Something is rotten in the Golden Triangle

Don Pathan
The Nation

Although it was billed as an inevitable occurrence, the indictment in absentia of eight Wa drug lords jolted the Burmese government and has made the Thais, Chinese, and even the UN wonder what the future holds for the politics of opium in the notorious Golden Triangle. 

UWSA Chairman Bao Yu-xiang (Don Pathan, 2003)

The US Justice Department last week indicted eight leaders of the United Wa State Army (UWSA) ñ a pro-Rangoon outfit that controls an autonomous region near the Chinese border

with trafficking heroin and methamphetamines to various destinations throughout the world. Among those indicted were powerful UWSA chairman Bao Yu-xiang and his commander, Wei Hsueh-kang, a Han Chinese who arrived in the Golden Triangle decades ago to seek fortune and glory.

With an abundance of opium, fortune was not hard to come by. But everlasting glory remains nowhere in sight, as the heavily guarded Wei, who has a US$2-million (Bt76.92-million) price on his head, continues to move around freely, albeit discreetly, in northern Burma.

Observers who monitor UWSA activities said the indictments have jolted the leadership of the nearly 20,000-strong outfit, which thought it had been making headway in its quest to be recognised as running legitimate businesses. Bao has received foreign envoys, persuaded the UN to set up a small crop-substitution project and threatened to punish farmers in his territory if they continue to grow opium after this year. He even managed to obtain a Bt20-million commitment, with the help of then Burmese prime minister Khin Nyunt, from the Thai government to support crop substitution.

Wei Hsueh-kang (file photo)

The indictments are humiliating for Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, who decided to give the UWSA the benefit of the doubt despite having publicly stated that he would get Wei one day, dead or alive. In December 2003, Thaksin dispatched then Third Army Region commander Lt-General Picharnmate Muangmanee to participate in the opening ceremony for a Thai-funded school in Wa territory. For a brief moment, it looked like things would change for the better in that region, where gun-toting opium warlords play for keeps. But nobody seriously believed the good times would last. After all, that particular event had more to do with whitewashing the worldís largest drug-trafficking army ñ and strengthening Thai-Burmese relations ñ than it did with the interests of Wa peasants or any long-term peace settlement.

Throughout the entire kiss-and-make-up episode between the Thais and the Wa, Wei and his gang continued to run their drug-funded businesses through his associates in Burma, China and Thailand, while heroin and methamphetamines coming out of clandestine labs in Wa-controlled areas continued to flood the world. But that has all changed with the indictments. A cloud of uncertainty hangs over UWSA territory, as Wa leaders wonder what the future holds.

Moreover, there is now tremendous pressure on Rangoon to consider a military option against the Wa. One Wa official in Panghsang said Rangoon has tried to bluff them by dispatching a couple of battalions to their Special Region 2. But there is no indication that the junta is prepared to engage in full battle, which many say could be costly for the generals, both politically and militarily.

Chairman Bao Yuxiang (left)  and Don Pathan (center) 2003.

A senior UWSA officer told The Nation during a visit last November to the groupís headquarters in Panghsang that Rangoon will likely push for a renegotiation of the 1989 cease-fire agreement.

Under that agreement, which was orchestrated by Khin Nyunt, the UWSA was given the right to govern its own autonomous region and maintain its own army. Bao has said he would like to see such guarantees included in the countryís constitution.

The US indictments have also put the Chinese authorities, especially those along the border, in an awkward position now that their cosy relations with the Wa are in the spotlight. Wa drug money has been invested openly in Chinese hotels, shops and department stores in Chinaís border towns.

Historically, the Wa have come a long way ñ from being the butt of Burmese jokes because of their head-hunting rituals two generations ago to the countryís biggest political and security liability.

Even at the height of the Communist insurgency two decades ago, Wa fighters were a force to be reckoned with, forming the largest block of foot soldiers in the now-defunct Communist Party of Burma. Like other insurgent groups, they turned to opium to finance their campaign. And like the leaders of other ethnic armies operating along Burmaís border, Bao and his commanders have been unable to kick the habit. For years, Bao has said UWSA territory would be drug-free by the end of 2005 ìor you can have my headî. With his indictment, one wonders just how safe his head is now.

Making sense of the muddle in the South

By Supalak Ganjanakhundee,  Don Pathan

Armed Forces supreme commander General Chaisit Shinawatra has never been so honest about his shortcomings.

In a recent interview on Radio Thailand, the military chief admitted candidly that one year after Muslim insurgents had decided to take their fight directly to the country’s security forces when they raided an Army battalion in Narathiwat, he still doesn’t know what they want.

Chaisit pointed to the ongoing upsurge of violence that over this past year has expanded from traditional targets – police and military officers – to innocent victims, including students and local villagers. Other “soft targets” – such as noodle shops, school buses and small eateries and street vendors – have also been caught up in the violence.

