Shinawatra’s End

Thai PM Paetongtarn Shinawatra (Credit: Facebook posting)

Leaked Phone Call

Thailand’s Shinawatra political dynasty faces its gravest crisis yet as Prime Minister Paetongtarn finds herself trapped in a political firestorm that threatens to end her family’s decade-long dominance in Thai politics.

At 38, the inexperienced leader has become the centre of a scandal that exposes not only her political naivety but also the fragile foundations upon which her administration rests.

The crisis erupted when a private phone conversation between Paetongtarn and Cambodian strongman Hun Sen was leaked on social media platforms. In the recording, the Thai prime minister referred to her own military commanders as “opponents” and dismissed the Thai regional commander responsible for northeastern security as someone who “just wanted to look tough”.

She also addressed Hun Sen as “uncle”, a term of endearment that reflects the long-standing friendship between the Shinawatra and Hun families.

What Paetongtarn characterised as a “negotiation tactic” has been condemned by critics as a betrayal of national security and dignity. The leaked conversation has triggered mass protests demanding her resignation and thrown her government into chaos, threatening the fragile coalition that brought her Pheu Thai Party to power.

The phone call centred on resolving escalating tensions along the Thai-Cambodian border, specifically around the disputed Emerald Triangle where Thailand, Cambodia and Laos converge.

The standoff intensified after several provocative incidents: 1) a Thai-built friendship pavilion was burnt down in March 2025; 2) Cambodian forces dug trenches that Thai officials claimed extended 200 metres into the Thai territory and; 3) the shooting incident on 28 May 2025 that resulted in the death of a Cambodian soldier, with both sides claiming self-defence.

Despite an agreement reached on 8 June 2025 between border task force commanders to withdraw troops and fill the disputed trenches, implementation stalled. Thailand failed to restore normal operating hours at border checkpoints as promised, prompting Cambodia to reduce its own checkpoint hours in retaliation. The tit-for-tat escalation continued, creating the volatile atmosphere that led to the fateful phone conversation.

Outstanding Dispute

Thai-Cambodian border disputes have been a recurring feature of the bilateral relations since the colonial period, with boundaries drawn by French colonial powers through gunboat diplomacy. The two nations have long used these territorial disagreements as convenient sources of nationalist sentiment when domestic political legitimacy wanes.

The irony is particularly sharp given that both countries share cultural traditions – including martial arts known as Muay Thai in Thailand and Kun Khmer in Cambodia – practised throughout the Theravada Buddhist region.

As French orientalist Ernest Renan observed, nation-building requires people to forget certain things while remembering others. The problem for Thailand and Cambodia is their selective memory focuses on grievances rather than shared heritage.

The 1962 International Court of Justice (ICJ) ruling awarding the Preah Vihear temple to Cambodia continues to rankle Thai nationalists, while discussions of joint maritime resource exploration in the Gulf of Thailand sparked fears about compromising Thai sovereignty over Koh Kood Island. Historical mistrust consistently undermines cooperation efforts between the two nations.

Power Struggle

The leaked call exposed deep rifts between Paetongtarn’s civilian government and the Royal Thai Army. Military leaders withheld information about the Cambodian trenches from the foreign affairs and defence ministries, releasing details to the media only after the 8 June 2025 shooting incident. This breach of the standard operating procedure, which typically requires diplomatic channels to be informed first, suggests a deliberate attempt by the military to achieve political gain.

The army appears to have emerged as the primary beneficiary of this crisis. They avoided scrutiny over their information handling, secured budget allocations from the parliament and positioned themselves as patriotic defenders of national sovereignty.

Even the opposition People’s Party, typically critical of military overreach, has remained notably silent, unwilling to risk being labelled unpatriotic.

The tit-for-tat continued with both refusing to discuss the overlapping dispute bilaterally and making a formal request to the International Court of Justice (ICJ) to resolve the territorial disputes around the Emerald Triangle. On 23 May 2025, for example, Paetongtarn – speaking to the media following a meeting on transnational crime with all of the government’s security bigwigs – called on the international community to join Thailand in cracking down on Cambodia-based scam centres.

Cambodia’s suggestions that the border dispute with Thailand around the Emerald Triangle be brought to the ICJ irked Thailand badly, as it placed Cambodia on a legal and moral high ground. In reality, however, both sides undermined their own narrative of peace as they continuously beat the war drums and spin things unabashedly to round up domestic support.

Two Intertwined Families

For years, Thaksin and Hun Sen were courting each other. When Thaksin’s camp was in trouble, Hun Sen extended hospitality to Thaksin’s supporters fleeing arrest after the 2006 coup that ousted him from power.

Their children, Paetongtarn and Manet, also enjoyed cordial relations. Their governments went as far as reviving a two-decade-old MoU on overlapping maritime claims in the Gulf of Thailand and talked about profit sharing from the exploration of natural resources in the overlapping area.

Today, like Thaksin, Hun Sen is experiencing difficulties in making sure that Prime Minister Hun Manet governs the country without much obstacles and that his family continues to reign over Cambodia for the unforeseeable future. Hun Sen stepped down as the prime minister in August 2023 after four decades of rule, leaving Manet a big shoe to fill.

But unlike Thailand, where a critical press and a rowdy public constantly give Paetongtarn, or any government of the day, a big headache, Cambodia has no such outlets or adequate institutions for its people to express their grievances.

The Cambodian Parliament of 125 MPs has only five lawmakers in the “opposition” bench, and Hun Sen’s children run the country’s media outlets, including the online ones. Speaking out against the family has its consequences.

For Hun Sen, the decision to leak the conversation represents a calculated political maneuver designed to elevate his son, Manet, as a national hero. The ex-leader sought Thailand’s acceptance of Cambodia’s territorial claims over the Emerald Triangle, believing this diplomatic victory would strengthen his son’s position during a challenging transition period.

When it became clear that Thaksin and Paetongtarn would not sacrifice their political survival for Manet’s political ambitions, Hun Sen decided to burn bridges with his long-time allies. The leak served his domestic political needs while demonstrating his assessment that Thaksin’s political usefulness had expired.

