Don Pathan
The Nation
Pattani
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.
DON PATHAN - Thailand-based security analyst/development consultant (Photo: Anjaman Pass, Afghanistan, with two Northern Alliance fighters, October 2001)
Friday, 22 October 2010
Thursday, 21 October 2010
Never mind religion, autonomy is the issue in the deep South
By Don Pathan
PATTANI __ 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.
PATTANI __ 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.
Thursday, 26 August 2010
Some hearts will never be won in Thailand's tragic South
By Don Pathan
The Nation
Patae, Yala
Behind the wide smile of Fatimoh Paleakawor, one can sense the bitterness in her heart. The mother of ten had, the day before, buried her second child, Mahkoseng Pohtae, 39, who died in Yala Central Prison pending trial on charges relating to the southern insurgency.
Mahkoseng was accused of being part of the Muslim separatist movement that seems bent on carving out a separate homeland for the Malay Muslims in Thailand's three southernmost provinces. He was arrested in April 2009 and beaten senseless by the local police, forcing an intervention by senior government officials and human rights activists.
According to his mother and a senior provincial officer, who spoke on condition of anonymity, Mahkoseng was so badly beaten that he had to be taken away from the police and placed in Yala Central Prison. Upon his arrival, prison officials were extremely uneasy because of his condition.
"A physician was rushed in to examine him. This was to document that all the injuries inflicted upon him had been done before he arrived at the prison," said the Yala officer. "His kidney was severely damaged," he added.
For nearly a year and a half after the incident, Mahkoseng had been in and out of hospital for treatment.
"My son was never the same after that beating," Fatimoh said.
Two police officers and a ranger have been charged with torturing the suspect, and their cases are currently being reviewed by the National Counter Corruption Commission, the independent agency that oversees alleged police abuse and crime relating to government officials.
Two weeks ago, Mahkoseng succumbed to his injuries and died at the Yala Hospital. His lawyer and local human rights activists wanted to carry out a full autopsy, and managed to round up support in kind and money to pay for it. The aim was to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Mahkoseng died from the injuries inflicted on him by the officials in April 2009.
But Fatimoh changed her mind the next day and decided to bury her son instead.
"He suffered enough. There is no need to torture him any more," she said.
For Fatimoh, burying her son within 24 hours of his death - in line with Islamic tradition - was a way of coming to terms with her loss.
An imam at the Patae village mosque, Dorateh Tohdey, made a similar decision when his daughter was shot at point blank range and killed on July 13 by a gunman. The assailant drove up to Dorateh's sedan in a pickup truck and fired a shotgun shell through the window. The round nipped the back of the imam's neck but hit his daughter, Patiya, 20, in the forehead, killing her instantly.
"She has gone to a safer and kinder place," said the imam.
Such killings are an everyday reality in the southernmost provinces, where the ongoing insurgency has claimed more than 4,200 lives since January 2004. Authorities tend to blame Islamic insurgents for all such incidents but no one can really say for sure what percentage of these attacks are personal or political in nature.
Like ordinary Malay villagers in this backwater of Yaha district - a highly contested area where Thai Special Forces roam in groups to deter insurgent attacks - Fatimoh makes ends meet with the helping hands of her children and grandchildren. One works at a tom yum restaurant in Malaysia and sends money home regularly, she said.
Sitting at the doorway of her half-wood, half-concrete house, with a beat-up bench outside the front door and straw mats here and there, Fatimoh doesn't have much to show in terms of physical possession. There isn't even a picture of her late son.
The police took them all when they searched the house last year, she said.
The only available picture of him was a mugshot taken by the family's lawyer shortly after the beating. With bloodied lips, swollen cheeks and blackened, hald-closed eyes, Mahkoseng looked more like a political cartoon character.
But Fatimoh is determined to fight back, and has taken her case to various agencies. She is seeking legal assistance from human rights organisations and the Muslim Attorney Centre.
In the course of the interview, a Special Forces unit drops by with a bag of rice, canned fruit and cookies - part of the military strategy with local people who have lost loved ones.