“I see no reason for them to attack innocent targets, nor do I understand what they hope to gain,” Chaisit said. “I don’t detect an ideology in any of this.”
One reason why Chaisit and government security planners cannot understand their adversaries, say analysts, is that they have failed to acknowledge the magnitude of the resentment of the local Muslim community in the Malay-speaking South towards the state. Likewise, they have failed to recognise the new political context in which the militants are working.

Unlike in previous decades – when separatists were positioned in remote hills and carried out their fight through the actions of conventional warfare – members of the new generation see themselves as holy warriors inspired by religion and fuelled by age-old anger towards the state. Their preferred method seems to be drive-by assassinations of security officials and their informants, though security officers have also blamed them for the recent spate of bomb attacks on restaurants frequented by government officials.

Despite the obvious changes in the style of the militants’ activities, the government has continued to respond in a very conventional manner. In the aftermath of the January raid, for example, the Thai-Malaysian border was sealed off and much of the three southernmost provinces were placed under martial law. About 4,000 troops were mobilised to the restive region with loosely defined rules of engagement permitting them to carry out search-and-destroy operations, and if necessary, shooting to kill. But one year later, these short-term measures have more or less become the norm. While the government boasts about its progress, security officials are still being assassinated on a daily basis, while innocent bystanders are quickly becoming the targets themselves.

Unable to come up with a new way of thinking and not knowing what to make of the bits and pieces of information they have obtained through interrogation and intelligence sources, security planners continue to deal with the violence the only way they know how – with brute force, as seen in the April stand-off at the Kru Se Mosque and the mass deaths during and after the Tak Bai incident last October.

Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra’s all-or-nothing attitude towards the problems in the Muslim South have placed Thailand in a bad light in the eyes of the international community, while locally the Tak Bai tragedy has pushed many resentful locals into the arms of the insurgents, said a former Barisan Revolusi Nasional member.

Internally, rivalries among security agencies have taken their toll on the overall efforts to bring peace and stability to the region. The latest humiliating episode ended in the transfer of assistant police chief Lt-General Wongkot Maneerin because he stated that the current structure had given the military too much power.

But disputes between the military and the police are only the tip of an iceberg, and such quarrels are seen as an integral part of Thailand’s bureaucracy because of its overlapping duties and unclear divisions of labour.

Indeed, just about every security agency and office has established some sort of presence in the Malay-speaking South, but their mandate and operating procedures are still very unclear, resulting in some serious loggerheads between individuals and their respective agencies.

Last year a report from the National Intelligence Agency (NIA) alleging that the police had been carrying out extrajudicial killings of Gerakan Mujahideen Islam Pattani members resulted in a group of police kicking down the door of the NIA office in Narathiwat.

Moreover, reports about the leader of the separatist Bersatu group, Wan Kadir Che Man, wanting to return to Thailand and work with the authorities on reconciliation have split the country’s top brass into two camps.

Aware that the Thais can be unforgiving in the face of any challenge to their notion of Thailand’s sovereignty and national identity, Deputy Prime Minister Chavalit Yongchaiyudh has started lashing out at those who have supported the idea of Wan Kadir’s return. The issue has become so heavily politicised that it has had to be taken off the state’s agenda indefinitely to avoid further embarrassment.

Another cause of dispute within the intelligence community concerns a well-known Middle Eastern-trained cleric, Ismail Lutphi Japakiya, the rector of the Islamic College of Yala.
Certain sections of the intelligence community have gone out of their way to identify him as the Thai link to certain international terrorist organisations, while a number of Muslims and non-Muslims alike see his orthodox and puritanical outlook on Islam as promoting instability. Chavalit has repeatedly made public references equating Lutphi’s puritanical approach – commonly referred to as Wahabiism – to extremism.

Some feel that putting too much pressure on Lutphi could invite unwanted complaints from the governments of Muslim countries and mullahs in the Middle East, who have been very generous with his education projects in southern Thailand.

Regardless of the attempts by certain parties to single Lutphi out, the country’s political elite still seeks his endorsement for all kind of activities.

The cleric continues to lend his name to various organisations under the title of consultant or adviser to these organisations’ boards. The verdict, it seems, is still out on what kind of man Lutphi should be made out to be, as well as on whether the country’s security agencies will ever be able to sing to the same tune.

BUDDHISTS SAY ‘WHAT ABOUT US?’

Don Pathan
The Nation

Narathiwat

Published on Nov 22, 2004 

Sipping tea and speaking in a low voice at a small coffee shop at the downtown fresh market in this southern capital, Weeraphong accused the government of being too soft on the Muslims in this Malay-majority region and talked about how the authorities needed to teach them a good lesson.

