Don Pathan
The Nation
In mid-2005, less than two years after the current insurgency exploded in the Muslim-majority three southernmost provinces, Thai security officials began to reconnect with exiled separatist leaders. They were hoping that these ageing leaders from various long-standing separatist groups could talk sense into the new generation of militants, locally known as juwae, or "fighter", in the Patani Malay dialect.
One issue the exiled leaders always put on the table whenever they meet the Thai side is the target killings of religious leaders by pro-government death squads. Naturally, the government side points to the collateral damage, as well as target killings of innocent people.
Insurgents insist that spies are fair game. Nevertheless, there have been incidents in which innocent civilians were targeted as part of the tit-for-tat between the two sides. An eye for an eye, so they say.
The problem for observers is that, unlike conflicts in other parts of the world, the insurgents in Thailand's deep South do not surface to make claims. This is also very different from the previous generation of Patani Malay separatists, who began to dwindle in the late 1980s.
Today, the theatre of violence is not just in remote areas but in towns and cities, and no one really knows who's behind the attacks, such as Tuesday's drive-by shooting on a teashop in Narathiwat's Rangae district that killed four and injured four.
For the past nine years, one thing has been clear: the juwae, as part of their coordinated campaign, have continuously turned up the heat, inflicting greater psychological damage with their attacks.
Remember how irritated the authorities were at the very first car bomb near a hotel in Sungai Kolok in October 2009? Today, bombs are hidden on motorbikes, in pickup trucks, cars and under the tarmac, waiting for security personnel to pass by.
Often, these attacks are not as discreet. An attack in Pattani's Mayo district last July, when insurgents in three pickup trucks drove up to soldiers on two motorbikes and began firing at close range, was carried out in front of security cameras. It jolted the entire nation and forced the government into a knee-jerk reaction.
While some attacks are easier to predict, such as an ambush of police or soldiers followed by a brief gunfight, roadside car bombs are not.
As in other sub-national conflicts, security officials are pretty much sitting ducks. But insurgents' choices of targets and tactics, on the other hand, change often. In 2007, more than 100 schools came under arson attack. The following year, less than ten.
According to the website of the Regional Education Office No 12 (www.coad3.org/web/), an entity of the Education Ministry that oversees the southernmost provinces, nine teachers were killed in 2004. But from 2005-2007, 65 teachers were killed. The figure dropped by half from 2008-2011, with an average of ten teachers killed each year. And this year, only two teachers had been killed as of October 3.
All that changed on November 14 when gunmen, believed to be part of a pro-government death squad, killed an imam in Yala's Yaha district. Abdullateh Todir, 49, was a member of the Islamic Committee of Yala, as well as chairman of the Imam Association of Yaha. He is a resident of Tambon Patae, an extremely volatile area in this highly contested region of Thailand.
An exiled leader in the BRN-Coordinate accused the government side of killing the imam. The cleric's relatives and friends agreed. There was an attempt on Abdullateh's life about a year ago but a bullet missed him and took his daughter's life instead. Days later, a team of three Special Forces soldiers were providing security for the imam. The team leader, a lieutenant wearing a sarong and traditional Malay shirt, and accompanied by two armed soldiers in fatigues, rode pillion with Abdullateh up and down the Yaha-Bannang Sata backroads. "We're friends," said the smiling lieutenant, pointing to the imam, as he looked at this correspondent, who visited the cleric the day after the failed attempt on his life.
Abdullateh's neighbourhood, Tambon Patae, is one of the reddest areas classified by authorities as a "red zone." Thai official sources said the Special Forces and civilians may have wanted Abdullateh alive because they saw him as a potential go-between for the authorities wanting to set up a line of communication with the insurgents. But others may have found him guilty by association, said the BRN source.
The killing of Abdullateh set off a wave of retaliation including a motorbike bombing of a Paramilitary Ranger unit in downtown Yala, the bombing of a train bogey carrying security personnel in Narathiwat, arson attacks on a school in Pattani, and attacks against three teachers, two of whom were killed.
As part of the damage control, Thawee Sodsong, head of the Southern Border Provinces Administration Centre (SBPAC), ordered an investigation into the killing of Abullateh.
But that hasn't changed much on the ground. On Tuesday in Narathiwat's Rangae district, a three-man death squad dressed in black jumped out of a pickup truck and fired on a teashop full of local Malay-Muslim villagers. Four, including an 11-month-old baby, were killed and another four were wounded.
Later in the day, in Tambon Panan in Pattani's Mayo district, five gunmen charged into a schoolyard and shot to death the director and a teacher. As in all other incidents, police said the attackers were insurgents.
Frustrations run high, indeed, especially among agencies that are against the use of death squads to even the score. Many believe target killings have created a reverse effect, such as encouraging people to take up arms to avenge the death of their imam or friends or relatives.
Others, like the SBPAC, believe in establishing dialogue with the separatists. The problem is that their dealings with the old guard have not delivered the desired outcome.
"The government fails to end vigilantism allegedly carried out by rogue security units in revenge for insurgent attacks on Buddhist Thai officials and civilians," said Sunai Phasuk, senior researcher at Human Rights Watch.
"Insurgents may claim that abuses by the security forces justify their attacks, but the government should not allow its troops to adopt the same logic. Any attempt to cover up the misconduct of security forces will further escalate a cycle of reprisal violence. And clearly, this is not an environment to build communal trust, necessary for a peace dialogue," Sunai said.
Judging from the violence that has been unleashed over the past four weeks, it may be a long time before the situation returns to normal, whatever normal means.
DON PATHAN - Thailand-based security analyst/development consultant (Photo: Anjaman Pass, Afghanistan, with two Northern Alliance fighters, October 2001)
Saturday, 15 December 2012
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
T hailand barking up the wrong tree: Wan Kadir
Don Pathan
The Nation
Last week the former leader of Bersatu, a now-defunct umbrella group of longstanding Patani Malay separatist movements, gave a talk about the ongoing conflict in the deep South that has so far claimed more than 5,000 lives.
It was Wan Kadir Che Man’s first public appearance in nearly a decade.
Wan Kadir, who did his graduate work in the United States and his PhD in Australia, refused to mince words, telling an audience mainly of journalists that the Thai government had been “barking up the wrong tree” with peace talks that kicked off almost 10 months ago on February 28.
It was obvious that the people with whom the Thais were talking could not influence the insurgents on the ground, he said. The Thai side had been given ample warning from the very start that the insurgents on the ground were not going to go along with an initiative launched by former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, he added.
Wan Kadir pointed to the March 2012 meeting between Thaksin and a group of 16 leaders, including him, of various longstanding separatist movements, noting that the response from insurgents on the ground was a triple car-bomb attack in the heart of Yala two weeks later. A simultaneous bomb attack targeted a downtown Hat Yai hotel.
Thirteen were killed and 100 injured in those attacks. But Bangkok decided to overlook the incidents and push through a “peace process” that was officially launched on February 28, almost a year after Thaksin came into the picture.
Observers suspect that Wan Kadir was invited to Bangkok last week because the Thai side wanted the ageing leader to endorse their peace initiative. But they didn’t think he would be so frank and honest in his criticism.
Another reading is that the military was using him to discredit a process they have disliked from the beginning. Back in the 1980s, talking to the separatists was the exclusive job of the Army. In 2005, they were relieved of this task, and the top brass have yet to come to terms with the idea of a civilian-led peace initiative in the deep South.
Wan Kadir talked last week of the need to understand the identities and motivations of the group or groups behind the ongoing violence, and took a veiled jab at “opportunists” who are exploiting the ongoing conflict for their own gains.