"What do I do with this?" asked Fatimoh as she turned to a group of foreign journalists.
In spite of the government's stated policy of trying to win the hearts and minds of the local Malay population in the deep South, a culture of impunity continues to prevail among security officials, creating more problems for reconciliation, as well as security.
Fatimoh is part of the growing number of people who have been speaking out against the use of torture against suspects in the deep South, according to Sunai Phasuk of Human Rights Watch.
"Mahkoseng's death is a test case for the Abhisit government on whether it is willing to hold abusers accountable," Sunai said.
"For too long, successive governments in Bangkok have allowed abusive police and soldiers in the South to organise cover-ups and escape criminal prosecution," he added.
According to observers and officials in the region, questionable methods employed by the security forces have pushed more and more people toward the insurgents' side, even to the point of taking up arms.
A number of high profile cases have gone unresolved, including some that have grabbed national and international media attention.
The Nation
Patae, Yala
Behind the wide smile of Fatimoh Paleakawor, one can sense the bitterness in her heart. The mother of ten had, the day before, buried her second child, Mahkoseng Pohtae, 39, who died in Yala Central Prison pending trial on charges relating to the southern insurgency.
Mahkoseng was accused of being part of the Muslim separatist movement that seems bent on carving out a separate homeland for the Malay Muslims in Thailand's three southernmost provinces. He was arrested in April 2009 and beaten senseless by the local police, forcing an intervention by senior government officials and human rights activists.
According to his mother and a senior provincial officer, who spoke on condition of anonymity, Mahkoseng was so badly beaten that he had to be taken away from the police and placed in Yala Central Prison. Upon his arrival, prison officials were extremely uneasy because of his condition.
"A physician was rushed in to examine him. This was to document that all the injuries inflicted upon him had been done before he arrived at the prison," said the Yala officer. "His kidney was severely damaged," he added.
For nearly a year and a half after the incident, Mahkoseng had been in and out of hospital for treatment.
"My son was never the same after that beating," Fatimoh said.
Two police officers and a ranger have been charged with torturing the suspect, and their cases are currently being reviewed by the National Counter Corruption Commission, the independent agency that oversees alleged police abuse and crime relating to government officials.
Two weeks ago, Mahkoseng succumbed to his injuries and died at the Yala Hospital. His lawyer and local human rights activists wanted to carry out a full autopsy, and managed to round up support in kind and money to pay for it. The aim was to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Mahkoseng died from the injuries inflicted on him by the officials in April 2009.
But Fatimoh changed her mind the next day and decided to bury her son instead.
"He suffered enough. There is no need to torture him any more," she said.
For Fatimoh, burying her son within 24 hours of his death - in line with Islamic tradition - was a way of coming to terms with her loss.
An imam at the Patae village mosque, Dorateh Tohdey, made a similar decision when his daughter was shot at point blank range and killed on July 13 by a gunman. The assailant drove up to Dorateh's sedan in a pickup truck and fired a shotgun shell through the window. The round nipped the back of the imam's neck but hit his daughter, Patiya, 20, in the forehead, killing her instantly.
"She has gone to a safer and kinder place," said the imam.
Such killings are an everyday reality in the southernmost provinces, where the ongoing insurgency has claimed more than 4,200 lives since January 2004. Authorities tend to blame Islamic insurgents for all such incidents but no one can really say for sure what percentage of these attacks are personal or political in nature.
Like ordinary Malay villagers in this backwater of Yaha district - a highly contested area where Thai Special Forces roam in groups to deter insurgent attacks - Fatimoh makes ends meet with the helping hands of her children and grandchildren. One works at a tom yum restaurant in Malaysia and sends money home regularly, she said.
Sitting at the doorway of her half-wood, half-concrete house, with a beat-up bench outside the front door and straw mats here and there, Fatimoh doesn't have much to show in terms of physical possession. There isn't even a picture of her late son.
The police took them all when they searched the house last year, she said.
The only available picture of him was a mugshot taken by the family's lawyer shortly after the beating. With bloodied lips, swollen cheeks and blackened, hald-closed eyes, Mahkoseng looked more like a political cartoon character.