Weeraphong, who asked that his last name not be used, said governments had been too lenient on the Muslims here. The current government’s policy to bring the ethnic Malays on a par with the rest of the country in the areas of education and employment, particularly in the civil service, was an outright discrimination against people like him, a Thai Buddhist, he said.

“It’s never enough for them. You give them one thing but they will always want more,” whispered the primary school teacher.

Less than two blocks down the street from this shop is a Chinese-owned restaurant where the entire front was blown to shreds the night before. The fertiliser bomb sent 16 people to the emergency room and kicked off a growing fear that more attacks on “soft targets” are on the way. 

Early the next morning in front of what’s left of this restaurant, as two men put up banners accusing Senator Chirmsak Pinthong and other rights campaigners of being cowards for only speaking up for the Muslims but not the “innocent victims”, a local Thai-Chinese businessman screamed at the top of his lungs when a TV reporter stuck a camera in his face.

“It has been eleven months and what is Thaksin doing?” fumed the beefy Thai-Chinese, who sported a golden amulet on his chest to show that he was a proud Buddhist.

“He [Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra] keeps talking about all kinds of strategies but innocent people continue to die every day. This is the only government I know that gives money to family members of criminals,” he shouted.

Residents of this street of Chinese shophouses clapped, while Muslim onlookers stood expressionless.

The so-called “criminals” the man was talking about were the 85 Muslim demonstrators who died at the Tak Bai protest or were in custody immediately thereafter, an incident that has been described by many as an attempt to teach the Muslims a lesson. Thaksin later announced that the family of each victim would receive Bt700,000.

Autopsies showed that six of them died from gunshot wounds and the rest apparently from suffocation while being transported in military trucks stacked one on top of the other to an Army camp in Pattani. The trip usually takes an hour and a half but, for whatever reason, most of the transport vehicles arrived four hours or more after leaving Tak Bai.

Thaksin said he regretted the loss of life but would not apologise for the deaths. Instead, the premier, who appeared to be more concerned with his political rating than getting to the bottom of the tragic incident, played up his nationalistic card, accusing the demonstrators of being Muslim separatists.

In a speech that was supposed to be a tell-all, it was 10 minutes before the word “regret” came out of Thaksin’s mouth. It was the closest to an apology that anybody was going to get. The rest of his speech was about how he was not going to allow an inch of the country be taken away by any separatist group.

Violence in this Muslim-majority region is nothing new. But unlike in earlier decades when clashes were largely between security forces and armed separatist groups in remote hills of the three southernmost provinces, the violence now appears to have divided the region more than ever.

Locals said that even at the height of the armed separatist movement two decades ago, local Buddhists – most of whom are ethnic Chinese – and Muslims co-existed peacefully. 

Back then there was no real resentment and it didn’t really matter that Buddhists were richer or better connected economically and politically, they said. 

“We grew up together like brothers and sisters,” said a Narathiwat native who entered the monkhood 10 years ago and currently resides at a temple in Joh I Rong district, one of the most violence-prone spots in the region.

It’s a different story nowadays, however.

The monk blasted Thaksin for not having the political will to bridge the psychological divide between the two communities. “He thinks money can cure everything,” he said.

Hama Mayunu, a leading member of the Narathiwat chapter of the Local Community Development Association, said that as the violence began affecting innocent civilians, voices of reason had also begun to disappear.

He said there was a growing perception that all Muslims were in the same boat and were collaborating to drive out the Buddhists from the Malay-majority region. 

“A Chinese opened the biggest shop in my neighbourhood and none of us feel threatened or that he is taking advantage of us,” said Hama, who also operates a community radio service that broadcast in the local Malay dialect.

“If the Muslims wanted to chase the Buddhists out they would have done it a long time ago. In fact, we elected a Thai-Chinese as our mayor,” Hama said.

Since the beginning of the year, Thailand has witnessed an increasing number of civilians being killed, including Buddhist monks, four of whom were hacked to death. The scope of victims has expanded from armed troops to non-security personnel, as well as innocent Buddhist villagers.

Among the Muslims, talk of disappearances and extrajudicial killings echoed in just about every community but few were willing to say anything openly to outsiders for fear that they could be next for speaking out or just making an observation.

Security officers blamed the ongoing spate of violence against the security forces on a new generation of home-grown insurgents who took matters into their own hands, partly in response to abuses by the authorities and partly due to inspiration from abroad, namely the global jihad phenomenon.

“But the killings of innocent civilians, women and children – there is nothing there in Islam to justify it,” said Hama.

For the local Buddhists, there is no distinction between an attack against state officials and an attack against innocent civilians. Many believe the local Muslims are colluding against them.