While negotiating with the combatants is a good thing, he said, the conflict is so complex and multi-layered that focusing solely on ending the violence would not be enough to bring about a permanent and lasting peace to this highly contested region.
After April 28, 2004, when more than 100 young men armed with little more than machetes attacked well-armed security outposts, Wan Kadir publicly announced his desire to return to Thailand from Malaysia to help prevent the situation from getting out of hand.
The fear among many security officials and exiled leaders was that if well over 100 young men were willing to charge to their certain deaths, what might the future bring?
But then-premier Thaksin shunned Wan Kadir’s request, and Kuala Lumpur felt he was “too hot to handle,” so sent him off for a second period of exile in Europe.
Although the machete-wielding militant network melted away after it became clear that knives were no match for machine guns, the security situation on the ground is little better than it was in 2004.
Thai security officials are still “sitting ducks”, even when speeding through back roads in remote villages.
Wan Kadir said that there are so many groups and factions using the same name and wanting to be part of the peace process that the talks are anything but coherent. But while there is competition among separatist leaders, there is nevertheless common ground among local Malay Muslims in southern Thailand, he said. During a July 2005 interview with The Nation, Wan Kadir was asked about the basis for Patani Malays’ unity. He stated:
“The Malays are united by their cultural identity and a long history of resentment. They don’t see their region getting a fair share of the country’s wealth and development, and they don’t see their history being taught in school or their past being recognised by the country that they are supposed to be a part of. I think that if the state makes a concerted effort to bridge this gap, perhaps the tension will subside and both sides will begin to trust each other. For this to happen, all sides have to work together. Whether we are Buddhists or Muslims, we are all equal in the eyes of God. But this is not enough: we must be equal in the eyes of each other as well.”
Don Pathan is a member of the Patani Forum (www.pataniforum.com) and a freelance consultant based in Yala.
Monday, 27 August 2012
Talk of reopened border stirs bad memories for army
By Don Pathan
The Nation
A mobile unit from the Foreign Ministry recently visited the northern border to check on a request from the business sector about opening up a couple of border passes linking Thailand with Myanmar's Shan State.
The argument is that the passes would help promote cross-border trade and boost the local economy. It was also reported that the Third Army Area was not exactly thrilled with the idea for fear it could boost drug traffic coming from the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle.
On the surface, the Third Army Area has reason for concern. A sizeable chunk of the Myanmar sector of the Golden Triangle is controlled by armed ethnic groups and warlords with either peace or cease-fire agreements with the government of Myanmar.
But given the fact that the Thai-Myanmar border is so porous, it wouldn't make sense to send drug caravans through the proposed checkpoints likely to be manned by security officials.
One of the crossings local businessmen would like to reopen is, of course, at San Thon Doo in Chiang Rai. It leads to Muang Yawn, one of the strongholds of the United Wa State Army (UWSA), a 30,000-strong outfit that produces some of the world's finest heroin. The Wa also floods the streets of Bangkok and other major cities around Southeast Asia with millions of methamphetamine tablets.
Perhaps the question to ask is: who would benefit the most from these proposed border crossings should the government give the green light for them to be reopened? In the mid-1990s, local businesses were using the same argument - about the need for more cross-border trade, and so on. They bypassed the Army and went straight to the National Security Council (NSC) who was authorised by local officials to set up a border crossing, but with a limited capacity. But that was all that was needed - just enough so they could transport their trucks, tractors, and other heavy machinery to help build towns in the UWSA-controlled areas.
All the while, Thai soldiers on the border were not at all comfortable with the idea that Thai citizens were having so many business dealings with the Wa, much less the fact that the outfit had set up three regiments along the common border. The Thai Army and the UWSA already had uneasy relations. Soldiers from both sides would play volleyball almost on a daily basis at the Sun Thon Doo crossing but kept their firearms within reach.
The three Wa regiments were in areas once occupied by the Mong Tai Army (MTA), an outfit under the control of the late Shan opium warlord Khun Sa. One of the regiments is today commanded by a notorious warlord, Wei Hsueh-kang, an ethnic Chinese with a US$2 million (Bt62 million) reward from the United States on his head.
The UWSA helped the Myanmar army defeat the MTA in 1997. But instead of returning to their stronghold along the Sino-Myanmar border, the UWSA stayed put and built new towns - with the help of Thai contractors.
The turning point for the Thai-UWSA relationship came one morning in February 1999 when authorities found nine Thai villagers from Chiang Mai's Fang district beaten to death, with their hands tied behind their backs.
Some authorities believed the gruesome murders were the result of a drug-deal gone wrong, while the locals insisted the victims were innocent villagers out on a hunting trip. In the final analysis, all fingers pointed to the newly built Mong Yawn, a southern stronghold of the UWSA, about 20 kilometres from the Thai northern border, inside Shan State.
Local media played up the stories, and the military and police came out in force blasting the UWSA. A curfew was imposed in a number of districts in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai, and Prime Minister Chuan Leekpai visited San Thon Doo checkpoint. Sealing off the border crossing that leads directly to the UWSA stronghold seemed a logical move.
For the Thai soldiers along the border, the new anti-UWSA policy meant their daily volleyball game with the Wa troops had to come to an end. For the Thai nationals who had business dealings with the Wa, the closure of the Son Thon Doo crossing meant alternative routes would have to be found. The call for a border checkpoint in nearby Baan San Maket in Chiang Rai was quickly shot down by the NSC, the very organisation that approved the opening of the Son Thon Doo crossing just a year ago in earlier 1998.
Thai businessmen turned to the Mae Sai-Tachilek border crossing in Chiang Rai to transport their goods to Mong Yawn, while a number of Thai workers began to use the Kok River to travel back and forth to their work sites. The final move came in August 1999 when the NSC declared the UWSA-controlled area off-limits and ordered all Thai nationals and construction companies to return home.
The UWSA desired an entrance into Thailand more than anything. The drug army wanted to befriend Thailand because it does not want to rely solely on China as its only window to the world. The Wa didn't trust Myanmar in spite of signing a cease-fire agreement with it in 1989. In other words, the Wa wanted to diversify their relationships. Pretty ambitious, indeed, for a drug army many of whom were head-hunters just a generation ago.
But the aftermath of the Fang massacre heightened the hostility between the two sides that would turned into a full blown battle. In March 2002 an advance unit was dispatched to Chiang Mai's Wiang Haeng district as part of routine security details to prepare for the visit of HM the Queen of Thailand, who was due to arrive later in the day.
But out of the blue, a Wa drug caravan slithering through Thai territory was intercepted by HM's security details. A firefight went on for four hours, ending with the death of a Thai soldier. Her Majesty was advised to remain in her palace in Chiang Mai.
For the Thai Army, the clash was not just another border skirmish with another Wa drug caravan. The fact that the Queen could not travel freely in her own kingdom was a deep affront to the soldiers. Again, all fingers pointed to the UWSA. It was generally agreed the pro-Myanmar outfit had to be taught a lesson.
Two months later in a pre-dawn raid in May 20, 2002, Thai infantry units and armoured personnel carriers (APCs) supported by light and heavy artillery launched an all-out offensive to take out positions manned by the UWSA.
The APCs, along with soldiers from Special Forces units, cavalry squadrons and artillery units, had been seen taking up positions along the northern border in Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and Mae Hong Son provinces in the past weeks to await instruction. It was supposed to be a military training exercise, the Surasri 143. Few had thought from the onset this field exercise would turn out to be one of the biggest military operations since the Vietnam War.
The battles took place well within Myanmar's territory and went on throughout the day. Artillery fire supported the advancing Thai soldiers carrying out search-and-destroy missions against the UWSA's drug labs and military outposts just kilometres inside the Myanmar border. At the Kiw Pha Wok border checkpoint in Chiang Mai's Chiang Dao district, hundreds of Thai villagers fled deeper inside the country and took refuge at a nearby Buddhist temple until it was safe to return to their villages in a day or two.