But Fatimoh is determined to fight back, and has taken her case to various agencies. She is seeking legal assistance from human rights organisations and the Muslim Attorney Centre.
In the course of the interview, a Special Forces unit drops by with a bag of rice, canned fruit and cookies - part of the military strategy with local people who have lost loved ones.
"What do I do with this?" asked Fatimoh as she turned to a group of foreign journalists.
In spite of the government's stated policy of trying to win the hearts and minds of the local Malay population in the deep South, a culture of impunity continues to prevail among security officials, creating more problems for reconciliation, as well as security.
Fatimoh is part of the growing number of people who have been speaking out against the use of torture against suspects in the deep South, according to Sunai Phasuk of Human Rights Watch.
"Mahkoseng's death is a test case for the Abhisit government on whether it is willing to hold abusers accountable," Sunai said.
"For too long, successive governments in Bangkok have allowed abusive police and soldiers in the South to organise cover-ups and escape criminal prosecution," he added.
According to observers and officials in the region, questionable methods employed by the security forces have pushed more and more people toward the insurgents' side, even to the point of taking up arms.
A number of high profile cases have gone unresolved, including some that have grabbed national and international media attention.
Monday, 12 July 2010
Separatists 'cease fire' in 3 areas
Don Pathan
The Nation
Unilateral gesture aimed at pursuing dialogue on future, says PMLM
Malay-Muslim separatist organisations confirmed yesterday they unilaterally suspended organised attacks against government security forces for the past month in three districts of Narathiwat province.The unilateral cease-fire - billed as a confidence-building measure - was implemented in Rangae, Yingor and Choh I-Rong districts from June 10 until yesterday.
"The aim of this limited cease-fire was two-fold: to indicate the movement's sincerity in wanting to hold a dialogue on the political future of the southern provinces, and at the same time to demonstrate the movement's command and control in the area," according to a statement sent to The Nation by the Patani Malay Liberation Movement.
The PMLM is a joint working group made up of members from the Patani United Liberation Organisation (Pulo) and representatives from the Barisan Revolusi Nasional-Coordinate (BRN-C). Pulo and BRN emerged in the late 1960s but collapsed in the late 1980s following a blanket amnesty that crippled their armed resistance.
PMLM spokesman Kasturi Mahkota, who is also vice president of Pulo, said the "modalities of the suspension of hostilities covered only organised attacks on the security forces and attacks on government targets".
A senior Thai Army officer in Narathiwat, who spoke on condition of anonymity, confirmed the unilateral cease-fire but was quick to point out a violation on June 18 in Cho I-Rong when a police car was hit by a roadside bomb attack. There were three other point-blank shootings against government security forces as well, but it is understood these weren't seen as "organised attacks", as described in the PMLM statement.
A Thai government source said Army chief General Anupong Paochinda, was aware of the militants' unilateral move and had observed it with keen interest. The unilateral suspension of hostilities was the first of its kind in the wave of violence that erupted a decade ago but was not officially recognised until January 2004 when scores of militants raided an Army base and made off with more than 300 weapons. More than 4,000 people have been killed from insurgency-related violence since January 2004. T
he Nation has learned from Thai and BRN-C sources that local military commanders and civilian leaders in the region have also sought, with the help of local community figures, to establish some sort of agreement on the rules of engagement with the local militants' cell.
The absence of an overall policy on the issue of talking to the enemy had forced a number of local commanders to seek such arrangements, they said.
Whether the recently concluded unilateral cease-fire in Narathiwat would pave the way for other bolder initiatives remains to be seen. But Thai security officials on the ground said they were not hopeful, pointing to the spike in violence in other parts of the region.
The decentralised nature of modern militants made it difficult to implement a region-wide initiative or to elevate any confidence-building measures to a national policy, they said.
The Nation
Unilateral gesture aimed at pursuing dialogue on future, says PMLM
Malay-Muslim separatist organisations confirmed yesterday they unilaterally suspended organised attacks against government security forces for the past month in three districts of Narathiwat province.The unilateral cease-fire - billed as a confidence-building measure - was implemented in Rangae, Yingor and Choh I-Rong districts from June 10 until yesterday.