Manet – a West Point graduate once described by an American military officer as possessing high integrity – now finds himself defending his father’s social media diplomacy tactics, claiming such methods are common in modern governance. However, few precedents exist for using leaked private conversations.

This crisis strikes at a particularly vulnerable moment for the Shinawatra family. Thaksin returned from exile in August 2023 believing his legal troubles were resolved, only to face continued challenges, including unresolved lese majeste charges and accusations of feigning illness to avoid jail. 

His sister Yingluck, still in exile following the 2014 coup, was ordered in May 2025 to pay THB10 bn in compensation for losses from her administration’s rice-pledging scheme. Her inability to return safely to Thailand represents the family’s unfinished business.

Why is She the Prime Minister?

The Pheu Thai Party’s decision to install Paetongtarn as prime minister – following Srettha Thavisin’s removal – was driven more by loyalty to Thaksin than confidence in her capabilities. Party members acknowledged privately that she lacked the experience for the role, but her appointment made the facilitation of continued deference to her father that much easier.

Moreover, it was not clear why Paetongtarn was not coached by those veteran politicians that she surrounded herself with. Perhaps they were so occupied with the big picture that they forgot that the devil is always in the details. Perhaps they took comfort in the belief that Hun Sen and Thaksin are old friends and assumed that friends do not stab each other in the back.

Of all the people, they should know that nothing lasts forever in Thailand and Cambodia’s cut-throat politics. Perhaps the cross-border aspect of it threw them off.

But the writing was always on the wall. Party members knew full well that Paetongtarn was not cut out for the job, but they insisted that her name be put forth to the parliament to replace Srettha Thavisin, who was removed by the Constitutional Court in August 2024.

The leaked conversation provided a convenient pretext for coalition partners already seeking an exit. Bhumjaithai Party, the coalition’s second-largest member, was about to be kicked out of the coalition due to disputes over cabinet seat allocation. The border controversy gave them a face-saving opportunity to withdraw while claiming to defend national honour.

This defection threatens the stability of Paetongtarn’s government and raises questions about the viability of the Faustian bargain that Thaksin and Pheu Thai struck with conservative political elites to form the current coalition and to exclude the reform-minded Move Forward Party from power.

That arrangement, built on expedience rather than shared vision, was always destined to be temporary.

The Dynasty in Crisis

The current crisis may indeed mark the beginning of the end for the Shinawatra dynasty in Thai politics. Paetongtarn’s inexperience, combined with her father’s diminished influence and mounting legal challenges, has left the family politically isolated and vulnerable.

Sources in the Thai army suggest they could work with the opposition People’s Party, indicating that cooperation with the Thaksin camp has become untenable. However, how the so-called Orange Shirts (People’s Party supporters) and the military could coexist remains unclear, and many observers caution against counting Thaksin out entirely, given his history of political comebacks.

The tragedy of this crisis lies not only in its immediate political casualties but also in its demonstration of how quickly personal relationships and private conversations can escalate into matters of national security and international relations. For a political dynasty built on populist appeal, this episode exposes fundamental weaknesses that may prove insurmountable. As Thailand navigates this political turbulence, the broader question remains whether the country’s democratic institutions can emerge stronger from this crisis or whether it will deepen the cycle of instability that has plagued Thai politics for decades. The answer may well determine not just the fate of the Shinawatra family but the trajectory of Thai democracy itself.

Don Pathan is a security analyst focusing on conflict in Myanmar/Burma and insurgency in Thailand's far south.

The views expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of STRAT.O.SPHERE CONSULTING PTE LTD.

Beacon for peace in far South is extinguished

The condolences from Premier Prayut Chan-o-cha over Sapae-ing Basor’s death carry tragic echoes of missed opportunities

Don Pathan
YALA, Thailand

Just a decade ago, in 2006, when Interior Ministry Permanent Secretary Grisada Boonrach was assigned vice governor of Yala, he would stop by and check on security officers manning the checkpoints in and around his restive province.

One late afternoon he came across a young man, a Muslim, who appeared to be slightly intoxicated.

“Are you Malayu [ethnic Malay]?” Grisada asked, to which the young man replied, “yes” without hesitation.

“Then why are you drunk?” barked Grisada.

The young man snapped back, asking the then-vice governor, “Who are you, Sapae-ing Basor?”

Grisada would learn soon learn more about the moral authority of one of Thailand’s most-wanted men, who at one time had a Bt10 million police bounty on his head.

Sapae-ing was perceived by many as the spiritual leader of Muslims in this Malay-speaking region. He was accused by the Thai police of being the leader of the Barisan Revolusi Nasional (BRN), a longstanding separatist movement that surfaced in the early 1960s and today commands well over 90 per cent of insurgents operating in the South.

About 2,500 local residents and students gather at the Thamvithya Mulnithi School on Monday, Jan 16, 2017, to bid farewell to former principal Sapae-ing Basor, the spiritual leader for the Malay Muslims in the region accused by the Thai police of being a separatist leader. Photo by: IBROHEM MASOH

Sapae-ing fled his Yala home in December 2004 to escape arrest. Then-Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, in one of his weekly radio address, claimed Sapae-ing was poised to become overall leader of a liberated Patani.

Thaksin accused this Thamvithya School principal of leading an army bent on carving out a separate homeland for the Malay Muslims in the southernmost provinces, a region historically known as Patani.

The arrest warrant for Sapae-ing was signed off by Thaksin’s point-man for the far South, Police Colonel Thawee Sodsong, on December 14, 2004. A decade later, Thawee would become the key figure in a peace initiative launched by the Yingluck government on February 28, 2013, during which another concerted effort was made to reach out to Sapae-ing for help.

Last week, upon learning news about Sapae-ing’s death, Thawee showed up in Pattani’s Yarang district to personally express condolences to the late principal’s family.

Senior government officials who examined the warrant said the evidence against Sapae-ing was extremely flimsy and suspected it was motivated by Thaksin and his cronies’ agenda. They saw him as an easy target to get at the movement because students from his school had joined the insurgent movement.