Sitting under a shed watching Marines making sandbags and nervous-looking young Muslims stroll through the checkpoint, Penporn Suranatakul, the village chief of Ban Thung Kha in Yi-ngo district, accused the Muslims of collaborating with insurgents to drive out the Buddhists to buy cheap land.

“These teenagers drive up in their motorbikes and point out which house they are going to take if and when we move out,” said Penporn, as she tried hard to hold back her tears.

“And now these academics and human rights people in Bangkok are saying the troops have to be punished. What about their wives and children? Who is going to look after them?” asked Penporn, adding that she supported harsh measures regardless of the outcome.

Thaksin said the attacks were tearing the fabric of the country apart and added that the violence against civilians was designed to provoke harsh responses from the security forces.

But judging from the way the authorities dealt with the unarmed protesters at Tak Bai police station, “harsh response” is an understatement.

While the Muslims killed by security forces over the past year, including the protesters who died in the Tak Bai incident, were buried as Muslim martyrs, there is nothing here to suggest that the local Muslims here are supportive of the insurgency.

No one here wants to think their sons had died in vain, regardless of whether they were part of the 106 machete-wielding youths shot dead by security forces on April 28 or among the unarmed demonstrators who died following the Tak Bai protest on October 25.

But on the other hand, government’s harsh measures and questionable tactics appear to be creating more martyrs as both Muslims and officials agree that violence will breed more violence. 

“It is believed that for every martyr, a thousand more will replace him,” Hama said.

Meanwhile, Weeraphong said he constantly watched his rear-view mirrors while riding his motorcycle, wondering if he would be the next victim in this spate of violence that has claimed more than 450 lives since the beginning of the year.

“It’s terrible to be living in fear,” Weeraphong said. 

But moving out of this region is out of the question, he said – at least for the time being.

Confessions of an Islamic assassin

Don Pathan
The Nation

Pattani 

Sitting on a bed in a hospital where he was recovering from bullet wounds, 31-year-old Islamic teacher Abdullah Akoh spoke passionately about the need to right wrongs. 

Facing a possible life sentence for killing an on-duty soldier, Abdullah spoke vividly about the hatred he felt for the state under which he was born.

He said that government officials were responsible for rapes, abductions, assassinations and brutality. He added that in this atmosphere his resentment had grown continuously over the years.

Beyond these wrongs, Abdullah cited several others that he wanted to make right. 

But for now despite his grievances Abdullah is traveling around the country at the request of the Army to address fellow Islamic teachers, or uztas, and government officials about the need for the people of the Muslim-majority South and the state to reconcile. His message is that violence should not be the means to achieve this end.

The Army is banking on the notion that men like Abdullah can help with the reconciliation process and heal the historical wounds that so trouble the people of the South.

Sitting on his hospital bed, to which he is normally handcuffed, Abdullah talked about the resentment he felt towards the state, saying that his ill feelings had gotten the better of him.

About five years ago, an ustad by the name of Ismail Rayalong asked him to join a movement whose mission was to one day liberate the Malay-Muslim region from the ìinfidelsî.

Abdullah said that Ismail, also known as Ustad Soh, was charismatic and persuasive.

"We played football together and shared desserts and became friends very quickly," Abdullah said. 

"Three weeks later he asked me to join his organisation. I agreed," Abdullah said.

According to Abdullah, Ustad Soh claimed to have supernatural powers. He told Abdullah that after a man had reached a certain state of reverence, he could make himself disappear at will or become impervious to bullets and knives. Abdullah decided to give his new friend the benefit of the doubt and to pursue the courses he was advocating. For more than four years, Ustad Soh moved from village to village, singling out young men of good standing in their communities and, after planting the seeds of trust, recruiting them into an outfit that Abdullah called Talekat Hikmahtullah Abandan (Direction from God Towards Invincibility).

Abdullah said that there were four other men in his cell, all from the same village. The team kept to themselves and were not permitted to know who was in the other cells. During military training, which included low crawls and simulated assaults using branches in place of guns and knives, Ustad Soh would make sure that each participating cell came from villages that were as far apart as possible in order to avoid further contact.

April 28, 2004, was just around the corner. The date was to mark Hikmahtullah's first strike against the state that its members so despised. But for Abdullah, the price of this assault was too high. He said he was not willing to walk into certain death no matter how committed he was to the group cause.

"I asked Ustad Soh for guns, but he said we would only use knives," Abdullah said.

"He said that what he had been teaching us would be enough to keep us out of harmís way and that we would be able to take a knife wound or a gunshot [without being hurt]," he added.

By the end of the day, 106 Muslim insurgents lay dead. Most, if not all, had been armed with nothing more than a knife when they attacked 11 police outposts across the region.

But if the aim of the raid was to instill a sense of fear within the country's security apparatus and political leaders, the group went beyond its expectations. 

Abdullah said he was shocked and saddened by the deaths of his comrades and blamed Ustad Soh for their deaths.

