burma irked Beijing when it launched an attack on an armed outfit known as the Kokang Chinese, a group that controlled an autonomous region on the Burmese side of the Sino-Burma border. The attack pushed some 37, 0000 refugees, including Chinese citizens, over the border into the province of Yunnan.
Like other armed ethnic rebel groups operating in the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle, the Kokang had the unofficial backing of the Chinese Communist Party. And although the Communist Party of Burma is a thing of the past, many of these groups, such as the Kokang and the United Wa State Army, continue to enjoy a longstanding friendship with Chinese leaders. This complex interplay of alliances puts pressure on the Burmese regime.
In the final analysis, any political solution for Burma must include an exit strategy for the ruling junta. Scolding them for decades hasn't worked. It's time to think differently.
The Nation, Bangkok
Supposed to come into his own in his second term, Indonesia's president is looking even less like his own man
BEFORE last year’s elections in Indonesia, supporters of the incumbent president, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, predicted that victory would lead to a markedly different second term for their champion. A mild-mannered ditherer, he would emerge triumphant and transformed, as a bold and decisive reformer: Super-SBY! Sure enough, his Democrat Party became the largest in parliament and Mr Yudhoyono was re-elected in a landslide. But, as Indonesia marked the first anniversary of his second inauguration on October 20th, SBY2 was looking very much like SBY1. Indeed, in some ways it looks worse. Even some of Mr Yudhoyono’s fans admit to being disappointed.
That might seem harsh. Under his presidency, Indonesia has become a success story.
In November Barack Obama will return to Indonesia, his childhood home and the country that has more Muslims than any other, to pay his respects to a flourishing democracy and bastion of tolerance. Protests marked this week’s anniversary with calls for Mr Yudhoyono to resign. But opinion polls suggest that he remains a popular president, though his once sky-high approval ratings have fallen. Even some environmentalists, traditional thorns in the flesh of Indonesian governments, like him: Mr Yudhoyono having declared a two-year moratorium on large-scale clearance of the country’s rainforests from January 2011.
More broadly, Indonesia’s global stature is rising. The public finances are sound and the economy has sailed through the financial crisis. Among G20 economies, only China and India grew faster than the 4.5% Indonesia achieved last year. In 2010 the rate is likely to be close to 6%. That would have seemed almost unimaginable 12 years ago, when the economy collapsed and Indonesia’s longstanding dictator, Suharto, fell.
Yet it is not churlish to look for more. Indonesia is underperforming. A recent “strategic assessment” by the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University concluded that it is losing ground to its neighbours. Its resilience during the global downturn was in part caused by its skipping the pre-crisis trade boom. Its recovery has been pulled along by Chinese hunger for commodities—notably coal and palm oil. With its wealth of resources, and young population, Indonesia should achieve respectable rates of growth for decades. But respectability will not create enough jobs, let alone secure Indonesia’s aim of becoming “an advanced and self-reliant nation by 2025”.
Many development indicators are bad. In terms of GDP per person, for example, Indonesia is much richer than Vietnam. Yet an Indonesian mother is over three times more likely to die in childbirth than a Vietnamese mother. And her child is nearly three times more likely to die before the age of five.
An important step the government could take to improve things would be to spend less on wasteful subsidies—which account for at least half of its “discretionary” spending (which excludes interest payments, for example)—and more on infrastructure, education and health. Mr Yudhoyono’s previous finance minister, Sri Mulyani Indrawati, made a start on this. But she has since left to join the World Bank, apparently sacrificed in the interests of coalition politics after a tiff with Aburizal Bakrie, a leading businessman, party leader and former cabinet member.
Rather than use his party’s parliamentary numbers to push through reform, Mr Yudhoyono has stuck with a timid consensus style, building a bigger, weaker six-party coalition than he needs. Four of his smaller coalition partners have Islamic roots. To foster some Islamic credentials of his own, perhaps, the president has seemed disappointingly slow to stand up for greater religious tolerance. His government seems especially reluctant to stamp out violence by the “Islamic Defenders’ Front”, or FPI, a group of thugs with religious pretensions and a record of bloody intimidation against Christians, Muslims of the Ahmadiyah sect and others.
And allegations of brutality by the security forces against secessionists in Papua—backed by a gruesome video this week that appeared to show suspects being tortured—suggest that the army has not shed the bad habits it developed in East Timor and Aceh. No senior member of the armed forces, in which Mr Yudhoyono was once a general, has been convicted for abuses carried out under Suharto or since.
Meanwhile, the president is jeopardising one of his most popular traits: hard-earned credentials as a warrior against corruption. Some of the big fish netted in his first term by a feared anti-corruption commission, the KPK, have been freed early.
They include the father of Mr Yudhoyono’s daughter-in-law. Accounts of a VIP’s life in an Indonesian jail anyway make it sound more like a four-star hotel chain than a chain-gang. Worse, no action has been taken against those in the police and the attorney-general’s office found to have fabricated evidence last year in a witch-hunt against KPK officials. The president seems sincere in his abhorrence of corruption, but unwilling to take on vested interests threatened by the anti-graft drive.