It would be some time before the government in Bangkok realised that they weren’t just fighting young men with guns. They were up against an entirely different cultural and historical narrative that was breeding a new wave of separatist militants bent on forging a separate homeland.

Thai security planners eventually learned about Sapae-ing’s integrity, together with his strong religious credentials, and sought his help to end the conflict. Through him, they saw an opportunity to communicate with the Malays of Patani. But Bangkok was never clear as to what message it wanted to send or what kind of compromises it was willing to make with the Malays.

It took the Thais some time to realise that they weren’t fighting against “sparrow bandits” – young men who had embraced distorted Islam and history – as Thaksin and many Thai officials would describe them. They were actually battling a competing history and a narrative that Sapae-ing exemplified.

Attempts to get this spiritual leader to the negotiating table were fruitless because, according to people who knew him, Sapae-ing didn’t see the conflict as being about him but about the people of Patani. Furthermore, he sensed the Thais were unwilling to make any concessions to his people and had failed to understand the root causes and grievances of the people in this region.

It was said he could have cut a deal for himself but he chose not to do so. Too much was riding on his shoulder and he wasn’t about to sell out, said exiled separatist leaders.

Artef Sohko, a youth activist and graduate of Thamvithya, said there was no leader in the Patani region who could match the level of respect and admiration that Sapae-ing commanded.

“There was nothing beneath him. He practices what he preaches. That kind of moral authority is hard to find nowadays,” said Artef, recalling how Sapae-ing would often tour the school grounds picking up trash to set a good example for students.

The historical Patani sultanate, once known for its ports and commerce and business dealings with Western merchants, has been subsumed into four provinces of Thailand. Most Thais do not care to learn about this region’s glorious past, preferring to swallow a state-constructed narrative that encompasses the Malays but fails to recognise their difference.

But the mystique continues to shape the cultural and historical narrative for the people of this region and the end result is a series of separatist movements.

Sapae-ing was very much a part of that narrative – an example of how the state fails to people who embrace a different narrative and cultural identity with respect and understanding.

Those who knew Sapae-ing said he was the most selfless person they ever encountered. They said he always placed the needs and dignity of his community before his own, and that’s why he refused to deal with the Thais during his years in exile.

His students loved him dearly. Many even considered a whooping from him a blessing that helped set them on the right path in life. Parents adored his strict discipline as a protection against their young ones being led astray by rapid social change which is compromising the longstanding traditional values of this conservative community.

According teachers at Thamvithya School, Sapae-ing liked to patrol beer joints and hangouts after school to see if any of his students were there. Any that he caught could be sure of swift and painful justice.

Even after he disappeared from public sight, locals continued to talk about him. The mystique surrounding this righteous man of religion never seemed to fade. Some of those who observed his role in the regional conflict referred to Sapae-ing as “Yoda”, the wise and powerful Jedi master from George Lucas’ “Star Wars”.

Some young militants even believed he was blessed with the power of invisibility or omniscience. They spoke as if he had never left them. As far as many of them were concerned, he never did; he was always in their hearts and minds.

But after he was demonised and dismissed by Thaksin and his ilk as a power-hungry individual eager to be ruler of a liberated Patani, it was hard for any political or security official to take a softer or more subtle line. Pressure to end the conflict was too high and the Thai leaders couldn’t afford to look weak.

But when news about Sapae-ing’s death reached Bangkok, Prime Minister General Prayut Chan-o-cha promptly expressed condolences to his family. A gesture of goodwill is never too late, it seems.

“It could be that he [Prayut] wanted to make the Thais, the state and the government look less guilty because they were the ones who forced him to go out [into exile],” said Nualnoi Thammasathein, a veteran documentary producer and former London-based BBC reporter, who has done much work on the far-South conflict.

“They [the Thai government] look vulnerable, not sensible. I doubt that he [Prayut] did it for the family, but rather for himself and his government – maybe even to lift himself a little bit higher in the eyes of the Malays,” she added.

Prayut even instructed the Army to help his family transport Sapae-ing’s body back to Yala from Malaysia’s Terengganu state. Similar treatment was extended to the family of Romli Uttarasin, considered a founding father of the BRN, when he died in Malaysia in February 2010.

Thai security officials, on the other hand, said resolving the conflicts in this region will be harder without Sapae-ing, who could have played a crucial role in implementing any deal between the Thai state and the Malays of Patani.

Sources in the BRN said Sapae-ing would be greatly missed but their fight against the Thai security forces would continue until they achieved their aims. Independence remains one of those aims, but sources add that they were willing to negotiate with the Thais if the conditions are right. This means foreign governments observing the talk to ensure international best practice governs negotiations.

Bangkok will likely give the BRN the cold shoulder, demanding that the group join up with the separatist umbrella organisation MARA Patani for the ongoing peace initiative with the Thai government.

The Nation

Don Pathan is a Thailand-based security consultant and a member of Patani Forum (www.pataniforum.com), a civil society organisation dedicated to critical discussion on the conflict in the far South.

Did Thaksin meet insurgents?

Don Pathan
The Nation

Alleged sightings of fugitive former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra meeting quietly with Muslim insurgent chieftains just before the bloody bombings in Songkhla and Yala have kicked up a major political storm.

The ruling Pheu Thai Party and the man himself have vehemently denied any such rendezvous. Several sources, including some from the insurgency side, have contradicted that, however.

The Nation has learned some details of the "meeting", in which Thaksin supposedly stopped short of apologising but expressed regret for some of the violent incidents carried out by authorities during his administration.

The sources said he told the group of 15 exiled leaders from long-standing Malay Muslim separatist groups that his harsh tactics in the deep South were partly the result of his being "misinformed" by authorities.

Thaksin urged all sides to let bygones be bygones and work together to bring peace back to the restless region.

He gave each exiled leader a hug before leaving, according to the sources, who spoke on condition of anonymity.

Thaksin was not accompanied by any Thai government official to the meeting in the middle of last month, about two weeks before the bomb attacks in Yala and Hat Yai, that was facilitated by a Malaysian government agency.