In spite of his falling out with his mentor, Abdullah said he was still committed to the idea of seeing Pattani liberated.

Three weeks after the bloody incident, Ustad Soh came around again, claiming to have a new set of instructions from his higher-ups. This time guns and bombs could be used, Abdullah said. In July, Ustad Soh showed up with a 9mm handgun.

"Something has to be done in this area. There has to be an incident, make some noise," Abdullah quoted Ustad Soh as saying.

The nature of the attack would be similar to many previous hits; a security officer was to be shot with a handgun at close range by a gunman riding on the back of a motorbike. Abdullah said he spent a week monitoring the soldier at a nearby outpost, observing how the soldiers moved to and from the nearby markets.

On July 22, Abdullah was prepared to take a life. The target would be a young Thai soldier. To him it was just a target he had been observing for the past week or so. The act was for a noble cause, the liberation of Pattani from the infidels, Abdullah told himself. Abdullah said he drove up to the young soldier that he had been monitoring and pumped three or four shots into him -- he doesnít remember the exact number -- at pointblank range. But he wasn't about to get away with this attack so easily. A soldier in the vicinity grabbed his rifle and shot Abdullah as he was speeding away on the back of his motorbike.

"I donít know how many rounds hit me but I was in tremendous pain," Abdullah said.

The two sides entered into a fierce gunfight that lasted several minutes. Abdullah was able to catch a quick breath of air when the soldier had emptied his magazine. It was also at this moment that his driver decided to flee, leaving him lying on the roadside in a pool of blood, where he was taken into the custody of security forces. 

Five weeks later after the shooting, Abdullah broke his silence and began to speak to a military counselor.

"There are many people out there who continue to think and feel the way I used to. There are people who would be willing to take up arms against the state if they were approached," said Abdullah.

"Today we see a bomb go off here, police officer gets shot there. It's not going to end any time soon. There are many insurgents still out there," he added.

It's not known what kind of leniency the court will show for his assistance to the Army. Whatever the outcome, a young wife and a newborn child await him at home.

Don Pathan
The Nation, Pattani 

Battle is on for hearts and minds in the South

Govt walking a fine line between security and sensitivity

Don Pathan
The Nation

Last August a team of police officers headed by then Pattani police chief Colonel Manit Rattanawin marched confidently into Ban Banna village to arrest a suspect believed to have been behind a spate of killings of security officials in Thailand's deep South over the previous year.

A team of journalists was permitted to come along to videotape and photograph what Manit thought would be a simple surrender by a suspected Muslim separatist.

The photo-op that developed turned out to be rather different than the one the journalists had expected. Instead of surrendering, Mahama Mae-roh, a former Army rifleman, grabbed his assault rifle and ran into a nearby house. He positioned himself, took aim, and fired, killing Manit, another senior police officer, and a sergeant.

Ten minutes later a team of reinforcements arrived and within half an hour Mahama was killed.

Intelligence sources said the information on Mahama's whereabouts had come from his associate, Manase Jeh-da, also known as Nasae Saning, who was nabbed in Malaysia's Terengganu State and quietly handed over to Thai officials just days before the shooting in Ban Banna. Manase, on Thailand's wanted list for years, had a Bt200,000 bounty on his head.

On the same day Manase, having mysteriously escaped custody, was shot dead by police in Pattani's Nong Chik district, some 28 kilometers from Ban Banna.

In the following days, subsequent sweeps through the region netted two more associates of the dead Muslim separatists.

This display of swift and deadly justice did little to comfort the local Muslim community, who still remember the heavy-handed tactics of previous decades when Thai security forces used questionable means to take down local Muslim separatist groups such as Barisan Revolusi Nasional and the Pattani United Liberation Organisation.

National media reported the harsh words of Manase's wife and other family members, who claimed Manase was the victim of extra-judicial killing. They pointed to the bruises on his wrists and other parts of his body, saying he had been beaten before he was shot dead in what they believed was an evening of the score.

Authorities described both Mahama and Manase as operation chiefs of the Pattani Islamic Mujahideen Movement, known in the Bahasa Malaysia language as Gerakan Mujahideen Islam Pattani (GMIP).

GMIP has been on the radar screen of security agencies in the deep South since the mid-1990s but authorities generally dismissed them as bandits involved in extortion and killings.

But last Sunday, when a group of about 60 armed men stormed an Army base in Narathiwat, killing four soldiers on guard duty and making off with some 300 weapons, Thailand's political leaders realized they could no longer deny the GMIP's ideological influence.

The GMIP has been singled out as the main group behind the attack, which came as a slap in the face to the country's political and military elite, who had repeatedly dismissed any suggestion that a Muslim insurgency might be brewing in the South.