"The aim of this limited cease-fire was two-fold: to indicate the movement's sincerity in wanting to hold a dialogue on the political future of the southern provinces, and at the same time to demonstrate the movement's command and control in the area," according to a statement sent to The Nation by the Patani Malay Liberation Movement.
The PMLM is a joint working group made up of members from the Patani United Liberation Organisation (Pulo) and representatives from the Barisan Revolusi Nasional-Coordinate (BRN-C). Pulo and BRN emerged in the late 1960s but collapsed in the late 1980s following a blanket amnesty that crippled their armed resistance.
PMLM spokesman Kasturi Mahkota, who is also vice president of Pulo, said the "modalities of the suspension of hostilities covered only organised attacks on the security forces and attacks on government targets".
A senior Thai Army officer in Narathiwat, who spoke on condition of anonymity, confirmed the unilateral cease-fire but was quick to point out a violation on June 18 in Cho I-Rong when a police car was hit by a roadside bomb attack. There were three other point-blank shootings against government security forces as well, but it is understood these weren't seen as "organised attacks", as described in the PMLM statement.
A Thai government source said Army chief General Anupong Paochinda, was aware of the militants' unilateral move and had observed it with keen interest. The unilateral suspension of hostilities was the first of its kind in the wave of violence that erupted a decade ago but was not officially recognised until January 2004 when scores of militants raided an Army base and made off with more than 300 weapons. More than 4,000 people have been killed from insurgency-related violence since January 2004. T
he Nation has learned from Thai and BRN-C sources that local military commanders and civilian leaders in the region have also sought, with the help of local community figures, to establish some sort of agreement on the rules of engagement with the local militants' cell.
The absence of an overall policy on the issue of talking to the enemy had forced a number of local commanders to seek such arrangements, they said.
Whether the recently concluded unilateral cease-fire in Narathiwat would pave the way for other bolder initiatives remains to be seen. But Thai security officials on the ground said they were not hopeful, pointing to the spike in violence in other parts of the region.
The decentralised nature of modern militants made it difficult to implement a region-wide initiative or to elevate any confidence-building measures to a national policy, they said.
Saturday, 9 January 2010
Southern militants have scant desire to negotiate
The staged surrender of Suthirak Kongsuwan, one of the suspects behind the massacre at a Narathiwat mosque in June 2009, may not bring needed breathing space for the Abhisit government because, say members of separatist groups, the damage may be irreversible. A secret peace process has been derailed and it will take some time before it gets back on track.
By DON PATHAN
JUST OVER seven months ago, six gunmen sneaked up on a mosque full of people conducting evening prayer in a village surrounded by military camps. They opened fire, killing ten and injuring 11 others.
The 11th victim died in hospital the following day. In a typical knee-jerk reaction, Deputy Prime Minister Suthep Tuegsuband insisted that the June 8, 2009 massacre at Ai Bayae village mosque in Narathiwat was not the work of Thai security forces, although he could not say for sure who the gunmen were.JUST OVER seven months ago, six gunmen sneaked up on a mosque full of people conducting evening prayer in a village surrounded by military camps. They opened fire, killing ten and injuring 11 others.
Local media reported unnamed security officials saying the massacre was the work of Malay Muslim militants bent on driving a bigger wedge between the Malay-speaking region and the state. Other reports quoting unnamed sources said the massacre stemmed from conflict between Muslim missionaries and the Malay villagers, who embrace different schools of thought. While their theological outlook may differ, never in the history of Islamic missionary service in the deep South have such differences turned to violence, much less massacre.
In the past six years of intense violence, there has been only one incident in which suspected insurgents carried out target killing inside a mosque. The place was a village mosque in Panare district of Pattani, and the victim was a Border Patrol Police officer. The gunman waited until he completed his prayers before he shot him at point blank range from behind.