The following day, Yangon protested "in the strongest possible terms that the unprovoked attack violated our sovereignty and territorial integrity". Then Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was speechless but the Thai Army insisted Surasri 143 was just a military exercise.
The Myanmar Army held a press conference condemning the Thai military action and made reference to Thailand as "Ayothaya" - to remind the Thai nation of a past that Thailand didn't want to remember. Bilateral ties went into a tailspin and it would be some time before some form of normalcy returned to the border.
The Nation
A mobile unit from the Foreign Ministry recently visited the northern border to check on a request from the business sector about opening up a couple of border passes linking Thailand with Myanmar's Shan State.
The argument is that the passes would help promote cross-border trade and boost the local economy. It was also reported that the Third Army Area was not exactly thrilled with the idea for fear it could boost drug traffic coming from the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle.
On the surface, the Third Army Area has reason for concern. A sizeable chunk of the Myanmar sector of the Golden Triangle is controlled by armed ethnic groups and warlords with either peace or cease-fire agreements with the government of Myanmar.
But given the fact that the Thai-Myanmar border is so porous, it wouldn't make sense to send drug caravans through the proposed checkpoints likely to be manned by security officials.
One of the crossings local businessmen would like to reopen is, of course, at San Thon Doo in Chiang Rai. It leads to Muang Yawn, one of the strongholds of the United Wa State Army (UWSA), a 30,000-strong outfit that produces some of the world's finest heroin. The Wa also floods the streets of Bangkok and other major cities around Southeast Asia with millions of methamphetamine tablets.
Perhaps the question to ask is: who would benefit the most from these proposed border crossings should the government give the green light for them to be reopened? In the mid-1990s, local businesses were using the same argument - about the need for more cross-border trade, and so on. They bypassed the Army and went straight to the National Security Council (NSC) who was authorised by local officials to set up a border crossing, but with a limited capacity. But that was all that was needed - just enough so they could transport their trucks, tractors, and other heavy machinery to help build towns in the UWSA-controlled areas.
All the while, Thai soldiers on the border were not at all comfortable with the idea that Thai citizens were having so many business dealings with the Wa, much less the fact that the outfit had set up three regiments along the common border. The Thai Army and the UWSA already had uneasy relations. Soldiers from both sides would play volleyball almost on a daily basis at the Sun Thon Doo crossing but kept their firearms within reach.
The three Wa regiments were in areas once occupied by the Mong Tai Army (MTA), an outfit under the control of the late Shan opium warlord Khun Sa. One of the regiments is today commanded by a notorious warlord, Wei Hsueh-kang, an ethnic Chinese with a US$2 million (Bt62 million) reward from the United States on his head.
The UWSA helped the Myanmar army defeat the MTA in 1997. But instead of returning to their stronghold along the Sino-Myanmar border, the UWSA stayed put and built new towns - with the help of Thai contractors.
The turning point for the Thai-UWSA relationship came one morning in February 1999 when authorities found nine Thai villagers from Chiang Mai's Fang district beaten to death, with their hands tied behind their backs.
Some authorities believed the gruesome murders were the result of a drug-deal gone wrong, while the locals insisted the victims were innocent villagers out on a hunting trip. In the final analysis, all fingers pointed to the newly built Mong Yawn, a southern stronghold of the UWSA, about 20 kilometres from the Thai northern border, inside Shan State.
Local media played up the stories, and the military and police came out in force blasting the UWSA. A curfew was imposed in a number of districts in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai, and Prime Minister Chuan Leekpai visited San Thon Doo checkpoint. Sealing off the border crossing that leads directly to the UWSA stronghold seemed a logical move.
For the Thai soldiers along the border, the new anti-UWSA policy meant their daily volleyball game with the Wa troops had to come to an end. For the Thai nationals who had business dealings with the Wa, the closure of the Son Thon Doo crossing meant alternative routes would have to be found. The call for a border checkpoint in nearby Baan San Maket in Chiang Rai was quickly shot down by the NSC, the very organisation that approved the opening of the Son Thon Doo crossing just a year ago in earlier 1998.
Thai businessmen turned to the Mae Sai-Tachilek border crossing in Chiang Rai to transport their goods to Mong Yawn, while a number of Thai workers began to use the Kok River to travel back and forth to their work sites. The final move came in August 1999 when the NSC declared the UWSA-controlled area off-limits and ordered all Thai nationals and construction companies to return home.
The UWSA desired an entrance into Thailand more than anything. The drug army wanted to befriend Thailand because it does not want to rely solely on China as its only window to the world. The Wa didn't trust Myanmar in spite of signing a cease-fire agreement with it in 1989. In other words, the Wa wanted to diversify their relationships. Pretty ambitious, indeed, for a drug army many of whom were head-hunters just a generation ago.
But the aftermath of the Fang massacre heightened the hostility between the two sides that would turned into a full blown battle. In March 2002 an advance unit was dispatched to Chiang Mai's Wiang Haeng district as part of routine security details to prepare for the visit of HM the Queen of Thailand, who was due to arrive later in the day.
But out of the blue, a Wa drug caravan slithering through Thai territory was intercepted by HM's security details. A firefight went on for four hours, ending with the death of a Thai soldier. Her Majesty was advised to remain in her palace in Chiang Mai.
For the Thai Army, the clash was not just another border skirmish with another Wa drug caravan. The fact that the Queen could not travel freely in her own kingdom was a deep affront to the soldiers. Again, all fingers pointed to the UWSA. It was generally agreed the pro-Myanmar outfit had to be taught a lesson.
Two months later in a pre-dawn raid in May 20, 2002, Thai infantry units and armoured personnel carriers (APCs) supported by light and heavy artillery launched an all-out offensive to take out positions manned by the UWSA.
The APCs, along with soldiers from Special Forces units, cavalry squadrons and artillery units, had been seen taking up positions along the northern border in Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and Mae Hong Son provinces in the past weeks to await instruction. It was supposed to be a military training exercise, the Surasri 143. Few had thought from the onset this field exercise would turn out to be one of the biggest military operations since the Vietnam War.
The battles took place well within Myanmar's territory and went on throughout the day. Artillery fire supported the advancing Thai soldiers carrying out search-and-destroy missions against the UWSA's drug labs and military outposts just kilometres inside the Myanmar border. At the Kiw Pha Wok border checkpoint in Chiang Mai's Chiang Dao district, hundreds of Thai villagers fled deeper inside the country and took refuge at a nearby Buddhist temple until it was safe to return to their villages in a day or two.
The following day, Yangon protested "in the strongest possible terms that the unprovoked attack violated our sovereignty and territorial integrity". Then Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was speechless but the Thai Army insisted Surasri 143 was just a military exercise.
The Myanmar Army held a press conference condemning the Thai military action and made reference to Thailand as "Ayothaya" - to remind the Thai nation of a past that Thailand didn't want to remember. Bilateral ties went into a tailspin and it would be some time before some form of normalcy returned to the border.
Talk of reopened border stirs bad memories for army
Don Pathan
The Nation
A mobile unit from the Foreign Ministry recently visited the northern border to check on a request from the business sector about opening up a couple of border passes linking Thailand with Myanmar's Shan State.
The argument is that the passes would help promote cross-border trade and boost the local economy. It was also reported that the Third Army Area was not exactly thrilled with the idea for fear it could boost drug traffic coming from the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle.
On the surface, the Third Army Area has reason for concern. A sizeable chunk of the Myanmar sector of the Golden Triangle is controlled by armed ethnic groups and warlords with either peace or cease-fire agreements with the government of Myanmar.