Saving graces
Still, Mr Yudhoyono has two big things going for him. First, he may be a Suharto-era general, but he is no Suharto-style dictator. Rather, he practises what the Harvard report calls “collusive democracy”, preferring co-option and consensus to competition. Second, he stands far above any potential successor. As bellicose rival politicians rattled their kris in a recent fishing row with Malaysia, he was statesmanlike and calm. Assessing his presidency this week the Jakarta Post, a liberal English-language newspaper, expressed a hope for better things in the four years he has left in office. But for now, the Post’s disappointed verdict on his tenure is about right: “The president who didn’t mess it up.”
The Economist
THE images beamed across the globe from Jakarta on October 20th—of anti-government protesters being tear-gassed and hosed down by riot police—were enough to make one wonder whether Indonesia really deserves its new acclaim as a model emerging democracy.
If you turn off-camera, however, it’s a completely different story. While the protesters managed to look the part, by burning tyres, smashing through barricades of barbed wire and throwing stones to mark the first anniversary of President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono’s (SBY’s) second five-year term, their bark is far worse than their bite.
Despite the scary scenes appearing on television and in newspapers, there were only about 2,000 demonstrators in total, in this sprawling capital of a country of 240m. That’s more like a grain of sand on one of Bali’s famous beaches than a popular mass movement. The international and local media ought to ask themselves whether they let a few incidents of violence overshadow the fact that the protests overall were insignificant.
As is a common in the capital’s anti-government demonstrations these days, many of the protesters were paid pocket money and given a box lunch in exchange for taking to the streets to embarrass SBY. The footage running in loops through the international television coverage showed unemployed teenagers, housewives, and bemused pedicab drivers among the (in some cases, genuinely) angry demonstrators—hardly an intelligentsia around which the rest of Indonesia might be inspired to rally.
Any why would they? Indonesia is on a roll, enjoying increased international attention from investors, one of the world’s best rates of GDP growth, a red-hot stockmarket, low inflation, decreasing poverty and unemployment figures, and a vibrant free press. That’s hardly the stuff from which revolutions grow.
On the other hand, Indonesia is clearly experiencing teething pains as it attempts to consolidate its democracy. SBY, who won re-election in a landslide in July 2009, has disappointed erstwhile admirers, often seeming unwilling to take on vested political and economic interests. It’s too easy to see the same entrenched players making corrupt deals and enjoying immunity from prosecution.
SBY’s anti-corruption campaign, which won him two elections, has stalled, and his government has remained silent against a steady drumbeat of allegations of torture by the army and police. Poverty remains endemic—more than 100m Indonesians live on less than $2 a day—and some of the country’s development indicators are on par with sub-Saharan Africa.
The daily newspapers are filled with stories about ordinary citizens tossed into jail for picking bananas off the wrong tree, or for complaining about a hospital. On the other side of the coin, corrupt businessmen with political connections dodge billions of dollars in tax assessments and royalties, only to pose as moral guardians by helping to pass censorious laws against indecency in the popular media.
There are legitimate grounds for anger. But these days they tend not to bring protesters to the streets. For that you’d do better to offer pocket money and the chance to appear on television.
The Economist
JAKARTA — For millions, Suharto, the military strongman who ruled Indonesia for 32 years, was a tyrant, a thief and a murderer.
But more than 12 years after his fall from power in a popular uprising, and two years after his death, unpunished, at age 86, an effort is under way to redefine his legacy: as a national hero.
The Indonesian media have been filled with heated debate since it emerged earlier this month that Mr. Suharto’s name had made it onto a Social Affairs Ministry annual shortlist of candidates to be added to Indonesia’s official pantheon of 138 national heroes.
The move, initially proposed by the leader of the Central Java district that houses Mr. Suharto’s mausoleum, has angered political reformists and many ordinary Indonesians, who see his rule as a time of unrestrained corruption and repression.
For many others, however, including the thousands of Indonesians who showed up at Muslim prayers that culminated on Friday — marking 1,000 days since Mr. Suharto’s death — the move taps into nostalgia for a time of order and stability that contrasts with today’s messy democracy.
All this leaves a political time bomb for the country’s first directly elected president, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, who will have to vet the shortlist, before it goes to an expert committee, and then award the honor on Heroes’ Day, on Nov. 10.
“This is an insult to common sense and humanity,” said Fadjroel Rachman, a prominent activist who was jailed for three years by Mr. Suharto’s government. “The objective of reformasi was the overthrow, the stepping down of Mr. Suharto as a dictator, as a corrupter and a human rights violator,” he said, referring to the 1998 student-led protests, triggered by the Asian economic crisis, that forced Mr. Suharto’s resignation and the subsequent program of democratic reforms.
“We’re urging Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono not to make Suharto a national hero,” he said, “or we’ll have to call him a traitor to reformasi.”
Mr. Yudhoyono, a former general who rose up the ranks during Mr. Suharto’s New Order regime, has, true to his reticent public style, so far not indicated which way he is leaning.