The attack made a mockery of the "ordinary bandit" label that political leaders had placed on those behind the violence in the region.

Many officials here dismissed outright the age-old "dirty business" theory that attackers steal weapons only so they can sell them to Malaysian or Indonesian insurgents to make money. It would have been far less risky for the GMIP to go to the Cambodian border, like the Burmese rebel groups do, to buy their weapons, local officials said.

What impressed many military commanders and observers of the South was the tactical competence of the assault.

Traps were set up on the roads to prevent troops from going after the attackers and both relay poles for wireless telephone communications in the area were taken out.

Security officials on the ground have said for years, albeit quietly, that the GMIP is more than just a bunch of "ordinary bandits", or "jone kra-jok" in Thai.

Security officers admitted that the GMIP is as well known for its criminal ambitions as for its religious convictions, but said the group has conveniently found a new "political context" in the global Jihadi movement, which arose in the early 1990s in the aftermath of the war against the Russians in Afghanistan.

Though GMIP leader Nasori Saesaeng – also known as Ae Wae Keleh after his home village of Keleh in Bachoh district of Narathiwat – may not have fought against the Russians troops, he did gain a wealth of experience when he went there in the early 1990s to take part in the civil war.

Which Afghan factions or warlords he fought under remains unclear but sources believe that his experiences in the war-torn country inspired him to return to southern Thailand to carry out insurgencies.

It has been reported that while in Afghanistan, Nasori befriended Nik Adli Nik Aziz, the son of the spiritual leader of Parti Islam se-Malaysia, a Malaysian opposition party with a stronghold in the northern part of the country bordering Thailand.

Thai intelligence sources said Nik Adli, who has been detained since late 2001 under Malaysia's draconian Internal Security Act, maintained close relations with Nasori after the two returned to their respective countries from Afghanistan. The two men helped set up an organization on their respective sides of the border – the underground Kumpulan Mujahideen Malaysia as well as the GMIP.

Since the attack against the Army battalion last Sunday, the government has submitted a list of names, most of them suspected GMIP members, to Malaysia requesting their arrest.

It is not certain to what extent the Malaysian authorities will stick their necks out for Thailand, said one Army intelligence source, saying Kuala Lumpur wants to be extremely certain of the consequences of its actions before it moves.

Nevertheless, in Thailand, the admission by political leaders of the existence of a home-grown separatist group has brought some relief to officials because it permits them to speak more openly about the problem and deal with it accordingly.

However, they insist that the heavy-handed tactics of the previous decade are a thing of the past. The catchphrase, for the time being, is how to "win the hearts and minds of the local Muslim community".

"In the old days they used to go after family members of the separatists to put a squeeze on them," said one local politician who spoke on condition of anonymity.

Today, military and police officers on the ground have been told to be extremely careful when dealing with suspects who are community or religious leaders. This may explain why those who have been brought in by the authorities are merely being "detained" and not formally charged with any crime.

Regardless, many officials acknowledge that there is a lot of hard work ahead of them. Corruption and interagency rivalries, along with the inability of state agencies to deal with the cultural and economic gap between the South and the rest of the country, have obstructed the process of healing between the predominantly Muslim region and the central government.

One senior security official said today's insurgents have split into small cells, many of which have penetrated local communities. This makes it extremely difficult for authorities to take the organizations down, he said.

Moreover, resentment and hard feelings between the local population and government officials have again resurfaced following the declaration of martial law in the three southernmost provinces of Yala, Narathiwat, and Pattani, and the imposition of curfews has drawn a strong reaction from the communities here.

Heavy-handed methods may be a thing of the past, but winning the hearts and minds of the local Muslim population, it seems, remains as difficult as ever. 

Shan State Army kicks the habit but gets little respect

Don Pathan

Special to The Nation

Myanmar's notorious narco-army is reinventing itself in the name of peace, but the govt isn't listening

Back when Shan drug baron Khun Sa reigned over the notorious Golden Triangle, there was nothing pretentious about the narcotics business in this lawless region where opium warlords play for keeps.Opium, they said, was as good as gold. Some of the local residents were even using it in place of the official currency.Today, groups like the Shan State Army (SSA), which once fought alongside Khun Sa for Shan independence, are working hard to reinvent themselves as drug-free armed ethnic outfits with their own counter-narcotic policies.The opportunity to assert their anti-drugs campaigns came after the Myanmar government decided to push for a series of political reforms and renegotiate a ceasefire deal with the armed ethnic armies, including the SSA.Opium eradication and crop substitution became common ground on which the two sides could work together to strengthen confidence and trust.

But that process has been far from easy. The government has other priorities during this transition period and cooperating with Shan rebels is not high on the list.The SSA feels it has been shunned, but the ill-feeling is not enough to turn back the clock to when the two sides were at each other’s throats on the battlefield.Opium has always been a part of Myanmar’s longstanding insurgencies.For the numerous armed ethnic armies fighting the Burmese military for autonomy or independence during Khun Sa’s time, opium was main the source of income.