But given the fact that the Thai-Myanmar border is so porous, it wouldn't make sense to send drug caravans through the proposed checkpoints likely to be manned by security officials.
One of the crossings local businessmen would like to reopen is, of course, at San Thon Doo in Chiang Rai. It leads to Muang Yawn, one of the strongholds of the United Wa State Army (UWSA), a 30,000-strong outfit that produces some of the world's finest heroin. The Wa also floods the streets of Bangkok and other major cities around Southeast Asia with millions of methamphetamine tablets.
Perhaps the question to ask is: who would benefit the most from these proposed border crossings should the government give the green light for them to be reopened? In the mid-1990s, local businesses were using the same argument - about the need for more cross-border trade, and so on. They bypassed the Army and went straight to the National Security Council (NSC) who was authorised by local officials to set up a border crossing, but with a limited capacity. But that was all that was needed - just enough so they could transport their trucks, tractors, and other heavy machinery to help build towns in the UWSA-controlled areas.
All the while, Thai soldiers on the border were not at all comfortable with the idea that Thai citizens were having so many business dealings with the Wa, much less the fact that the outfit had set up three regiments along the common border. The Thai Army and the UWSA already had uneasy relations. Soldiers from both sides would play volleyball almost on a daily basis at the Sun Thon Doo crossing but kept their firearms within reach.
The three Wa regiments were in areas once occupied by the Mong Tai Army (MTA), an outfit under the control of the late Shan opium warlord Khun Sa. One of the regiments is today commanded by a notorious warlord, Wei Hsueh-kang, an ethnic Chinese with a US$2 million (Bt62 million) reward from the United States on his head.
The UWSA helped the Myanmar army defeat the MTA in 1997. But instead of returning to their stronghold along the Sino-Myanmar border, the UWSA stayed put and built new towns - with the help of Thai contractors.
The turning point for the Thai-UWSA relationship came one morning in February 1999 when authorities found nine Thai villagers from Chiang Mai's Fang district beaten to death, with their hands tied behind their backs.
Some authorities believed the gruesome murders were the result of a drug-deal gone wrong, while the locals insisted the victims were innocent villagers out on a hunting trip. In the final analysis, all fingers pointed to the newly built Mong Yawn, a southern stronghold of the UWSA, about 20 kilometres from the Thai northern border, inside Shan State.
Local media played up the stories, and the military and police came out in force blasting the UWSA. A curfew was imposed in a number of districts in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai, and Prime Minister Chuan Leekpai visited San Thon Doo checkpoint. Sealing off the border crossing that leads directly to the UWSA stronghold seemed a logical move.
For the Thai soldiers along the border, the new anti-UWSA policy meant their daily volleyball game with the Wa troops had to come to an end. For the Thai nationals who had business dealings with the Wa, the closure of the Son Thon Doo crossing meant alternative routes would have to be found. The call for a border checkpoint in nearby Baan San Maket in Chiang Rai was quickly shot down by the NSC, the very organisation that approved the opening of the Son Thon Doo crossing just a year ago in earlier 1998.
Thai businessmen turned to the Mae Sai-Tachilek border crossing in Chiang Rai to transport their goods to Mong Yawn, while a number of Thai workers began to use the Kok River to travel back and forth to their work sites. The final move came in August 1999 when the NSC declared the UWSA-controlled area off-limits and ordered all Thai nationals and construction companies to return home.
The UWSA desired an entrance into Thailand more than anything. The drug army wanted to befriend Thailand because it does not want to rely solely on China as its only window to the world. The Wa didn't trust Myanmar in spite of signing a cease-fire agreement with it in 1989. In other words, the Wa wanted to diversify their relationships. Pretty ambitious, indeed, for a drug army many of whom were head-hunters just a generation ago.
But the aftermath of the Fang massacre heightened the hostility between the two sides that would turned into a full blown battle. In March 2002 an advance unit was dispatched to Chiang Mai's Wiang Haeng district as part of routine security details to prepare for the visit of HM the Queen of Thailand, who was due to arrive later in the day.
But out of the blue, a Wa drug caravan slithering through Thai territory was intercepted by HM's security details. A firefight went on for four hours, ending with the death of a Thai soldier. Her Majesty was advised to remain in her palace in Chiang Mai.
For the Thai Army, the clash was not just another border skirmish with another Wa drug caravan. The fact that the Queen could not travel freely in her own kingdom was a deep affront to the soldiers. Again, all fingers pointed to the UWSA. It was generally agreed the pro-Myanmar outfit had to be taught a lesson.
Two months later in a pre-dawn raid in May 20, 2002, Thai infantry units and armoured personnel carriers (APCs) supported by light and heavy artillery launched an all-out offensive to take out positions manned by the UWSA.
The APCs, along with soldiers from Special Forces units, cavalry squadrons and artillery units, had been seen taking up positions along the northern border in Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and Mae Hong Son provinces in the past weeks to await instruction. It was supposed to be a military training exercise, the Surasri 143. Few had thought from the onset this field exercise would turn out to be one of the biggest military operations since the Vietnam War.
The battles took place well within Myanmar's territory and went on throughout the day. Artillery fire supported the advancing Thai soldiers carrying out search-and-destroy missions against the UWSA's drug labs and military outposts just kilometres inside the Myanmar border. At the Kiw Pha Wok border checkpoint in Chiang Mai's Chiang Dao district, hundreds of Thai villagers fled deeper inside the country and took refuge at a nearby Buddhist temple until it was safe to return to their villages in a day or two.
The following day, Yangon protested "in the strongest possible terms that the unprovoked attack violated our sovereignty and territorial integrity". Then Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was speechless but the Thai Army insisted Surasri 143 was just a military exercise.
The Myanmar Army held a press conference condemning the Thai military action and made reference to Thailand as "Ayothaya" - to remind the Thai nation of a past that Thailand didn't want to remember. Bilateral ties went into a tailspin and it would be some time before some form of normalcy returned to the border.
The Nation
A mobile unit from the Foreign Ministry recently visited the northern border to check on a request from the business sector about opening up a couple of border passes linking Thailand with Myanmar's Shan State.
The argument is that the passes would help promote cross-border trade and boost the local economy. It was also reported that the Third Army Area was not exactly thrilled with the idea for fear it could boost drug traffic coming from the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle.
On the surface, the Third Army Area has reason for concern. A sizeable chunk of the Myanmar sector of the Golden Triangle is controlled by armed ethnic groups and warlords with either peace or cease-fire agreements with the government of Myanmar.
But given the fact that the Thai-Myanmar border is so porous, it wouldn't make sense to send drug caravans through the proposed checkpoints likely to be manned by security officials.
One of the crossings local businessmen would like to reopen is, of course, at San Thon Doo in Chiang Rai. It leads to Muang Yawn, one of the strongholds of the United Wa State Army (UWSA), a 30,000-strong outfit that produces some of the world's finest heroin. The Wa also floods the streets of Bangkok and other major cities around Southeast Asia with millions of methamphetamine tablets.
Perhaps the question to ask is: who would benefit the most from these proposed border crossings should the government give the green light for them to be reopened? In the mid-1990s, local businesses were using the same argument - about the need for more cross-border trade, and so on. They bypassed the Army and went straight to the National Security Council (NSC) who was authorised by local officials to set up a border crossing, but with a limited capacity. But that was all that was needed - just enough so they could transport their trucks, tractors, and other heavy machinery to help build towns in the UWSA-controlled areas.
All the while, Thai soldiers on the border were not at all comfortable with the idea that Thai citizens were having so many business dealings with the Wa, much less the fact that the outfit had set up three regiments along the common border. The Thai Army and the UWSA already had uneasy relations. Soldiers from both sides would play volleyball almost on a daily basis at the Sun Thon Doo crossing but kept their firearms within reach.