"I thought he [Thaksin] was sincere with his gesture," said one exiled separatist who was at the meeting. "But this conflict is beyond the control of one man."

Refusing to take part in the secret meeting were the elders of the Barisan Revolusi Nasional-Coordinate (BRN-C), whose cadre told The Nation that they "could never forgive Thaksin for what he has done to the Malays of Patani" when he was premier.

They pointed to the Tak Bai massacre and other incidents in which he refused to punish abusive authorities.

This source said it didn't matter whether Thaksin's overtures were sincere or not because the so-called exiled leaders whom Thaksin met had no real influence on the militants in the field.

The BRN-Coordinate's refusal to deal with the Thaksin camp does not mean that the group has ruled out the idea of talking or negotiating with the Thai state.

There are other entities in the Kingdom that they are willing to talk to but only if the "situation" is right, the source said.

The BRN-C member said his outfit has the best working relationship with the Juwae, or armed militants currently operating on the ground, but the relationship is too fluid to establish a shared command.

Juwae are organised into semi-independent cells that span the three southernmost provinces of Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat and the four Malay-speaking districts in Songkhla.

Juwae and the BRN-Coordinate are working towards establishing a shared command.

Unless the BRN-C and the Juwae can consolidate into one entity, with the BRN leaders forming the political wing and juwae the military wing of the movement, it would be difficult to move forward with any negotiations or peace talks with the Thai side, the source said.

According to exiled leaders, there isn't much unity among the so-called Patani Malay separatist groups, many of whom surfaced in the late 1960s to take up arms against the Thai state.

The Patani United Liberation Organisation (Pulo), for example, has three persons claiming to be the president of the group.

Similarly, the identities of the members of the BRN-Coordinate remain heavily guarded. Like Pulo, the BRN-Coordinate has many self-professed leaders.

In the view of one BRN-Coordinate cadre from the faction that boycotted the Thaksin meeting, the recent attack in Yala that killed at least 11 people and wounded more than 100 was the juwae's way of turning down Thaksin's offer of an olive branch.

Hat Yai was hit on the same day as Yala but Hat Yai was not on the separatist movement's agenda, the source said.

The car bombing of the Lee Gardens Plaza Hotel in Hat Yai was probably part of a turf war between influential figures with an axe to grind with authorities, the source said.

Juwae selling their skills to crime syndicates is not uncommon, he said.

The Lee Gardens Plaza hotel and shopping complex was also targeted in September 2006 when one of the six motorcycle bombs that rocked the city exploded right in front of it.

A Life of its Own

Don Pathan
The Daily Star

Shan State Army outpost on the Thailand-Myanmar border. 

Eight years ago, then-prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra came into power and vowed to patch things up with Myanmar's military government, one of the world's most condemned regimes. He tried hard to convince Rangoon of his sincerity, even if it meant going against international sentiment, not to mention the Army, which he accused of "over-reacting" in its dealings with a cross-border clash with Myanmarese forces.

Thaksin, in line with his shoot-from-the-hip nature, said Thailand's armed forces would end their tacit policy of using Myanmarese insurgent groups as buffers. In the same breath, the PM also said aid organisations tending more than 100,000 refugees displaced by fighting in Myanmar would have to scale down their operations. He said they were interfering with his efforts to normalise ties with the junta.

Thaksin believed that his brand of "personal diplomacy," backed with promises of development and economic cooperation, would be sufficient to pave the way for a bigger and better future with the junta. While all that sweet talk about development and assistance was expected, what caught many Myanmar-watchers' attention was the word "buffer."

Apparently loose-lipped Thaksin didn't know that the insurgency along the Thai-Myanmar border had a life of its own. How Thailand positions itself to Myanmar's insurgency is also a factor that defines this relationship.

In 2003, the foreign minister, Surakiart Sathirathai, tried to push through the "Bangkok Process", a multinational forum to steer Myanmar towards reform. He succeeded in getting the late Karen leader, General Bo Mya, and his son, Ner Dah, to visit Rangoon and map out a blueprint for peace talks, but nothing came of it.

Surakiart's "road map" was essentially jinxed from the very beginning because the junta did not see Thailand as an honest broker, for obvious reasons. A tactical retreat was made possible when Myanmarese Prime Minister Khin Nyunt announced in August 2003 that the junta's seven-step reconciliation plan would include a constitutional drafting assembly and general elections by 2010.

One of the unwritten laws along the Thai-Myanmar border is that if a rebel army is pro-Rangoon, it can be considered a threat to Thai security. The 20,000-strong United Wa State Army automatically comes to mind. Likewise, if the outfit is fighting Rangoon for autonomy or secession, then it is friendly to Thailand. Groups like the Karen National Union, Shan State Army, and Karenni National Progressive Party fall into this category. This law is likely to prevail until security concerns take a back seat to bilateral cooperation. The question is what must be done for both sides to achieve the needed comfort level.

The Thaksin government tried to influence change in Myanmar by keeping the West at bay, but failed. This time around, the Democrat Party, with a track record of being critical of the junta, is suggesting that there is a need to think outside the box. During his recent visit, Foreign Minister Kasit Piromya brought up the issue of these so-called proxies along the border. He was asked by the junta to urge the ethnic rebel armies along the border to join Myanmar's seven-step national-reconciliation plan, a process that has been billed a sham by critics.

However, it is not clear what Kasit will do next about this request, which, from a historical perspective, may be way over his head. A bit of wishful thinking, perhaps, if Thailand thinks it can "mediate" peace talks between the rebels and the junta. Facilitation, on the other hand, is more plausible.

From a bird's-eye view, the Thailand-Myanmar border is characterised by its cut-throat politics where rebel leaders, opium warlords, the Thai Army, and Myanmarese generals play for keeps. As long as anyone can remember, armed ethnic groups have always functioned as a buffer between the two nagging neighbours. At the behest of the Thai or Myanmarese military, these ethnic armies do all the dirty work, keeping the hands of their respective overlords clean.