Residents in Thailand’s northern border provinces, as well as the ethnic Shan and other anti-Burmese junta forces, didn’t mind if men like Khun Sa were producing and trafficking opium and heroin if it was in a good cause.In January 1996, following a relentless assault from combined forces of the Burmese and troops from the United Wa State Army (UWSA) – dubbed the world’s largest armed drug-trafficking outfit – Khun Sa decided to surrender in exchange for amnesty.Certain factions in Khun Sa’s Mong Tai Army (MTA), like the one led by warlord Maha Ja, joined peace talks in exchange for limited self rule.

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Others, like Colonel Yawd Serk, relocated his troops near the Thai border to set up the Shan State Army-South and continue the fight against the government.Yawd Serk’s decision not to join the Burmese junta served the Thai military quite well. Burma and Thailand at the time were engaged in a quiet proxy war fought via ethnic armies.This explains why rebel forces fighting the Burmese junta were not considered a threat to Thailand. On the other hand, those with a ceasefire agreement with Rangoon, were considered a threat by Bangkok.Khun Sa’s MTA was slightly different because the outfit was not under “Myanmar’s legal fold” but was not exactly a Thai lackey either.And so when his MTA fell apart, Yawd Serk’s SSA had to turn to Thailand to ensure that his security and economic lifeline remained intact.As part of their effort to shake off the ghost of Khun Sa, the SSA pushed through an anti-narcotics campaign with drug-burning ceremonies to attract the attention of foreign and local media.

The UWSA, the world’s largest producer of heroin, was not exactly public-relations savvy, but nevertheless tried to convince the world that it, too, wanted to kick the habit.In late 2004 the Wa leadership said they were planning to announce an end to opium cultivation in exchange for formal recognition from the Burmese government and the world community.

But in January 2005, a New York court indicted eight Wa leaders, some of whom, like the notorious Wei brothers and the Bao brothers, had already been convicted on heroin trafficking charges in the US.Chinese security officials had hush-hush working relations with the Wa and were hoping that an “opium-free” UWSA would make their dealings with the Wa leaders easier. 

Nevertheless, ties between the UWSA and the Chinese authorities are as strong as ever.Wa officials often joke about how disappointed Burmese officials are when they visit the UWSA base, Panghsang, and find “it feels like a Chinese town”. From the cellphone signal to the currency and language, the Wa-controlled area in Burma’s Shan State is very much an extension of China.The UWSA wanted a better relationship with Thailand. Much of Khun Sa’s territory along the Thai border was occupied by Wa troops who began to build towns and small cities and pack them with villagers the UWSA had forcibly relocated from the Chinese border.

Many of these villagers died along the way, according to a report by Chiang Mai-based Shan Herald Agency for News (SHAN), but the end result was the strengthening of UWSA regiments along the Thai border.It has not been a comfortable stay for the UWSA troops. Gunfights occasionally break out between the Wa and Thai troops. Just about every border crossing leading to the Wa stronghold has been shut.As for the SSA, the changing nature of its relationship with the Myanmar government has given it another chance to show the world it is serious about kicking the habit. But going “cold turkey” has been a rough ride.

The SSA’s political wing, the Restoration Council of the Shan State (RCSS), in October 2012 entered into a joint pilot project to eradicate drugs with the UN and the Thein Sein government. This past week, the group issued a statement accusing the Myanmar government of dragging its feet over the project.“The experience of the RCSS in attempting to carry out the joint drug eradication project indicates that the agreement is only on paper and the government has no intention of cooperating on drug eradication,” said the RCSS, adding that the “government’s failure to adhere to its agreement is affecting trust-building in the peace process”.

The very fact that the SSA is urging the government to get moving on the project shows how things have changed in the region.The SSA may want to turn Shan State into a drug-free area, but the reality on the ground shows it faces a long and tough road. According to a recently released annual United Nations report, opium production in Myanmar has risen 26 per cent since 2012. 

This year marked the seventh consecutive year poppy cultivation has increased in the country. Some 870 tonnes of opium was produced this year, the largest amount since 2002.Until there is a meaningful political and economic alternative for the area, opium production, it seems, will continue to form a large part of the locals’ livelihood.Don Pathan is a freelance consultant and an independent security analyst based in Thailand.

https://www.nationthailand.com/opinion/30223306

Tocsins for Thaksin and His War on Drugs

Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra declared his controversial war on drugs a victory. But the battle may have just begun. 

Don Pathan
The Irrawaddy

Just when he thought he was flying high, Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was quickly brought back down to earth when former Thai Third Army Commander Gen Wattanachai Chaimuangwong insisted that the war on drugs is far from over. 