The three Wa regiments were in areas once occupied by the Mong Tai Army (MTA), an outfit under the control of the late Shan opium warlord Khun Sa. One of the regiments is today commanded by a notorious warlord, Wei Hsueh-kang, an ethnic Chinese with a US$2 million (Bt62 million) reward from the United States on his head.
The UWSA helped the Myanmar army defeat the MTA in 1997. But instead of returning to their stronghold along the Sino-Myanmar border, the UWSA stayed put and built new towns - with the help of Thai contractors.
The turning point for the Thai-UWSA relationship came one morning in February 1999 when authorities found nine Thai villagers from Chiang Mai's Fang district beaten to death, with their hands tied behind their backs.
Some authorities believed the gruesome murders were the result of a drug-deal gone wrong, while the locals insisted the victims were innocent villagers out on a hunting trip. In the final analysis, all fingers pointed to the newly built Mong Yawn, a southern stronghold of the UWSA, about 20 kilometres from the Thai northern border, inside Shan State.
Local media played up the stories, and the military and police came out in force blasting the UWSA. A curfew was imposed in a number of districts in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai, and Prime Minister Chuan Leekpai visited San Thon Doo checkpoint. Sealing off the border crossing that leads directly to the UWSA stronghold seemed a logical move.
For the Thai soldiers along the border, the new anti-UWSA policy meant their daily volleyball game with the Wa troops had to come to an end. For the Thai nationals who had business dealings with the Wa, the closure of the Son Thon Doo crossing meant alternative routes would have to be found. The call for a border checkpoint in nearby Baan San Maket in Chiang Rai was quickly shot down by the NSC, the very organisation that approved the opening of the Son Thon Doo crossing just a year ago in earlier 1998.
Thai businessmen turned to the Mae Sai-Tachilek border crossing in Chiang Rai to transport their goods to Mong Yawn, while a number of Thai workers began to use the Kok River to travel back and forth to their work sites. The final move came in August 1999 when the NSC declared the UWSA-controlled area off-limits and ordered all Thai nationals and construction companies to return home.
The UWSA desired an entrance into Thailand more than anything. The drug army wanted to befriend Thailand because it does not want to rely solely on China as its only window to the world. The Wa didn't trust Myanmar in spite of signing a cease-fire agreement with it in 1989. In other words, the Wa wanted to diversify their relationships. Pretty ambitious, indeed, for a drug army many of whom were head-hunters just a generation ago.
But the aftermath of the Fang massacre heightened the hostility between the two sides that would turned into a full blown battle. In March 2002 an advance unit was dispatched to Chiang Mai's Wiang Haeng district as part of routine security details to prepare for the visit of HM the Queen of Thailand, who was due to arrive later in the day.
But out of the blue, a Wa drug caravan slithering through Thai territory was intercepted by HM's security details. A firefight went on for four hours, ending with the death of a Thai soldier. Her Majesty was advised to remain in her palace in Chiang Mai.
For the Thai Army, the clash was not just another border skirmish with another Wa drug caravan. The fact that the Queen could not travel freely in her own kingdom was a deep affront to the soldiers. Again, all fingers pointed to the UWSA. It was generally agreed the pro-Myanmar outfit had to be taught a lesson.
Two months later in a pre-dawn raid in May 20, 2002, Thai infantry units and armoured personnel carriers (APCs) supported by light and heavy artillery launched an all-out offensive to take out positions manned by the UWSA.
The APCs, along with soldiers from Special Forces units, cavalry squadrons and artillery units, had been seen taking up positions along the northern border in Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and Mae Hong Son provinces in the past weeks to await instruction. It was supposed to be a military training exercise, the Surasri 143. Few had thought from the onset this field exercise would turn out to be one of the biggest military operations since the Vietnam War.
The battles took place well within Myanmar's territory and went on throughout the day. Artillery fire supported the advancing Thai soldiers carrying out search-and-destroy missions against the UWSA's drug labs and military outposts just kilometres inside the Myanmar border. At the Kiw Pha Wok border checkpoint in Chiang Mai's Chiang Dao district, hundreds of Thai villagers fled deeper inside the country and took refuge at a nearby Buddhist temple until it was safe to return to their villages in a day or two.
The following day, Yangon protested "in the strongest possible terms that the unprovoked attack violated our sovereignty and territorial integrity". Then Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was speechless but the Thai Army insisted Surasri 143 was just a military exercise.
The Myanmar Army held a press conference condemning the Thai military action and made reference to Thailand as "Ayothaya" - to remind the Thai nation of a past that Thailand didn't want to remember. Bilateral ties went into a tailspin and it would be some time before some form of normalcy returned to the border.
Talk of reopened border stirs bad memories for army
Don Pathan
The Nation
A mobile unit from the Foreign Ministry recently visited the northern border to check on a request from the business sector about opening up a couple of border passes linking Thailand with Myanmar's Shan State.
The argument is that the passes would help promote cross-border trade and boost the local economy. It was also reported that the Third Army Area was not exactly thrilled with the idea for fear it could boost drug traffic coming from the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle.
 |
| Wa opium farmers on the outskirts of Panghsang (Pathan-2003) |
But given the fact that the Thai-Myanmar border is so porous, it wouldn’t make sense to send drug caravans through the proposed checkpoints likely to be manned by security officials.
One of the crossings local businessmen would like to reopen is, of course, at San Thon Doo in Chiang Rai. It leads to Muang Yawn, one of the strongholds of the United Wa State Army (UWSA), a 30,000-strong outfit that produces some of the world’s finest heroin. The Wa also floods the streets of Bangkok and other major cities around Southeast Asia with millions of methamphetamine tablets.
Perhaps the question to ask is: who would benefit the most from these proposed border crossings should the government give the green light for them to be reopened? In the mid-1990s, local businesses were using the same argument – about the need for more cross-border trade, and so on. They bypassed the Army and went straight to the National Security Council (NSC) who was authorised by local officials to set up a border crossing but with a limited capacity. But that was all that was needed – just enough so they could transport their trucks, tractors, and other heavy machinery to help build towns in the UWSA-controlled areas.
All the while, Thai soldiers on the border were not at all comfortable with the idea that Thai citizens were having so many business dealings with the Wa, much less the fact that the outfit had set up three regiments along the common border. The Thai Army and the UWSA already had uneasy relations. Soldiers from both sides would play volleyball almost on a daily basis at the Sun Thon Doo crossing but kept their firearms within reach.
The three Wa regiments were in areas once occupied by the Mong Tai Army (MTA), an outfit under the control of the late Shan opium warlord Khun Sa. One of the regiments is today commanded by a notorious warlord, Wei Hsueh-kang, an ethnic Chinese with a US$2 million (Bt62 million) reward from the United States on his head.
The UWSA helped the Myanmar army defeat the MTA in 1997. But instead of returning to their stronghold along the Sino-Myanmar border, the UWSA stayed put and built new towns – with the help of Thai contractors.
The turning point for the Thai-UWSA relationship came one morning in February 1999 when authorities found nine Thai villagers from Chiang Mai’s Fang district beaten to death, with their hands tied behind their backs.
Some authorities believed the gruesome murders were the result of a drug deal gone wrong, while the locals insisted the victims were innocent villagers out on a hunting trip. In the final analysis, all fingers pointed to the newly built Mong Yawn, a southern stronghold of the UWSA, about 20 kilometres from the Thai northern border, inside Shan State.
Local media played up the stories, and the military and police came out in force blasting the UWSA. A curfew was imposed in a number of districts in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai, and Prime Minister Chuan Leekpai visited San Thon Doo checkpoint. Sealing off the border crossing that leads directly to the UWSA stronghold seemed a logical move.