The Ai Bayae massacre should not be compared to the Kru Se Mosque stand-off on April 28, 2004 when insurgents fortified themselves inside the historic mosque as they engaged in a lengthy gunfight with Thai security forces until they were overpowered and killed. Local Malays see their act as heroic, as they gave up their lives just to be heard. All were buried as Muslim martyrs. In this respect, a mosque being the main scene enhances their legitimacy as fighting for a just cause. The June 8 massacre didn't fit that bill. And so when the authorities suggested that the killings may have been the work of insurgents, nobody believed them, not even key security and administrative officials in this highly volatile region.
According to military and civilian officials monitoring the situation from the region, the June 8 massacre was a result of an intense tit-for-tat exchange of bombings and shootings between the insurgents and security units, with the help of pro-government death squads.
While murder has been an everyday occurrence since a January 2004 arms heist, the spate of violence that led to the Ai Bayae massacre was sparked by a court decision. The verdict cleared all security officials from any wrongdoing at the Tak Bai massacre in September 2004, when 78 unarmed Malay Muslim demonstrators died from suffocation. Security officials had stacked them one on top of another in the back of military transport trucks.
Immediately after the ruling, soft targets such as schools and restaurants that were off the militants' radar in the previous year, returned to the hit list. For the insurgency in the deep South, a new threshold had been crossed and the insurgents were not about to let the government forget about it.
For PM Abhisit Vejjajiva, the massacre was a setback in more ways than one. Besides driving a deeper wedge between the state and the Malay Muslim community, it threatened to derailed a peace process his government has been carrying out.
The so-called Geneva Process was jump-started by the government of Surayud Chulanont but was not continued by the following administrations of Samak Sundaravej and Somchai Wongsawat, who were beset by vicious street protests. Abhisit set up a small steering committee made up of trusted MPs and officials from the National Security Council (NSC) to talk to the long-standing separatist groups in exile. These groups include the Patani United Liberation Organisation (Pulo) and various branches of the Barisan Revolusi Nasional (BRN). The idea is to get these old guard to act as brokers between the government and the new generation of militants.
Things were moving along accordingly until the June 8 massacre. According to Pulo and BRN-Coordinate members, the militants on the ground demanded that the Thai authorities arrest the six gunmen in exchange for their endorsement of the peace process.
Essentially, the ball was in the government's court: Arrest the six and bring the peace process back on track. But to get officials to make the arrests wasn't going to be easy, especially when the gunmen were, according to various sources, including Human Rights Watch, members of a pro-government death squad.
Thus began some serious arm-twisting. Mug shots of the suspects were downloaded from the Interior Ministry's ID card databank and distributed around villages. Among the six was a Narathiwat Muslim who had been working as a spy for a local military task force.
According to an informed source, the police eventually detained five gunmen - the sixth had committed suicide, possibly out of fear of retribution - and their secret agent. But it was the military that stalled the due process that was supposed to proceed afterwards. Others said the suspects were kept in a "safe house" until all the stakeholders on the government side could figure out what to do.
The staged surrender of Suthirak stemmed from the enormous pressure from various stakeholders, including lawmakers from the region, who feared the inaction of the government could cost them politically. If the "staged" surrender of Suthirak pays off politically, the public could see more suspects being made public, according to a government source.
But the so-called "surrender" of Suthirak last week raised a new set of questions. Officials in the deep South wonder what is to be gained from it.
Pulo and BRN members said they are not hopeful that the surrender of Suthirak, one of the five supposedly detained, will bring the peace process back on track any time soon.
"The Thai authorities knew from the beginning that the longer they waited, the harder it would be to put the dialogue back on track," said a BRN-Coordinate member.
Moreover, said the BRN member, the juwae - a term he used to describe the new generation of militants - are not that interested in talking to the Thais anyway.
"The way they see it, they are winning. They can hit the Thai authorities more or less at will, at any time, in any place. Unless the government is willing to make some serious concessions, one can forget about seeing peace in the region any time soon."
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Thailand should just accept that South is different
Only way to bring the violent struggle to an end would be to listen to and acknowledge the Malays of Patani
Don Pathan
The Nation
Malaysian Prime Minister Najib Razak came to Thailand with a clear message: the Malay-speaking region in the country's southernmost provinces was an integral part of the Kingdom.