Most of these groups have entered into ceasefire agreements with the Myanmarese junta in exchange for limited self-rule in so-called "special regions" where they grow opium and churn out methamphetamines. Others have chosen legitimate businesses, granting Thai and Chinese businessmen logging and mining concessions along the border.

Myanmar doesn't mind if these warlords fatten their wallets with the concession money as long as they remain in the junta's "legal fold" and do not pose any security threats. Over the past two years, Myanmar has tried hard to get these groups to hand over their weapons, but success has been very limited.

On the surface, there haven't been any outbursts along the border between the two sides for a fair while now. But military officers on the frontline warn against reaching any premature conclusions. The absence of confrontation does not necessarily mean peace, they say. Mistrust still runs high. It is just that the two sides haven't picked up their guns to display it.

This article was first published in The Nation, Thailand.

The Thai-Burmese border has a life of its own

MARCH 28, 2009

DON PATHAN
THE NATION

EIGHT YEARS ago, then-prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra came into power and vowed to patch things up with Burma’s military government, one of the world’s most condemned regimes.

He tried hard to convince Rangoon of his sincerity even if it meant going against international sentiment, not to mention the Army, which he accused of “over-reacting” in its dealing with a cross-border clash with Burmese forces.

Thaksin, in line with his shoot-from-the-hip nature, said Thailand’s armed forces would end their tacit policy of using Burmese insurgent groups as buffers.

In the same breath, the PM also said aid organisations tending more than 100,000 refugees displaced by fighting in Burma would have to scale down their operations. He said they were interfering with his efforts to normalise ties with the junta.

Thaksin believed that his brand of “personal diplomacy”, backed with promises of development and economic cooperation, would be sufficient to pave the way for a bigger and better future with the junta. And while all that sweet talk about development and assistance was expected, what caught many Burma-watchers’ attention was the word “buffer”.

Apparently loose-lipped Thaksin didn’t know that the insurgency along the Thai-Burmese had a life of its own. How Thailand positions itself in relation to Burma’s insurgency is also a factor that defines this relation.

In 2003, the foreign minister, Surakiart Sathirathai, tried to push through the “Bangkok Process”, a multinational forum to steer Burma towards reform. He succeeded in getting the late Karen leader General Bo Mya and his son Ner Dah to visit Rangoon and map out a blueprint for peace talks, but nothing came of it.

Surakiart’s “road map” was essentially jinxed from the very beginning because the junta did not see Thailand as an honest broker, for obvious reasons.

A tactical retreat was made possible when Burmese prime minister Khin Nyunt announced in August 2003 that the junta’s seven-step reconciliation plan would include a constitutional drafting assembly and general elections by 2010.

One of the unwritten laws along the Thai-Burmese border is that if a rebel army is pro-Rangoon, it can be considered a threat to Thai security. The 20,000-strong United Wa State Army automatically comes to mind.

Likewise, if the outfit is fighting Rangoon for autonomy or secession then it is friendly to Thailand. Groups like the Karen National Union, Shan State Army and Karenni National Progressive Party fall into this category. This law is likely to prevail until security concerns take a back seat to bilateral cooperation. The question is what must be done for both sides to achieve that needed comfort level.

The Thaksin government tried to influence change in Burma by keeping the West at bay but failed. This time around, the Democrat Party, with a track record of being critical of the junta, is suggesting that there is a need to think outside the box.

During his recent visit, Foreign Minister Kasit Piromya brought up the issue of these so-called proxies along the border. He was asked by the junta to urge the ethnic rebel armies along the border to join Burma’s seven-step national-reconciliation plan, a process that has been billed a sham by critics.

However, it is not clear what Kasit will do next with regard to this request, which from a historical perspective may be way over his head. A bit of wishful thinking, perhaps, if Thailand thinks it can “mediate” peace talks between the rebels and the junta. Facilitation, on the other hand, is more plausible.

From a bird’s-eye view, the Thai-Burmese border is characterised by its cut-throat politics where rebel leaders, opium warlords, the Thai Army and Burmese generals play for keeps. As long as anyone can remember, armed ethnic groups have always functioned as a buffer between the two nagging neighbours. At the behest of the Thai or Burmese militaries, these ethnic armies do all the dirty work, keeping the hands of their respective overlords clean.

Most of these groups have entered into ceasefire agreements with the Burmese junta in exchange for limited self-rule in so-called “special regions” where they grow opium and churn out methamphetamines. Others have chosen legitimate businesses, granting Thai and Chinese businessmen logging and mining concessions along the border.

Burma doesn’t mind if these warlords fatten their wallets with the concession money as long as they remain in the junta’s “legal fold” and do not pose any security threats. Over the past two years, Burma has tried hard to get these groups to hand over their weapons, but success has been very limited.

On the surface, there haven’t been any outbursts along the border between the two sides for a fair while now.

But military officers on the frontline warn against reaching any premature conclusions. The absence of confrontation does not necessarily mean peace, they say. Mistrust still runs high. It is just that the two sides haven’t picked up their guns to display it.

https://democracyforburma.wordpress.com/2009/03/28/the-thai-burmese-border-has-a-life-of-its-own/

‘REFUGEE’ INCIDENT: Pulo denies role in Muslim exodus

Outlawed separatist group says flight of 131 Narathiwat asylum seekers into Malaysia was spurred by harassment 

Don Pathan
The Nation

The Pattani United Liberation Organisation (Pulo) has dismissed allegations by the Thai government that it hatched a plot for 131 Thai Muslims to flee to Malaysia and to smear Thailand’s reputation by drawing international attention to the incident.

In a statement delivered to The Nation last weekend from the exiled outlawed Muslim militant organisation’s headquarters in Europe, Pulo said the 131 Thai nationals were ordinary villagers who fled their homes in southern Thailand because “they cannot live under Thai harassment.”

Pulo officials also dismissed accusations that the Pattani Malay Human Rights Organisation was their political “front” organisation. The Pulo statement said the Malay human rights organisation had been formed shortly after the Tak Bai demonstration last October when 78 Muslim demonstrators died in the custody of Thai security forces.