For the Thai soldiers along the border, the new anti-UWSA policy meant their daily volleyball game with the Wa troops had to come to an end. For the Thai nationals who had business dealings with the Wa, the closure of the Son Thon Doo crossing meant alternative routes would have to be found. The call for a border checkpoint in nearby Baan San Maket in Chiang Rai was quickly shot down by the NSC, the very organisation that approved the opening of the Son Thon Doo crossing just a year ago in earlier 1998.
Thai businessmen turned to the Mae Sai-Tachilek border crossing in Chiang Rai to transport their goods to Mong Yawn, while a number of Thai workers began to use the Kok River to travel back and forth to their work sites. The final move came in August 1999 when the NSC declared the UWSA-controlled area off-limits and ordered all Thai nationals and construction companies to return home.
The UWSA desired an entrance into Thailand more than anything. The drug army wanted to befriend Thailand because it does not want to rely solely on China as its only window to the world. The Wa didn’t trust Myanmar in spite of signing a cease-fire agreement with it in 1989. In other words, the Wa wanted to diversify their relationships. Pretty ambitious, indeed, for a drug army many of whom were head-hunters just a generation ago.
But the aftermath of the Fang massacre heightened the hostility between the two sides that would turned into a full blown battle. In March 2002 an advance unit was dispatched to Chiang Mai’s Wiang Haeng district as part of routine security details to prepare for the visit of HM the Queen of Thailand, who was due to arrive later in the day.
But out of the blue, a Wa drug caravan slithering through Thai territory was intercepted by HM’s security details. A firefight went on for four hours, ending with the death of a Thai soldier. Her Majesty was advised to remain in her palace in Chiang Mai.
For the Thai Army, the clash was not just another border skirmish with another Wa drug caravan. The fact that the Queen could not travel freely in her own kingdom was a deep affront to the soldiers. Again, all fingers pointed to the UWSA. It was generally agreed the pro-Myanmar outfit had to be taught a lesson.
Two months later in a pre-dawn raid in May 20, 2002, Thai infantry units and armoured personnel carriers (APCs) supported by light and heavy artillery launched an all-out offensive to take out positions manned by the UWSA.
The APCs, along with soldiers from Special Forces units, cavalry squadrons and artillery units, had been seen taking up positions along the northern border in Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and Mae Hong Son provinces in the past weeks to await instruction. It was supposed to be a military training exercise, the Surasri 143. Few had thought from the onset this field exercise would turn out to be one of the biggest military operations since the Vietnam War.
The battles took place well within Myanmar’s territory and went on throughout the day. Artillery fire supported the advancing Thai soldiers carrying out search-and-destroy missions against the UWSA’s drug labs and military outposts just kilometres inside the Myanmar border. At the Kiw Pha Wok border checkpoint in Chiang Mai’s Chiang Dao district, hundreds of Thai villagers fled deeper inside the country and took refuge at a nearby Buddhist temple until it was safe to return to their villages in a day or two.
The following day, Yangon protested “in the strongest possible terms that the unprovoked attack violated our sovereignty and territorial integrity”. Then Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was speechless but the Thai Army insisted Surasri 143 was just a military exercise.
The Myanmar Army held a press conference condemning the Thai military action and made reference to Thailand as “Ayothaya” – to remind the Thai nation of a past that Thailand didn’t want to remember. Bilateral ties went into a tailspin and it would be some time before some form of normalcy returned to the border.
Monday, 6 August 2012
Lights, camera, action!
The recent spike in violence in the South is spearheaded by a new crop of insurgents who often choose to attack in front of security cameras, striving for a bigger psychological impact.
Don Pathan
The Nation on Sunday
Pattani
It was like synchronised swimming. The two pickup trucks came from behind and neatly positioned themselves adjacent to each of the two motorbikes. Within a split second of coming neck-and-neck with the two motorbikes, the gunmen on the back of the pickups commenced fire, riddling four soldiers with bullets from close range.
Another pickup truck flanked the third motorbike and kept the two remaining soldiers at bay with sporadic gunfire. Outgunned and outnumbered, the soldiers stayed put and then retreated.
The timing and coordination of the Ma-Yor attack was dead on. But this was not Olympic sport. In fact, such incidents take place almost on a daily basis in the three southernmost border provinces of Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat where more than 5,000 have died in the violence.
It didn't take long for the footage to make its way to local television, YouTube and other media. The vividness of the Ma-Yor attack sent a big chill throughout the country and shook up security officials and policy-makers, who are now forced to explain the spike in violence despite claims of progress on the ground.
"The insurgents appeared to be more daring and bold, often choosing to attack in front of security cameras. They are looking to create a greater psychological impact with little regard to civilian casualties, said Human Rights Watch's Sunai Phasuk.
Leaders in the exiled community confirmed the analysis, saying the current crop of militants, locally referred to as juwae, or fighters in Patani Malay dialect, have stepped up their attacks in recent months as part of their ongoing strategy to make the area as ungovernable as possible.
As a sign of desperation, the government quickly appointed Deputy PM Chalerm Yoobamrung, a veteran but erratic politician, to take care of security matters in the deep South.
Angkhana Neelaphaijit, chairperson of the Justice for Peace Foundation, called the move a "knee-jerk" reaction. "I believe Prime Minister Yingluck needs to take direct charge of the situation in the South, instead of passing the buck to a politician who has a reputation of disrespecting other people's viewpoints."
Two days after the announcement, the insurgents launched an attack on CS Pattani Hotel, a place popular among foreigners and local VIPs visiting the deep South. And last Wednesday, a public school came under arson attack. The incident was a chilling reminder of 2007, when more than 100 public schools were burned down by insurgents.
Assistant Prof Srisompob Jitpiromsri, the director of Prince of Songkhla University-based Deep South Watch, believes the insurgents are drifting towards a higher level of information warfare. "It was as if they were performing for the camera, as if they wanted the authorities to see what they are capable of doing," said Srisompob, in reference to the Ma-Yor and other attacks.
"Insurgency and terrorism are essentially communicative actions. In the Ma-Yor operation, the insurgency scored big and managed to use the government's communication equipment to get their point across," Srisompob said.
If the insurgents in the deep South are looking to create greater psychological impact by their activities, then making the area ungovernable may no longer be enough for them.
For the time being, said Sunai, all agencies are hard-pressed to come up with a better explanation and analysis than the usual simplistic line that described the militants as drug-crazy youth who have embraced false Islamic teachings and are being taught a distorted version of Thailand's history. The spike in violence over the past eight months coincides with the government's effort to carry out secret talks with leaders of long-standing separatist groups in exile. They are hoping the old guard could talk sense to the new generation of militants. The talks led up to a secret meeting last March between fugitive Thaksin Shinawatra, the de facto leader of the current government, and about 16 Patani Malay separatist leaders.
Thaksin thought his presence would make a difference. But as it turned out, the meeting was boycotted by the Barisan Revolusi Nasional-Coordinate (BRN-C), the one group that has the best working relations with the new generation of militants currently operating on the ground.
Two weeks after the meeting, militants on the ground carried out triple bomb attacks on a short stretch of a busy street in downtown Yala, killing 10 and injuring more than 100 people. The same day also saw a car bomb going off at a basement parking lot in a downtown hotel in Hat Yai that killed three and injured more than 400.
Sunai called the March 31 attack a slap in the face for Thaksin and the so-called peace initiative of the government. With the secret peace move floundering and violence rising, all eyes are on Yingluck to see what steps she will take.