On the very day that Thaksin boldly declared the war on drugs a victory, Wattanachai quickly pointed out that millions of methamphetamine pills, known locally as yaa baa, are sitting on the Thai-Burmese border awaiting transport into the kingdom. 

Another setback for the poised Prime Minister came two days later. In his annual birthday speech, His Majesty the King raised the question of accountability regarding the deaths of some 2,500 suspected drug dealers. The government had claimed that all but 30 of the deaths were merely a matter of "bad guys killing bad guys." 

The King called on the government to investigate these deaths and explain them to the Thai people as well as to the international community, including the European Union and the United States. 

Throughout both phases of the heavy-handed campaign, which officially began on Feb 1, human rights groups and members of the international community, including the EU and the US, have raised concerns over the extrajudicial killings. 

Observers said that Thai-US relations could be at risk because of America’s Leahy Amendment, which prohibits the US government from giving aid to any foreign agency responsible for gross violations of human rights, including extrajudicial killings. 

Should the amendment become law, it could very well damage the cozy relationship between the two countries, especially in the area of counterterrorism. The passing of the amendment may also effect Thailand’s decision to join the US-led war in Iraq, where about 450 Thai troops are helping coalition forces rebuild the country. Another tocsin for Thaksin came just days ago, when Narumi Yamada, senior program management officer for the UN Office of Drug and Crime, said that the rise of amphetamine-type substances (ATS) in Southeast Asia could become the world’s most severe drug problem. 

"The region faces the threats of ATS, which has turned into an alarming epidemic in Southeast Asia, drawing younger consumers, offering large profit margins," Yamada said. 

"Whilst law enforcement alone cannot control this menace," she told the gathering, held annually to exchange ideas with law enforcement agencies, "law enforcement agencies have an undoubtedly critical and indispensable role to play—and urgently." 

According to figures released before the war on drugs, Thailand was the world’s largest per capita consumer of methamphetamines, with five percent of its 63 million people thought to be users. The war was aimed primarily at the amphetamines flooding into Thailand from the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle, where drug warlords and their armies operate with impunity. 

The current administration believes the war was won. But the key factors that have enabled the illicit industry to prosper for decades remain intact. Many see the campaign as a calculated effort to please voters, who are tired of seeing drugs in playgrounds and on the streets. 

Indeed the level of public frustration over the drug problem resulted in overwhelming support for Thaksin’s harsh measures, while issues such as transparency, accountability and due process went by the wayside. Observers say that there has been a clear psychological impact on the illicit drug industry in Thailand, but that it’s just a matter of time before the industry recuperates. 

Chinese business associates of the United Wa State Army (UWSA), a 20,000-strong pro-Rangoon outfit considered by the US government to be the world’s largest armed drug trafficking group, said Thaksin’s campaign caused a drop in methamphetamine orders coming from Thai dealers during the height of the killing spree in the first stage of the campaign. Despite the slowdown, Wa commanders and other Golden Triangle drug lords are still in business. 

Though income from drugs still accounts for a sizeable portion of their income, they have begun to diversify. In their respective domains, as well as on the Chinese side of the border, the drug lords have invested in fisheries, hotels, casinos and telecommunications. Regarding supply, the chemicals needed to produce methamphetamines are still plentiful and readily available. 

Traffickers take advantage of the porous border linking Laos and Burma with China, where these chemicals are legally produced. Under the second stage of Thaksin’s war, the government was supposed to pursue big-time distributors and their political backers. US authorities reportedly provided Thai officials with a list of Thai nationals allegedly involved in drug trafficking.

And the Thaksin government claimed to have a blacklist of its own. But judging from the growing number of shoot-outs between drug caravans intercepted by Thai soldiers as they cross from Thailand into Burma, the war’s psychological effect may be waning. 

Over the past three years, Thaksin has twice witnessed strains in Thai-Burmese relations. The border between the two countries erupted in February 2001, as both sides traded shells and rockets following disputes over territorial rights. And in May of last year, the Thai Army crossed what they considered to be an un-demarcated border area and then destroyed scores of labs belonging to the Wa and other drug armies. Recriminations came from the top brass of both countries as a result. 

Since then Thaksin has worked hard to mend ties with Rangoon. His strategy is to push trade with Burma in the hope that the country’s drug-infested northeast frontier would say no to drugs if the area was more developed. But so far he has not demanded that trade be linked to improved narcotics suppression by Rangoon. 

Meanwhile old Burma hands believe that the drug war is doomed to fail without an adequate political settlement between the military junta and the ethnic nationalities, some of whom have signed ceasefire agreements but remain armed. Until a settlement is reached, they say, Thaksin’s "victory" will only be a temporary one. 

Don Pathan is a journalist based in Bangkok.