The president has seen his popularity, while still high, steadily slide since he was re-elected for a second term last year. Rowdy protests across the country this week marking the first year of that term criticized, in part, a lack of progress on promised reforms on such fronts as corruption in government institutions. Honoring Mr. Suharto, who is believed to have pilfered billions from the state and jailed and killed large numbers of opponents, would hardly bolster the president’s reformist credentials.
The proposal to proclaim Mr. Suharto a hero has powerful backers, however. This week, the national conference of the Golkar party, the former political vehicle of Mr. Suharto and now a key coalition member in Mr. Yudhoyono’s cabinet, threw its support behind the move. Across Indonesia’s political party system, business elite and state institutions, a generation of former Suharto loyalists still holds sway.
The committee that will make the final decision on the national hero honor is dominated by former Suharto-era functionaries.
According to Akbar Tandjung, a senior Golkar politician, Mr. Suharto deserves to be honored for “saving Indonesia as a nation from destruction, conflict and crisis” by seizing power in the wake of an alleged Communist coup attempt in 1965. At least half a million people suspected of being Communists were massacred in the aftermath of that attempt.
As for the widespread rights abuses that marked by Mr. Suharto’s rule, including the jailing, killing and exile of opponents, Mr. Tandjung said in an interview that they were necessary evils for national stability and development. “A leader has to make decisions in any situation,” he said, “and they won’t make everyone in the community happy.”
Although it is a debate over symbolism, the proposal to make Mr. Suharto an official hero could have real consequences as a repudiation of Indonesian democracy, said Wimar Witoelar, a political analyst who was a spokesman for the late Abdurrahman Wahid, a liberal Islamic figure who was elected president by Parliament after Mr. Suharto’s fall and is also on this year’s shortlist of heroes.
As the heir to the Suharto brand, Golkar would gain from a rehabilitation of his name, Mr. Witoelar said. Rebuking democracy as it has developed under Mr. Yudhoyono would also help potential 2014 presidential hopefuls such as Aburizal Bakrie, the billionaire tycoon who is chairman of Golkar, Mr. Witoelar said.
“I think it would just devaluate the title of national hero, would make it a very cynical label for political convenience,” he said. “Because there’s nothing really more unhealthy for the nation’s self perception than to name the biggest corruptor, despot, human rights abuser of recent times as the nation’s hero.”
Public opinion on the proposal is divided. Many Indonesians hold a deep ambivalence about Mr. Suharto’s record.
A common refrain here is that the man also dubbed “the father of development” was a stabilizing force who, particularly in his later years, was nevertheless capable of destructive excess.
New York Times
There are times when observers will be tempted to ask if Thai society is corrupt in its thinking and morally bankrupt beyond redemption. Consider the following examples:
New Army chief General Prayuth Chan-ocha on Monday promoted dozens of Army officers who had taken part in the April-May crackdown on red shirts, which resulted in 91 deaths, even though the government appointed fact-finding panel looking into these deaths is nowhere close to providing details on the exact circumstances on each.
Prayuth apparently cannot and will not wait until the findings "clear" these officers of any possible wrongdoing, despite the fact various sources in the Army say excessive and lethal force was employed.
Apparently Prayuth doesn't care.
Senator Kamnoon Sitthisamarn, one of the brains behind the yellow-shirt People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD), suggested in his column in the October 11 edition of ASTV-Manager Daily that the so-called symbolic protests on September 19 and October 10 in Bangkok and beyond - initiated by red-shirt supporter Sombat Boon-ngarm-anong - which attracted close to 10,000 people were "more dangerous" than an armed rebellion.
Kamnoon urged the government to stop Sombat and his followers before it was too late.
"The struggle outside the system, outside the frame of law, without form and without a command centre is now spreading widely. It is believed that even if Pol Lt-Colonel Thaksin Shinawatra ordered them to stop, it wouldn't work
There was a time when those who opposed the red shirts said that Thaksin had hired and herded mostly poor and uneducated farmers to come out and protest. Now, people like Kamnoon are worried that the red shirts are acting on their own accord.
This is not "a scarier future", as Kamnoon concludes in his column, if you are all for democracy. A more participatory and democratic transformation of reds ought to be welcomed. Many reds are now taking initiative, forming their own small groups, while people like Kamnoon continue branding as "more dangerous" than armed reds.
Does this writer think the red shirts ought not to have any political voice at all? Or are the red shirts only good if they become yellow? What's the point of being a democracy then?
The continued denial by members of the National Reform Committee that they were appointed by the government. They say only the head of the committee, former premier Anand Panyarachun in this case, was appointed by Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva.
Then we must ask: Why did Abhisit appoint Anand and leaders of other committees in the first place? Could it be a political manoeuvre after the 91 deaths?
Doesn't Anand think he would be seen as a bit more independent if he chose not to be appointed by Abhisit and initiated the entire thing himself without using the taxpayers' money?
And what about the three-year mandate the government has given the panel? The red shirts' boycotted it, as well as a parallel event organised last week by academics and activists who felt the project was just a tool of the elite to prolong their rule over society.
There must be some logic in all these three examples. After all, the key characters are shamelessly dedicated in achieving their less-than-democratic goals at whatever price. And they think they can get away with it too.
So who are we to say they are morally bankrupt?
The Nation, Bangkok