The organisation is an independent organisation with no link to Pulo, and that it helps “displaced people who need shelter and basic needs for survival”, according to Pulo. The 131 Thai Muslims seeking asylum in Malaysia are residents of Narathiwat’s border districts and appear to have crossed into Malaysia simultaneously before taking refuge in two mosques in the state of Kelantan.

They have since been relocated to a shelter and are being interviewed by officials working for a UN refugee agency. The incident took on a bitter diplomatic note when Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra accused some of the purported refugees of being insurgents. The Malaysian government responded by inviting the UN High Commissioner for Refugees to interview the Thai Muslims to determine their status.

Outspoken former Malaysian prime minister Mahathir Mohamad ratcheted up the controversy when he suggested the 131 Thai Muslims be given asylum once their status as refugees was established. Muslim residents in Narathiwat said they believed the asylum-seekers had fled because of a misunderstanding with security officials who ordered locals to report to provincial offices to undergo a week-long “re-education programme” aimed instilling a heightened sense of patriotism.

 Residents said a recently passed controversial emergency decree, described by critics as “a license to kill”, may also have been a factor in further alarming local Muslims fearing abuse at the hands of security forces. Pulo surfaced in the 1970s at the height of the armed struggle by ethnic Malays seeking independence from Thailand.

Hostilities died down in the previous decade before they resurfaced again in January 2004 with a raid on an army arsenal. Since then nearly 900 people have been killed in the South. “As you may have notice, we are back,” the exiled organisation’s statement read. Pulo also accused the Thai government of misleading the Organisation of Islamic Conference in order to enhance relations with Muslim countries.

The statement by Pulo asserted that it was police and army “brutality” that had led to the renewed insurgency. The statement stated that Thai security forces had carried out extra-judicial killings of at least 17 Muslims prior to the assassination of Imam Stopa Yusoh in Lahar village in Narathiwat. It said these incidents had fostered resentment against the state, particularly after the killings were not properly investigated.

“We are engaged in defending and protecting local people who, as you know, are confronting Thai security men,” the statement said. In another statement issued by the organisation, exiled deputy president Abae Kamae dismissed recent news reports that Pulo was holding talks with government officials. He also dismissed a statement by an unnamed “spokesman” that the organisation was planning attacks in Phuket, Bangkok, and Pattaya. “It is not our policy” to stage such attacks, he said.

---------------

BURNING ISSUE: Malaysia row may backfire
Thaksin’s bitter ‘refugee’ pillis entirely self-administered

Don Pathan
The Nation

September 16, 2005

Thailand and Malaysia have once again found themselves at loggerheads in the
aftermath of a diplomatic tussle that involves the 131 Thai Muslims who fled their
villages for the Malaysian state of Kelantan, reportedly because they were scared by
an impending crackdown on their community by government security forces.
But this round of a political tussle could prove very costly for Bangkok now that the
stakes have been raised. An unwanted international spotlight is shining brightly on the
restive region, although the government insists that the incident is an internal affair.
Senior security officials on the ground said the issue could have been settled at a very
local level between the immigration officers of the two countries.
40
They said the Foreign Ministry had hit the right note when suggesting on the first day
that it was a case of simple misunderstanding and that the villagers would be treated
with dignity upon their return. But Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra could not stay
quiet long enough for diplomacy to take its due course.
Thaksin put the ball in Kuala Lumpur’s court when he stated that some of the 131
were Muslim insurgents, whom authorities accuse of trying to carve out a separate
homeland for the ethnic Malays in Thailand’s deep South.
Malaysia responded by permitting the UN High Commissioner for Refugees
(UNHCR) to get into the act – an unprecedented move on this sticky issue, which has
long been at the centre of dealings between the two countries.
Former Malaysian prime minister Mahathir Mohammed turned up the heat even
further when he suggested that the 131 Narathiwat villagers should be given asylum if
they are deemed to be genuine refugees.
Defence Minister Thamarak Isarangura then shot back, suggesting that Kuala Lumpur
has turned a blind eye to supposed meetings among Thai Muslim insurgents on the
Malaysian island of Langkawi. But his move to implicate Malaysia could very well
pave the way for a completely new tone and context for future bilateral dialogues over
the border region, although not all stakeholders are convinced that this is best for the
two countries.
For one thing, the two governments have never really agreed between themselves
whether the violence in the South is criminal or political in nature.
The two sides cannot even agree on whether the extradition treaty dating from the
colonial period should be honoured.
Thailand has insisted all along that the violence in the deep South is a domestic matter
but overlooked the possibility that somehow along the way, Malaysia would be
brought into the picture.
So when the 131 local residents fled across the border, it was a question of too little
and too late to come up with an agreement about what is the appropriate terminology.
Diplomats and observers say that the Malaysian authorities have never really trusted
their Thai counterparts to treat the suspects whom they had previously handed over in
a proper manner – or at least in line with the country’s legal procedures.
If the UN deems the 131 to be genuine refugees, then any arrest warrants from the
Thai police would be almost meaningless as insurgent crimes in the unruly region
could be conveniently deemed political. And as refugees, they would have the right to
ask for resettlement in a third country.
At the recent Asean-UN summit in New York, Thaksin lashed out at an unnamed UN
agency for allowing itself to be “trapped into local political exploitation that could
lead to international misunderstanding”.
41
“Had the agency paid due respect to Thailand’s concern and had it tried to understand
the real cause of the incident, it would not have been so exploited,” Thaksin added.
But why hasn’t Thaksin asked Kuala Lumpur directly about this? Why couldn’t the
PM and his men stay quiet long enough to let officials handle the problem at the local
level?Some two years ago Thaksin said the UN was not his father – an angry remark
about the world body’s criticism of his government’s human rights record.
That may be true – the UN is not his father. But for the time being, Thaksin is
beginning to feel the might of an organisation often referred to as a “paper tiger”.
If the UNHCR grants the 131 “refugee” status, Thailand would know what a bitter pill
tastes like – the kind of pill that Burma and the Indochinese countries had been taking
for the most of the last half of the previous century when internal conflicts pushed
their own people across someone else’s border.
Don Pathan

Thaksin Shuffles his Hand

The military and cabinet reshuffles have all but assured Thaksin’s hold on domestic politics. Now, he has his sights set on grander goals. 