Don Pathan
The Nation on Sunday
Pattani
It was like synchronised swimming. The two pickup trucks came from behind and neatly positioned themselves adjacent to each of the two motorbikes. Within a split second of coming neck-and-neck with the two motorbikes, the gunmen on the back of the pickups commenced fire, riddling four soldiers with bullets from close range.
Another pickup truck flanked the third motorbike and kept the two remaining soldiers at bay with sporadic gunfire. Outgunned and outnumbered, the soldiers stayed put and then retreated.
The timing and coordination of the Ma-Yor attack was dead on. But this was not Olympic sport. In fact, such incidents take place almost on a daily basis in the three southernmost border provinces of Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat where more than 5,000 have died in the violence.
It didn't take long for the footage to make its way to local television, YouTube and other media. The vividness of the Ma-Yor attack sent a big chill throughout the country and shook up security officials and policy-makers, who are now forced to explain the spike in violence despite claims of progress on the ground.
"The insurgents appeared to be more daring and bold, often choosing to attack in front of security cameras. They are looking to create a greater psychological impact with little regard to civilian casualties, said Human Rights Watch's Sunai Phasuk.
Leaders in the exiled community confirmed the analysis, saying the current crop of militants, locally referred to as juwae, or fighters in Patani Malay dialect, have stepped up their attacks in recent months as part of their ongoing strategy to make the area as ungovernable as possible.
As a sign of desperation, the government quickly appointed Deputy PM Chalerm Yoobamrung, a veteran but erratic politician, to take care of security matters in the deep South.
Angkhana Neelaphaijit, chairperson of the Justice for Peace Foundation, called the move a "knee-jerk" reaction. "I believe Prime Minister Yingluck needs to take direct charge of the situation in the South, instead of passing the buck to a politician who has a reputation of disrespecting other people's viewpoints."
Two days after the announcement, the insurgents launched an attack on CS Pattani Hotel, a place popular among foreigners and local VIPs visiting the deep South. And last Wednesday, a public school came under arson attack. The incident was a chilling reminder of 2007, when more than 100 public schools were burned down by insurgents.
Assistant Prof Srisompob Jitpiromsri, the director of Prince of Songkhla University-based Deep South Watch, believes the insurgents are drifting towards a higher level of information warfare. "It was as if they were performing for the camera, as if they wanted the authorities to see what they are capable of doing," said Srisompob, in reference to the Ma-Yor and other attacks.
"Insurgency and terrorism are essentially communicative actions. In the Ma-Yor operation, the insurgency scored big and managed to use the government's communication equipment to get their point across," Srisompob said.
If the insurgents in the deep South are looking to create greater psychological impact by their activities, then making the area ungovernable may no longer be enough for them.
For the time being, said Sunai, all agencies are hard-pressed to come up with a better explanation and analysis than the usual simplistic line that described the militants as drug-crazy youth who have embraced false Islamic teachings and are being taught a distorted version of Thailand's history. The spike in violence over the past eight months coincides with the government's effort to carry out secret talks with leaders of long-standing separatist groups in exile. They are hoping the old guard could talk sense to the new generation of militants. The talks led up to a secret meeting last March between fugitive Thaksin Shinawatra, the de facto leader of the current government, and about 16 Patani Malay separatist leaders.
Thaksin thought his presence would make a difference. But as it turned out, the meeting was boycotted by the Barisan Revolusi Nasional-Coordinate (BRN-C), the one group that has the best working relations with the new generation of militants currently operating on the ground.
Two weeks after the meeting, militants on the ground carried out triple bomb attacks on a short stretch of a busy street in downtown Yala, killing 10 and injuring more than 100 people. The same day also saw a car bomb going off at a basement parking lot in a downtown hotel in Hat Yai that killed three and injured more than 400.
Sunai called the March 31 attack a slap in the face for Thaksin and the so-called peace initiative of the government. With the secret peace move floundering and violence rising, all eyes are on Yingluck to see what steps she will take.
Wednesday, 4 July 2012
The fight over the peace process prolongs conflict
Don Pathan
The Nation
The recent transfer of National Security Council (NSC) Deputy Secretary-General Somkiat Boonchoo to an inactive post in the Prime Minister's Office has raised a lot of eyebrows among those who closely observe the ongoing insurgency in Thailand's deep South.
After all, here was a man who had followed the conflict in the region with a high degree of consistency. Somkiat has been replaced by Lieutenant-General Paradon Pattanathaboot, who returns to a post he once held until he was removed by the previous government.
Technically, it is a swap. But in the Thai political context, if one's name card says you're an "advisor to the Prime Minister's Office", it can mean you were transferred to the post because you are considered deadwood. Or it could be that you are someone with high integrity, thus making you incompatible with the government of the day - especially an administration as insecure as this one. No one doubts Somkiat's integrity, however.
Somkiat has contributed to the recently announced NSC plan that includes recommendations for the government to consider establishing a "safe zone" where dialogue between the authorities and militant separatists could take place.
Besides pushing the idea of dialogue with the separatists into the public sphere, Somkiat's direct participation marked a significant shift that paved the way for more civilian agencies and non-Army personnel, as well as civil society representatives, to get involved in the secret "peace process".
From the late 1980s to the early 1990s, this job was exclusively reserved for Army personnel. That changed in late 2005 when the then NSC chief General Winai Pathiyakul, along with the then NSC's director Lieutenant-General Vaipot Srinual, took part in the now-defunct Langkawi Process, a peace initiative launched by former Malaysian prime minister Mahathir Mohammed.
This was during the time when Thaksin Shinwatra was the country's prime minister, although he didn't pay much attention to the recommendations from the process.
After the 2006 coup that ousted Thaksin, the NSC was given greater responsibility by the Surayud Chulanont government. In fact, Surayud had opened the door for other agencies and ministries to take part in the process, which included reaching out to neighbouring countries, professional mediators and the international community for help in this daunting task.
The secret peace process drifted off the radar screen during the two pro-Thaksin administrations of Samak Sundaravej and Somchai Wongsawat. It came back on the screen again during Abhisit Vejjajiva's tenure as prime minister.
But the NSC was not the only agency talking to the leaders of the long-standing separatist movement. Other agencies got in on the act as well. Everybody, it seemed, wanted to become a peace broker, but nobody wanted to work with anyone else.
When Yingluck Shinawatra came into power and appointed favourite bureaucrat, Police Colonel Thawee Sodsong as the new secretary-general of the Southern Border Provinces Administrative Centre (SBPAC), the task of talking to the enemy was given to him.
Somkiat saw the writing on the wall and understood full well what this meant for the NSC's secret initiative. But those who know him didn't think the Thaksin camp would go as far as removing him from his post at the NSC.
It is not clear what Paradon's job will be in the NSC, but political insiders believe his main duty is to ensure that the NSC strategy and future plan will be in line with the peace initiative of the Thaksin camp, spearheaded by Thawee.
In fact, Thawee was already acting as the head of Thailand's "peace delegation" almost immediately after this government came to power, and he moved to the SBPAC office about a year ago.
In the months leading up to March, Thawee was sending representatives abroad to meet with leaders of the long-standing separatist groups - the old guard - in the hope that they would convince the new generation of militants on the ground to end their campaign of violence.
These leaders claimed to have dialogue and working relations with the militants, locally referred to as juwae, but few observers and officials were convinced that the link was strong enough to constitute a shared command, or command-and-control in military language.
Moreover, Thawee thought that by bringing Thaksin into the picture, the separatist leaders would be convinced that the Thai side was sincere about its commitment. And so a secret meeting between Thaksin and a group of 17 separatist leaders was held in mid-March. Nothing major came out of it, as expected, as the encounter was more symbolic than anything else.
