New political lessons for Thai students

Press, 21 December 1976, Page 9

New political lessons for Thai students

By BRIAN EADS, of the Observer Foreign News Service Bangkok If the bloody and brutal events at Thammasat University which ushered in Thailand’s military coup in October were reminiscent of a dismayed parent giving his insubordinate children a sharp rap over the knuckles, then the country’s wayward youth face the prospect of bed without supper for a long time to come. University students make up less than 0.05 per cent of the Thai population, and the “Panyachon,” or “intellectuals,” as they are usually called, had long regarded .themselves as the conscience of the nation. Access to Western ideas and the limelight of Bangkok’s political theatre had them playing to packed, often approving audiences throughout the early seventies. But in the mind of the traditional power elite, there was far too much ad-libbing. Now there is to be a return to the stiff and stylised dramas of earlier times. Whether they be teenagers or infants, the Thai students’ day will henceforth begin with the raisx ing of the national flag, the singing of the national anthem, a brief eulogy on the King, the Nation, and the Religion, and charac-ter-building physical jerks. From this firm foundation, the rest of their days will be devoted to bolstering respect for the “three national institutions,” and rather than turning out inquiring and dissenting minds which might pose a “threat to national security,” Thai educators are to aim for dogmatic anticommunist patriots whose roots are firmly in Thai culture and Thai values devoid of any side stepping flirtations with Mao or Marx. Millions of subversive books and pamphlets were seized and burned in the

days after the military seized power, and in future all school text-books will be screened by an official committee. Any inclining towards socialism, “stressing class differences between people and leaning towards communism,” will be destroyed. The Education Ministry wants 2,000,000 Baht (SIM) to fill the gap left by . the book burning, and the new works will depict the lives of Thai national heroes and ancient kings, with plays based on the exploits of war heroes who fought against the Burmese between the sixteenth and eighteenth cerp turies. Patriotic songs will figure high in the musical curriculum. The teaching of all forms of political theory, including democracy, "is banned, in all institutions save the universities, to prevent students from raising questions about “the system.” In the universities there will be basic courses in comparative political ideologies so that “students, knowing the truth, will not fall prey to communist propaganda.” Politics on the campus is banned. There are to be no political parties, no political rallies, and no political debate. Instead, students are to be encouraged to concentrate on their formal studies, and take more interest in sport, music, and Buddhism, University applicants will undergo strict screening, especially aspirant teachers. With their potential to influence future generations of the young, the criteria are to be that their teaching does not “endanger national secure ity,” and that they demonstrate unfailing support for the King, the Nation, and the Religion. The National Students Centre of Thailand, villain of the October 6 drama, has been dissolved, its offices ransacked, its funds appropriated, and its

literature destroyed. Three years ago its leaders were the martyred heroes of the uprising against the military; now six of them are in jail awaiting trial on charges of les majeste. Conformity is the new ground rule. Male students will be required to dress in white shirts and dark, plain-coloured trousers. Shirts are to be tucked in, and shoes must not show their heels. Girls must wear white blouses and dark, plain-coloured skirts, and if the shoes do not cover the heels of the wearer, they must have rounded heels, with buckles. And just in case all these measures are insufficient to quell the flames of student dissent, the teaching of the Chinese language is to be restricted. The fear is that knowledge of Chinese will make the young more accessible to Maoist ideology. This month the troops were pulled out of the Thammasat University campus, and beneath walls still pockmarked from the thousands of rounds loosed off on October 6, Buddhist monks and Brahmin priests exorcised the demons and attempted to appease benevolent spirits. The University is back in business, albeit not the business as usual of mass rallies and audacious ultimatums. According to the authorities, about 1 per cent, or 1000 students, have failed to register at their universities, and they judge that those who went to ground or into the steamy jungles will soon tire of the discipline and uncomfortable conditions. It might be that for many, the prospect of becoming a well-paid, if blinkered, nationalist dialogue holds more attraction than becoming an illfed and harassed revolutionary ideologue. But then it might not. — O.F.N.S. Copyright,