LONG LIVE THE KING

Kenan Institute Asia Offices, Queen Sirikit Convention Center, Bangkok (November 15, 2006) Americans tend to think of monarchies as fairly silly stuff. We dumped ours in 1776, and the British have done little in the two hundred thirty years since to make us second guess that decision.

Like England, Thailand is a constitutional monarchy. But the comparisons end there.

Thais love their King.

I mean, they really love their King.

Let me give you an example. On my first Monday in Thailand I dropped by the Kenan Institute, which is in a large convention center named in honor of Queen Sirikit. In addition to being a convention center, it houses many offices and businesses. When I walked into the Institute’s office, I couldn’t help but notice that there were quite a few people wearing bright yellow golf shirts that bore the royal insignia on the left breast – the place where you might otherwise expect to see an alligator or little polo player.

I was hard pressed to find anyone in the office not wearing such a shirt. Even Paul Wedel, the director, sported one.

It seemed clear enough to me. This was the official Kenan Institute shirt. “I guess I’ll need to get me one of those,” I thought to myself.

When I left the office at closing time to head back to my apartment, I noticed there were people wearing the same shirt all over the convention center.

My first thought was that the Kenan Institute had a lot more employees than I had originally thought. Then, it dawned on me. It wasn’t the Kenan Institute shirt, it was the Queen Sirikit Convention Center shirt! That explained the royal crest where the alligator would otherwise have been. Everyone who worked at the center wore the shirt.

The convention center has its own metro stop, and as I stood at the platform waiting for the subway, it made perfect sense that I would be surrounded by hundreds of people all wearing the same bright yellow golf shirt. I felt pleased that I was understanding more and more about Thailand with each passing minute.

At Asok Station on Sukhomvit Road, I transferred from the subway to the skytrain. As I rode the escalator to the elevated platform, I was somewhat surprised to see so many Queen Sirikit Convention Center employees milling around waiting for the train.

And when the train arrived, it was filled with hundreds more Queen Sirikit employees, all of whom must have boarded at an earlier stop. I noticed some had small embroidered logos on the sleeve or below the collar on the back. These, I surmised, were the names of their employers whose offices were in the convention center.

When I exited the skytrain at Phrom Phong, I noticed hundreds more people, all wearing the same shirt.

As I walked down Soi 22 toward my apartment, I noticed shopkeepers and store clerks wearing the shirt as well.

I began to doubt my carefully reasoned conclusions about the significance of the ubiquitous yellow shirt.

“All right, I give up” I said to Paul the next day. “What’s the deal with all the yellow shirts?”

As he has done with other mysteries about Thailand, Paul explained this one to me as well.

Thailand’s King Bhumibol was born on a Monday. And 2006 is the 60th anniversary of the King’s ascension to the throne. In honor of their King, and in recognition of their esteem for him, Thais wear the yellow golf shirts with the royal insignia on Mondays.

And here’s the thing. No one makes them do this.

And Thais aren't exactly the sort of people you expect to be mindless automatons or brainwashed lemmings.

So when you see the sidewalks, skytrain platforms and shopping malls of Bangkok awash in a sea of bright, rich yellow on Mondays, you are left with one inescapable conclusion.

Thais love their King.

They really love their King.

When Paul explained the whole yellow shirt phenomenon to me, a lot of other things sort of fell into place.

The boarding ramps at the new Suvarnabhumi airport are covered in bright yellow and bear pictures of the King and the words “Long Live the King.”

These are not political signs or the shameless self promotion you might expect from elected officials. These are the genuine expression of a consensus viewpoint of the Thai people.

When you travel around the city, you see images of the King and Queen everywhere. On subway platforms, in taxi cabs, in big department stores and in little corner shops. Expressions of good will for the King are to be found literally everywhere.

Paul explained to me that King Bhumibol has taken great care to conduct himself as the Buddhist embodiment of what a king should be. He does not meddle in the daily affairs of state. He leads by example and by his own good works. He champions the causes of the poor and less fortunate. He has spent decades living up to the ideals of selflessness and service.