While respecting Thailand's territorial integrity, Najib also reminded the government that the region had different characteristics that would need special attention. Historical grievances and aspirations of the Malays of Patani must be addressed if the conflicts are to end, he warned.
However, perhaps as a move to show that he is a good sport, Najib backed away from the "autonomy" idea, and instead endorsed Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva's "decentralisation" approach.
Amid the spate of bomb attacks against security forces, the two leaders were reminded that where they go from here will not be easy, because behind these bombings was the message: what's acceptable to the two countries may not necessarily be acceptable to the Patani Malays or the separatist movements.
Nevertheless, the cordial atmosphere was an indication that the two countries had moved beyond recent history when Thaksin Shinawatra's arrogance brought bilateral relations to its knee.
Today, that kind of microphone diplomacy is not applied, but that doesn't mean it won't happen again. Thailand's culture of impunity in the restive region could very well have forced Malaysia and other Muslim countries to break their silence.
Apparently, some ill-intentioned people in the restive region don't like the fact that the two countries are moving closer. Posters and banners saying, "Patani is a part of Malaysia" were scattered all over the region, while local residents think some ultra-Thai nationalists looking to distort the significance of the visit might have been behind the incidents.
As pointed out by Senator Warawit Baru, a respected academic from the region, the insurgents don't relate to Malaysia as a nation-state, instead they feel distanced from the Thai state.
It's an open secret that hardliners think Abhisit is giving away too much political capital by allowing Kuala Lumpur to move closer to what they deem as domestic problems. In their mind, a good insurgent is a dead insurgent, so when things such as the banners surfaced, these hardliners in the security community came to mind.
In fact, if one were to go deep enough into the back roads of this restive region, one would see "Patani Merdeka" written all over the place. It means "Free Patani" - free from Thailand and free from Malaysia.
Locals said they were reminded of last year's hoax when a group of ethnic Malays, in fake moustaches and beards, declared an end to insurgency. They called themselves the "Southern Thai Muslims". People with half a brain can figure out who wrote the script. Never in the history of this restive region have the militants called themselves "Southern Thai".
The deep South is undergoing an ethno-nationalistic dispute, one that challenges the Thai state's legitimacy there. Resolving this would require a great deal of sophistication and sensitivity because it centres on national pride, history and the dignity of all the affected parties.
Unfortunately, we never hear the words "human dignity" coming out of either leader's mouth. All we heard were the usual sound bites of how development would cure all. If the past six years are any indication, the billions of baht spent have not really won the state that many hearts. This is not because a big chunk of it is being skimmed off the top, but because handouts do not mean empowerment. They do nothing to enhance one's sense of ownership.
Bangkok will have to let go of its "I know better" attitude and give the Patani Malays enough political space to talk about their grievances, resentments and aspirations.
We may not like the fact that the Thai-Patani history is full of blood, but acknowledging history for what it is can help all sides come to terms with the past and move forward as a united country. Surely the two leaders understand how disturbing an ethno-nationalist struggle can be. After all, they both studied in Britain.
Sadly though, both Abhisit and Najib have been unable to go beyond their narrow mindset of a nation-state. Patani should not be reduced to a footnote in Thailand's nationhood. It has its own myths, legends and tales that are not related to Thailand's history. And if this point is not taken into consideration, any political model, a development scheme or a peace process put forward is doomed to fail.
The Nation
Malaysian Prime Minister Najib Razak came to Thailand with a clear message: the Malay-speaking region in the country's southernmost provinces was an integral part of the Kingdom.
While respecting Thailand's territorial integrity, Najib also reminded the government that the region had different characteristics that would need special attention. Historical grievances and aspirations of the Malays of Patani must be addressed if the conflicts are to end, he warned.
However, perhaps as a move to show that he is a good sport, Najib backed away from the "autonomy" idea, and instead endorsed Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva's "decentralisation" approach.
Amid the spate of bomb attacks against security forces, the two leaders were reminded that where they go from here will not be easy, because behind these bombings was the message: what's acceptable to the two countries may not necessarily be acceptable to the Patani Malays or the separatist movements.