By Don Pathan
The Irrawaddy

Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra must have had some sleepless nights leading up to the bureaucratic shakeup. Given the outbreak of public criticism and mudslinging prior to the annual military reshuffle and the nagging from politicians looking to secure seats in the new cabinet lineup, the political pressure would have taken its toll on the PM. 

But with his overwhelming public mandate, a secure Parliamentary majority, and the hype surrounding his populist policies, there could be nothing left to stop the PM and his trusted lieutenants from selecting "the right man for the right job". Unscathed from his previous political imbroglios, Thaksin has learned that he has what it takes to squeak by and still come out on top. 

Although Thaksin maintains that he did his best regarding the new cabinet lineup and denies any interference with the annual military reshuffle, his power nevertheless seems more consolidated than ever before. And now that his relatives and close allies have assumed key military and government positions, everything should be smooth sailing from here on out—or so he hopes. 

For the past 20 months, Thaksin’s camp has swooped in on various government offices, removing and transferring a number of top posts in the Bank of Thailand, the Stock Exchange of Thailand and other state-owned enterprises like Krung Thai Bank. Moving in on the military’s turf, however, is a different story altogether. The men in uniform traditionally see themselves in a different light than other bureaucrats—as the defenders of national sovereignty. So when a here today, gone tomorrow politician comes barking orders, the top brass understandably takes offense. 

Unlike the previous administration, Thaksin and his men do not consider themselves fly-by-night officeholders. Judging from their track record over the previous 20 months, they are here to stay, and the military will have to get used to it—like it or not. After all, this is an administration elected to office with an unprecedented public mandate. In August, more than two months before the military reshuffle, Thaksin took the previously unimaginable step into a domain where past premiers had dared not stray too far. He handpicked the new army commander-in-chief, Somdhat Attanand, with the understanding that Somdhat would work with the outgoing Gen Surayud Chulanont to assemble the new military lineup. Initially, it seemed like a good idea on the surface. But in reality, it became a "big mess", to use the words of former Defense Minister Chavalit Yongchaiyudh. 

As defense minister, Chavalit is entitled to his say in allocating military positions. But the deputy premier also knows that the political tides are turning against him. The challenge was to draw up a list that all sides would find satisfactory. But considering the high level of political interference and the number of hands in the cookie jar, it would have been impossible not to create any bitterness. 

The military posed the final barrier in this administration’s quest to consolidate its grip on the bureaucracy. The stakes were too high to leave the reshuffle in the hands of Gen Surayud, a man who has never seen eye-to-eye with the premier about Burma. Historically, politicians and the top brass have had to walk a fine line during reshuffles and bureaucratic appointments. The rule of thumb was that politicians were not supposed to do anything that would alienate the armed forces with their selections. On the other hand, military leaders were expected to stand firm while simultaneously presenting themselves as reasonable sorts who could negotiate and compromise with political leaders. This time around, however, the military has accepted the fact that civilian politicians, with the people’s indisputable mandate behind them, are now their superiors. For the men in uniform, this is a bitter pill to swallow. 

The decision to kick the widely respected Gen Surayud upstairs to the ceremonial post of armed forces supreme commander has raised a number of eyebrows. Another "promotion", genuinely a case of career advancement in this instance, is the appointment of the premier’s cousin, Gen Chaisit Shinawatra, to the post of assistant commander of the army. This places him in the top-five of the army hierarchy and makes him a likely candidate for the commander-in-chief post next year when Gen Somdhat, along with Gen Surayud, steps down at the mandatory retirement age of 60. Gen Surayud is seen by many as a professional soldier who helped exorcise the ghosts from the army’s May 1992 killing of unarmed protestors, and who restored public trust in Thailand’s armed forces.

His firm stance against Burma’s military build-up along their shared border, and his swift responses to repeated incursions by pro-Rangoon ethnic armies have earned him, as well as the armed forces, tremendous public support. But now, with Surayud out of the way, and Chavalit slowly fading from view, the spotlight has shifted to Foreign Minister Surakiart Sathirathai, the PM’s trusted aid. The decision to leave Burma in the hands of Surakiart irks Chavalit, who considers himself a "brother" of the junta. He took pride in his unique brand of defense diplomacy and often boasted of how it would save Thai-Burmese relations. In fact, a great deal of his political life has been devoted to Burma and Burma-related issues, so it was no surprise when he could no longer hold back his sarcastic remarks about the government handing Burma over to Surakiart. Criticizing the planned luncheon between the Thai and Burmese cabinets scheduled while the border remained closed, Chavalit quipped, "I accept the fact that we are friends…but that doesn’t mean we have to take orders from them." 

Surakiart will have big shoes to fill as he carries out the daunting task of patching things up with the junta, who never falter in keeping one step ahead of the Thais. Too bad for Surakiart. The Thai Foreign Ministry, unlike the armed forces, has never been regarded as a source of comfort for the Thai people. Thus, no matter what spin he puts on things, Surakiart faces an uphill battle trying to convince the public that his dealings with Burma are in the best interest of a people whose opinions are already fixed about the Burmese junta’s moral rectitude. 

As the tumult over these hectic rounds of military and Cabinet reshuffles dies down, and the new team settles in to their posts before embarking on a bureaucratic joy ride, the premier will again find some breathing space. Critics and political cartoonists have already had their turn taking jabs at the new lineup. While all the huffing and puffing from those who lost their seats have vented most of their steam. And now that the key people have been placed in their respective positions, political insiders say that Thaksin is turning his attention to bigger and better things. Thaksin, they say, wants to be seen as a regional leader; recognized as an exemplary statesman in the same light as Malaysia’s Mahathir Mohamed and Singapore’s Lee Kuan Yew. And with Mahathir stepping down next year and Lee gradually sliding out of the picture as Singapore’s third generation of leaders takes over, Thaksin regards himself as the man to take center stage as leader of the region. 