Paul explained to me that Buddhists place great stock in the concept of “making merit” – of doing good works during one’s time on earth. By this measure, King Bhumibol has made great merit for himself.

In fact, Paul describes the King’s power not in terms of his ability to send armies into battle or to win riches or wealth for himself or his family. Paul describes the King’s power by using the Buddhist term barami – the power that comes from accumulated merit. The idea is that if a person does enough good works in his life, power flows naturally to him, a power recognized by all as emanating from the merit he has made in his life.

To the people of Thailand, King Bhumibol represents the living embodiment of a very good man.

As you may know, there was a bloodless coup in Thailand a few months ago. Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was removed from power by the military.

Thaksin was Thailand’s first truly powerful prime minister. He had been elected twice by the people of Thailand by commanding margins. He was a political force for the 21st Century. He embraced globalism and democracy and championed the cause of Thailand’s rural poor.

Elections were supposed to be conducted later this year, and many felt Thaksin would be reelected. But Thaksin had his share of detractors, especially in Bangkok. In recent years he had entered into audacious business deals of dubious legality and had begun to make encroachments into both military and royal affairs.

In the months leading up to the coup, Thaksin spoke of persons that were out to get him – figures that were trying to upset his plans for the country and frustrate his efforts to lead. He wouldn’t identify these enemies specifically, speaking only vaguely of shadowy figures in the background, plotting against him.

Many foreign observers have speculated that Thaksin was referring to the King or to his close advisors. Whether the King had a role in the matter or not is irrelevant.

The point is this. The most powerful elected politician in Thailand’s history did not dare mention the name of the King or his advisors in connection with the turmoil that swirled around him in his final months.

To have done so would have sealed his political fate more surely than any military coup.

Thais love their King.


A POST SCRIPT REGARDING THE THAI MONARCHY

It may interest you to know that the movie and story of The King and I is banned in Thailand.

While censorship is a larger issue that always raises issues of freedom and individual rights, the banning of The King and I was not an entirely Orwellian matter. In fact, it represents something of a consensus view among the populace.

The story is considered deeply offensive to the Thai people and their culture.

And for good reason. It simply isn’t true,

The king that is the subject of the story, King Mongkut, was one of Thailand’s most forward-thinking rulers. A learned man and an enlightened leader, his palace employed Anna Leonowens for a time to teach English to his children.

The story of Anna’s fabled relationship to the king is just that – a fable, devised by Anna in an effort to advance her own financial and societal interests.

The only mention of Anna Leonowens in the papers of King Mongkut’s administration is reported to be a reference to her appended to the end of what appears to be a shopping list.

Perhaps the most interesting story of all, however, is not the fictitious nature of The King and I (which is well-settled among scholars) but the story of Anna Leonowens herself.

Ms. Leonowens contrived a detailed story of her background, painting a picture of a refined lady of breeding who fell upon financial misfortune and found herself in the employ of the royal court of the King of Thailand, to which she was to bring an air of culture and enlightenment.

According to an essay I read recently, after the story of The King and I had been debunked as a fanciful myth, a researcher took it upon himself to inquire not into the facts of Ms. Leonowens’ account, but rather into the facts of Ms. Leonowens herself. The story that had been generally accepted up until that time (the one Ms. Leonowens had told of herself) quickly unraveled in the face of fact-checking.

Ms. Leonowens, it appears, was a woman of a lower class and of a somewhat questionable reputation who essentially reinvented herself to enhance her stature. In the process, she spun a largely fictitious tale that maligned a respected leader and aggrandized both her standing in the court and in society at large.

Thais are renowned as a kind, polite, fun-loving and genuinely warm people. While they may not dwell on the story of the The King and I, and may prefer simply to smile and forgive, the story remains an insult and an affront, and their ban on the book and the movie serve as a reminder of that fact.