The interesting part was not so much which separatist groups showed up but which one didn't. Barisan Revolusi Nasional-Coordinate (BRN-C), the group with the best working relationship with the juwae, boycotted the meeting because it couldn't forgive Thaksin for his heavy-handed and abusive tactics when he was in power.
For the BRN-C to surface and come to the table at this point in time, there would have to be great demands and expectations - the kind of expectations and demands that neither side will be able to deliver.
According to BRN-C and other separatist sources, although the BRN-C may have the best working relationship with the juwae, this link does not constitute a shared command.
To add insult to the boycott, the juwae on March 31 carried out massive car-bomb attacks in Hat Yai and Yala. With more than a dozen killed and over 100 injured in the two incidents, the insurgent violence in Thailand's deep South reached a new threshold. It was a slap in the face for Thaksin and his cronies.
The Army and the opposition Democrat Party didn't waste time in ridiculing the government about Thaksin's participation in the secret talks, despite the fact that all parties have at one time or another talked to the representatives of the separatists.
Thaksin, of course, denied meeting the separatists. So much for the so-called commitment. As the government retreats to the drawing board, it has decided to ditch Somkiat, the one man who knows a great deal about the conflict in the region.
But Somkiat's absence doesn't mean Thawee's job will be easier. Somkiat would have been a good resource person for Thawee but the manner in which he was sidelined suggests that the Thaksin camp wants to have complete control of the process even though their effort so far has not produced any meaningful result.
Moreover, the Army's ridiculing the government for "talking to the enemy" should not be equated to an uncompromising stance because the Army, too, talks to the separatists. Essentially the spitting contest among these power cliques is all about having full control of the peace process.
One way out of this quagmire, according to several observers and insiders, is to have the government designate an agency that has full control over peace processes, similar to the one in the Philippines. With a full political mandate, the military and other agencies would have no choice but to get in line or miss the boat.
Wishful thinking perhaps. For the time being, the government's hopes are still pinned on Thawee, hoping that he can come up with something bold and creative. But where he goes from here is anybody's guess.
The Nation
The recent transfer of National Security Council (NSC) Deputy Secretary-General Somkiat Boonchoo to an inactive post in the Prime Minister's Office has raised a lot of eyebrows among those who closely observe the ongoing insurgency in Thailand's deep South.
After all, here was a man who had followed the conflict in the region with a high degree of consistency. Somkiat has been replaced by Lieutenant-General Paradon Pattanathaboot, who returns to a post he once held until he was removed by the previous government.
Technically, it is a swap. But in the Thai political context, if one's name card says you're an "advisor to the Prime Minister's Office", it can mean you were transferred to the post because you are considered deadwood. Or it could be that you are someone with high integrity, thus making you incompatible with the government of the day - especially an administration as insecure as this one. No one doubts Somkiat's integrity, however.
Somkiat has contributed to the recently announced NSC plan that includes recommendations for the government to consider establishing a "safe zone" where dialogue between the authorities and militant separatists could take place.
Besides pushing the idea of dialogue with the separatists into the public sphere, Somkiat's direct participation marked a significant shift that paved the way for more civilian agencies and non-Army personnel, as well as civil society representatives, to get involved in the secret "peace process".
From the late 1980s to the early 1990s, this job was exclusively reserved for Army personnel. That changed in late 2005 when the then NSC chief General Winai Pathiyakul, along with the then NSC's director Lieutenant-General Vaipot Srinual, took part in the now-defunct Langkawi Process, a peace initiative launched by former Malaysian prime minister Mahathir Mohammed.
This was during the time when Thaksin Shinwatra was the country's prime minister, although he didn't pay much attention to the recommendations from the process.
After the 2006 coup that ousted Thaksin, the NSC was given greater responsibility by the Surayud Chulanont government. In fact, Surayud had opened the door for other agencies and ministries to take part in the process, which included reaching out to neighbouring countries, professional mediators and the international community for help in this daunting task.
The secret peace process drifted off the radar screen during the two pro-Thaksin administrations of Samak Sundaravej and Somchai Wongsawat. It came back on the screen again during Abhisit Vejjajiva's tenure as prime minister.
But the NSC was not the only agency talking to the leaders of the long-standing separatist movement. Other agencies got in on the act as well. Everybody, it seemed, wanted to become a peace broker, but nobody wanted to work with anyone else.
When Yingluck Shinawatra came into power and appointed favourite bureaucrat, Police Colonel Thawee Sodsong as the new secretary-general of the Southern Border Provinces Administrative Centre (SBPAC), the task of talking to the enemy was given to him.
Somkiat saw the writing on the wall and understood full well what this meant for the NSC's secret initiative. But those who know him didn't think the Thaksin camp would go as far as removing him from his post at the NSC.
It is not clear what Paradon's job will be in the NSC, but political insiders believe his main duty is to ensure that the NSC strategy and future plan will be in line with the peace initiative of the Thaksin camp, spearheaded by Thawee.
In fact, Thawee was already acting as the head of Thailand's "peace delegation" almost immediately after this government came to power, and he moved to the SBPAC office about a year ago.
In the months leading up to March, Thawee was sending representatives abroad to meet with leaders of the long-standing separatist groups - the old guard - in the hope that they would convince the new generation of militants on the ground to end their campaign of violence.
These leaders claimed to have dialogue and working relations with the militants, locally referred to as juwae, but few observers and officials were convinced that the link was strong enough to constitute a shared command, or command-and-control in military language.
Moreover, Thawee thought that by bringing Thaksin into the picture, the separatist leaders would be convinced that the Thai side was sincere about its commitment. And so a secret meeting between Thaksin and a group of 17 separatist leaders was held in mid-March. Nothing major came out of it, as expected, as the encounter was more symbolic than anything else.
The interesting part was not so much which separatist groups showed up but which one didn't. Barisan Revolusi Nasional-Coordinate (BRN-C), the group with the best working relationship with the juwae, boycotted the meeting because it couldn't forgive Thaksin for his heavy-handed and abusive tactics when he was in power.
For the BRN-C to surface and come to the table at this point in time, there would have to be great demands and expectations - the kind of expectations and demands that neither side will be able to deliver.
According to BRN-C and other separatist sources, although the BRN-C may have the best working relationship with the juwae, this link does not constitute a shared command.
To add insult to the boycott, the juwae on March 31 carried out massive car-bomb attacks in Hat Yai and Yala. With more than a dozen killed and over 100 injured in the two incidents, the insurgent violence in Thailand's deep South reached a new threshold. It was a slap in the face for Thaksin and his cronies.
The Army and the opposition Democrat Party didn't waste time in ridiculing the government about Thaksin's participation in the secret talks, despite the fact that all parties have at one time or another talked to the representatives of the separatists.
Thaksin, of course, denied meeting the separatists. So much for the so-called commitment. As the government retreats to the drawing board, it has decided to ditch Somkiat, the one man who knows a great deal about the conflict in the region.
But Somkiat's absence doesn't mean Thawee's job will be easier. Somkiat would have been a good resource person for Thawee but the manner in which he was sidelined suggests that the Thaksin camp wants to have complete control of the process even though their effort so far has not produced any meaningful result.
Moreover, the Army's ridiculing the government for "talking to the enemy" should not be equated to an uncompromising stance because the Army, too, talks to the separatists. Essentially the spitting contest among these power cliques is all about having full control of the peace process.
One way out of this quagmire, according to several observers and insiders, is to have the government designate an agency that has full control over peace processes, similar to the one in the Philippines. With a full political mandate, the military and other agencies would have no choice but to get in line or miss the boat.
Wishful thinking perhaps. For the time being, the government's hopes are still pinned on Thawee, hoping that he can come up with something bold and creative. But where he goes from here is anybody's guess.
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