Thaksin and his men have placed much hope and hype on the Asian Cooperation Dialogue (ACD), presenting this forum as the launching pad from which Thaksin could achieve international stardom. But the informal gathering of Asian ministers has been billed merely as an expensive talk-fest lacking in direction, purpose, and political commitment. 

For the political commentators, journalists, and other Bangkok-based diplomats covering the event, the ACD became a sad joke. While nobody doubts Thaksin’s determination to become an international statesman, the people in Thaksin’s camp recognize that the reputations of Lee and Mahathir, like Rome, were not built in a day. Regardless of how much energy they spend trying to turn the telecom tycoon into a statesman of stature, Thaksin’s supporters know well that he is ultimately going to have to earn his reputation the old-fashioned way. There are no shortcuts to international stardom. If his handling of crises on an international scale—from the terrorist attacks against the US to the waxing and waning of Thai-Burmese bilateral ties—over the past 20 months is any indication, Thaksin’s quest to be recognized as an exemplary international statesman will not be smooth sailing at all.

https://www2.irrawaddy.com/article.php?art_id=2757&page=1

Chasing the Burmese dragon

The Thaksin government is poised to launch a major anti-drug offensive against the Burma-based Wa army. It stands a real risk of failure, Don Pathan reports.

Two years ago when the bodies of nine Thai villagers, beaten to death with their hands tied behind their backs, were found scattered along the northern border, all fingers pointed to the Wa army which is based just on the other side of the border.

It was a drug deal gone bad, and members of the United Wa State Army did it, Thai officials said. Though no one has proven exactly who carried out the brutal act, nevertheless the blame was conveniently placed on the Wa. After all, this 20,000-strong outfit has been dubbed the world's largest armed drug-trafficking group, and a number of its leaders have already been indicted by a US federal court on drug charges.

Thai security agencies found themselves in a situation where they had to act and act fast. The army was brought into the picture, border crossings leading to the UWSA areas were ordered shut, and over 1,000 Thai workers building everything from roads and hydroelectric dams to schools and hospitals in nearby Wacontrolled areas were told to come home.

For the Thai troops along the border overlooking Doi Sam Sao opposite Thailand's Mae Ai district, this meant that their daily volleyball games with the Wa soldiers had to end. The Thai public and the media went along for the ride, and the Thaksin government, as well as the previous Chuan administration, couldn't resist jumping on the bandwagon in spite of its racist connotations. "Wa" immediately became a household name. And just like that, an entire ethnic group became demonised.

To show that he meant business Thaksin, shortly after taking over as premier, launched a highprofile drug seminar in Chiang Mai. Photographs showed Burma's security chief, Lt-General Khin Nyunt, shaking hands with Wa leaders in Mong Yawn, a newly built town adjacent to Chiang Mai's Mae Ai district. Thai officials said Mong Yawn was the source of millions of methamphetamine pills heading for the streets of Bangkok and other major cities in the country.

At the end of the two-day seminar, Thaksin boldly told the public that he would take the matter straight to Rangoon. China, said Thaksin, will also be brought into the picture to help with the counter-narcotics efforts.

Thailand's latest move is to form a 400-strong anti-drug task force made up of staff from the Army Special Forces, infantry and Border Police units. They will be trained by a team of about 20 soldiers from the US Special Forces, starting this October under the supervision of the Third Army.

But while the public ate up the anti-narcotic rhetoric, little discussion was given to the implications and the possible fallout with Rangoon and Beijing, two sovereign governments whose priorities happen to be other than the Thai people's bad habits.

A Bangkok-based foreign diplomat overseeing drug issues called Thailand's declaring war on the Wa a "knee-jerk" reaction without real understanding of the situation on the ground. For any anti-narcotic policy to be successful, according to Burma experts, it must include a meaningful political solution for all insurgent groups in the ethnically diverse country. Drug trafficking and insurgency, they say, are two

sides of the same coin.

In a recent interview with The Nation, the UN Drug Control Programme's regional representative Sandro Calvani said a strong foundation for regional countries to cooperate in their anti-narcotic efforts "exists in joint agreements, but real united action requires significant improvements".

"Finger-pointing to drug-producers or drug-users helps no one. History in other parts of the world has shown that isolating a group does more harm than help," said Calvani, suggesting that

regional UN coordinated action on the Wa and Burma might be more effective than fragmented

moves by Thailand, Malaysia, China, India and other countries concerned.

As for the country's anti-drug policy, an alliance that unites the government, the UN and the entire civil society must be created, while the private and public sectors, as well as government agencies and the community, must be included in this endeavour, he said.

For years Rangoon has consistently come under attack by Western governments for allowing drug armies and opium warlords to operate with little hindrance. They point to the presence of the Wa army along Burma's northern border with Thailand and China, as well as the Kokang Chinese, also known as the Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army.

But the reality on the ground, say Thai and foreign drug officials, is that the Burmese government has little control over the Wa's activities. For one thing, Burmese troops must have permission before entering areas occupied by UWSA troops.

Wa fighters were the foot-soldiers of the now defunct Communist Party of Burma. In 1989 the CPB fractured along ethnic lines, and the group formed the United Wa State Army, before working out an attractive cease-fire agreement orchestrated by security chief Lt-General Khin Nyunt.

For Rangoon the truce neutralised a 20,000-strong insurgent group that had enough weapons to last them for another decade. For the Wa it was a green light to expand their heroin empire southwards from the Chinese border to areas adjacent to Thailand's northern border. Along the way they clashed with former drug kingpin Khun Sa, hastening his surrender in January 1996.

Today, besides filling a vacuum left by Khun Sa, the presence of the |Wa army along the Thai border is deemed a security threat to Thailand. The group is also perceived to be a significant factor in the tit-for-tat relations between Thailand and Burma. 

The Nation

https://sandrocalvani.it/archivio/docs/20080918_News_chasing_dragon.pdf