Nevertheless, the cordial atmosphere was an indication that the two countries had moved beyond recent history when Thaksin Shinawatra's arrogance brought bilateral relations to its knee.
Today, that kind of microphone diplomacy is not applied, but that doesn't mean it won't happen again. Thailand's culture of impunity in the restive region could very well have forced Malaysia and other Muslim countries to break their silence.
Apparently, some ill-intentioned people in the restive region don't like the fact that the two countries are moving closer. Posters and banners saying, "Patani is a part of Malaysia" were scattered all over the region, while local residents think some ultra-Thai nationalists looking to distort the significance of the visit might have been behind the incidents.
As pointed out by Senator Warawit Baru, a respected academic from the region, the insurgents don't relate to Malaysia as a nation-state, instead they feel distanced from the Thai state.
It's an open secret that hardliners think Abhisit is giving away too much political capital by allowing Kuala Lumpur to move closer to what they deem as domestic problems. In their mind, a good insurgent is a dead insurgent, so when things such as the banners surfaced, these hardliners in the security community came to mind.
In fact, if one were to go deep enough into the back roads of this restive region, one would see "Patani Merdeka" written all over the place. It means "Free Patani" - free from Thailand and free from Malaysia.
Locals said they were reminded of last year's hoax when a group of ethnic Malays, in fake moustaches and beards, declared an end to insurgency. They called themselves the "Southern Thai Muslims". People with half a brain can figure out who wrote the script. Never in the history of this restive region have the militants called themselves "Southern Thai".
The deep South is undergoing an ethno-nationalistic dispute, one that challenges the Thai state's legitimacy there. Resolving this would require a great deal of sophistication and sensitivity because it centres on national pride, history and the dignity of all the affected parties.
Unfortunately, we never hear the words "human dignity" coming out of either leader's mouth. All we heard were the usual sound bites of how development would cure all. If the past six years are any indication, the billions of baht spent have not really won the state that many hearts. This is not because a big chunk of it is being skimmed off the top, but because handouts do not mean empowerment. They do nothing to enhance one's sense of ownership.
Bangkok will have to let go of its "I know better" attitude and give the Patani Malays enough political space to talk about their grievances, resentments and aspirations.
We may not like the fact that the Thai-Patani history is full of blood, but acknowledging history for what it is can help all sides come to terms with the past and move forward as a united country. Surely the two leaders understand how disturbing an ethno-nationalist struggle can be. After all, they both studied in Britain.
Sadly though, both Abhisit and Najib have been unable to go beyond their narrow mindset of a nation-state. Patani should not be reduced to a footnote in Thailand's nationhood. It has its own myths, legends and tales that are not related to Thailand's history. And if this point is not taken into consideration, any political model, a development scheme or a peace process put forward is doomed to fail.
Friday, 23 October 2009
Fireworks set to go off in the Golden Triangle
THE SHOOTING has stopped and the refugees have returned to their homes on the Burmese side of the border. But it would be a grave mistake to think the fighting and bloodshed on the Sino-Burmese border is over and done with.
By DON PATHAN
THE NATION
Immediately after the mid-August attack on ethnic Chinese Kokang rebels by the Burmese army, politics in the Golden Triangle went into a tailspin. Jolted by the attack against the Kokang, Chinese authorities moved quickly to ensure that the Burmese junta would not make further advances against other cease-fire groups, namely the 20,000-strong United Wa State Army (UWSA).
The junta, on the other hand, justified its attack on the Kokang, after two decades of cease-fire, saying the group was illegally producing arms. Perhaps accusing them of trafficking illicit drugs would be too easy given the fact that just about every ethnic army in the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle is growing opium and making heroin and methamphetamine.
In fact, almost immediately after they came into being, these splinter groups of the now defunct Communist Party of Burma, have flooded the world with heroin and, over the past few decades, methamphetamine. But that was fine as long as some of that money helped build roads, other infrastructure and trickled down into the pockets of Burmese army commanders. This arrangement, however, has effectively come to an end. In the aftermath of the August attack, horse-trading between the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), Burma's junta, and the UWSA has been going on. It won't be the same, but the Wa are trying to hold on to whatever they believe is rightfully theirs. So far, neither side appears to be giving in.
The end of October is reportedly the deadline for the Wa to surrender their arms and come under direct command of the junta. But similar ultimatums have been issued before, and the two sides have always wiggled their way out of such tight spots. In 1996, for example, after joining up with the Wa to defeat the then Shan opium warlord, Khun Sa, and his Mong Tai Army, Rangoon ordered the Wa back to the so-called Special Region 2 on the Sino-Burmese border. But the way the Wa see it, they fought and died for those patches of land along the Thai border. Not long after that, nearly 200,000 villagers along the northern Wa region were relocated to UWSA-controlled areas along the Thai border. With the help of heroin money, temporary outposts became permanent Wa villages.
To begin with, the ceasefire agreements between the junta and the cease-fire groups were never really built on solid ground. The absence of clashes didn't mean peace. It just meant they had agreed to stop shooting at each other for a while. Prior to his ouster in 2004, the then Burmese security chief, General Khin Nyunt, would make annual visits to the Wa stronghold of Panghsang, where UWSA chairman Bao Yuxiang would greet him with a bundle of sugar cane - a symbol of strong friendship. But since Khin Nyunt's fall from grace, a new reality has kicked in. Burmese army commander, Deputy Snr-General Maung Aye, and junta chief Snr-General Than Shwe, have repeatedly made efforts to redefine Rangoon's relationship with the ethnic armies.
The SPDC has, over the years, made overtures to smaller rebel groups and succeeded in getting several of them to surrender their weapons. These outfits would police their own districts, but conventional security would be up to the national army, the Tadmadaw. One such model is Huamuang, a former stronghold of the late Khun Sa, the Shan opium warlord who surrendered in 1997 in exchange for amnesty. In Huamuang, Maha Ja now operates more like a mayor rather than the fearsome warlord he once was. To make certain that he toes the line, Huamuang is surrounded by two Burmese army battalions. But by ousting the Kokang Chinese, the junta effectively shredded the two-decade-old cease-fire agreements. It was also a slap in the face to the Chinese government, which sees these ethnic armies as more or less their proxies even after direct and open support ended in 1989 when the Communist Party of Burma, the umbrella that held these groups together, fell apart. Khin Nyunt then orchestrated a series of cease-fires with these groups.
Two decades later, with the attack on the Kokang, the agreements are more or less in pieces. For the Burmese, there is no turning back. Where the region goes from now is anybody's guess. But for the time being, the Thai authorities are scrambling for any scrap of information - just to get an indication as to what the UWSA, the Chinese government, and the SPDC have up their sleeves. Like Thailand, all these actors are stakeholders.
Whatever happens in this rugged region affects them all - thus the eagerness to know, especially when, in the coming weeks, the Wa leaders and the Burmese junta will get together for what a senior Thai military intelligence officer called the "final showdown". The Burmese are expected to issue another ultimatum to the UWSA this month that basically calls on it to transform into some sort of border patrol police unit under the directive of the Burmese army.
"All are convinced that the Wa will reject this, but no one knows for sure what kind of measures the junta will take up after the rejection," said a Thai officer who spoke on condition of anonymity.
For the Thai government, an all-out war between the Wa and the Burmese could mean hundreds of thousands of refugees flooding into Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai. For the Chinese, watching the Kokang force crumble has not been easy. Their influence in and access to the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle, not to mention their access to the Indian Ocean, was put into question.
All are certain that the UWSA, another of China's long-time friends, is next on the Burmese hit list. Taking out the UWSA may create a new set of ground rules for the Burmese and the remaining cease-fire groups. It won't shut the door on China's entry into Burma, however.
It just means that the Chinese will have one less proxy in Burma. Cross-border friendship is common in this part of the world, where opium warlords and drug armies play for keeps. But by eliminating the Kokang, the Burmese are telling their Chinese neighbour that such friendship will no longer come at the expense of national security.
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