Author: Nicholas Farrelly
With the release of Melbourne man Harry Nicolaides from his Bangkok prison cell Thai authorities no doubt hope an archaic French legal term will fade from Australian memories. Lèse majesté—the crime of insulting the monarch—has given the tourist-friendly “Land of Smiles” unusually bad press.
In recent months images of a forlorn Nicolaides, manacled and pale, have been broadcast into millions of Australian living rooms. His crime was so petty and his punishment so draconian that many have asked: what is this law and why is it enforced?
The answer is not simple. Lèse majesté is a political crime. It is in place because Thailand’s royal family—supposedly above the political fray—does not want to defend itself from scurrilous public attention or offence. In theory the law should quietly protect the king and the dignity of his family.
In practice things are very different. Accusations of lèse majesté are regularly made against political opponents and some parts of the Thai bureaucracy see fit to challenge dissenters with the charge. It is not just obscure Australian authors who fall foul of it.
Nicolaides’ case was meant, no doubt, as a warning to the writers, journalists, academics and others who comment on Thai political affairs. At a moment of intense national uncertainty, at the end of a very long reign, it is only natural that the palace will be subject to more critical coverage.
It is probably also natural that the Thai establishment will attempt to stifle any real debate or discussion about what lies ahead.
Some Thais, mostly unheralded, are currently incarcerated for the same crime as Nicolaides. On this point there is almost no Thai reporting. And what the international coverage usually ignores is that while Harry is free others still languish in prison hell.
The Australian government’s good efforts in securing Harry’s release will count for little if the law that saw him locked up is now quickly forgotten. Unjust laws, whether in Australia or anywhere else, are a concern to us all.
Who are these unfortunate Thais? There is Boonyuen Prasertying who was charged with lèse majesté for speeches she made at a political rally in Bangkok. Helpless, she turned herself in, pleaded guilty, and is currently serving a 6 year prison term.
Daranee Chancherngsilpakul, widely known as “Dar Torpedo”, also made political outbursts that have seen her locked up. She has yet to go on trial.
Others who have been accused include Thanapol Eawsakul, the editor of Fah Diew Kan, a Thai magazine that has been brave enough to defy the law; Sulak Sivaraksa, a prominent academic who
was most recently charged with lèse majesté in November 2008; Suwicha Thakor, an engineer who has been arrested for Internet postings alleged insulting to the monarchy; and Suchart Nakbangsai, who has reportedly fled the country to avoid arrest.
Then there is the case of Chotisak Onsoong, a young activist and social critic, who has been accused of insulting the king for refusing to stand during the royal anthem in a Bangkok movie theatre. He then
made a point of continuing a campaign against the law: “not standing, different thinking is no crime”.
And there is Anglo-Thai academic Giles Ji Ungpakorn who recently fled to the United Kingdom to escape
his lèse majesté charge. He is now actively campaigning for a Thai republic. This past week he has made speeches in London, Oxford and Cambridge to ram home his message about Thailand’s
incomplete democratisation.
Now freed of the constraints that curtail debate about the role of the monarchy in Thailand, Giles Ji Ungpakorn is becoming something of a celebrity for the cause of free expression. His case exemplifies
what is muddle-headed about lèse majesté. It merely attracts more attention, almost inevitably negative, to the royal family. Even a cursory search of the Internet makes this plain.
Right now, commentators are not sure how many other lèse majesté cases are currently working their way through the system. It is, however, very likely that others, given all the secrecy, have yet to come
to public attention. Helpfully, information on many of these cases is becoming much easier to find through online guerrilla campaigns. Nicolaides benefited from the power of the Internet to keep his case on the agenda.
Now that he has been pardoned his freedom is to be welcomed and celebrated.
But whatever royal mercy has been shown it is tempered by the lingering feeling that the whole episode was designed to send a message to the world about the limits of free speech in Thailand.
With that message ringing in one ear we should not be afraid to point out that lèse majesté is a blunt instrument for protecting the royal institution. The great irony of the law’s current enforcement is that it
weakens the very family it seeks to protect.
Moreover, during Thailand’s current period of national transition there is surely a need for more open discussion of the palace’s role in society. Thais looking to continue such a conversation are increasingly finding that they can only do so outside the country. And even then…
Nicholas Farrelly is the co-founder of New Mandala, a blog on mainland Southeast Asian affairs.
With the release of Melbourne man Harry Nicolaides from his Bangkok prison cell Thai authorities no doubt hope an archaic French legal term will fade from Australian memories. Lèse majesté—the crime of insulting the monarch—has given the tourist-friendly “Land of Smiles” unusually bad press.
In recent months images of a forlorn Nicolaides, manacled and pale, have been broadcast into millions of Australian living rooms. His crime was so petty and his punishment so draconian that many have asked: what is this law and why is it enforced?
The answer is not simple. Lèse majesté is a political crime. It is in place because Thailand’s royal family—supposedly above the political fray—does not want to defend itself from scurrilous public attention or offence. In theory the law should quietly protect the king and the dignity of his family.
In practice things are very different. Accusations of lèse majesté are regularly made against political opponents and some parts of the Thai bureaucracy see fit to challenge dissenters with the charge. It is not just obscure Australian authors who fall foul of it.
Nicolaides’ case was meant, no doubt, as a warning to the writers, journalists, academics and others who comment on Thai political affairs. At a moment of intense national uncertainty, at the end of a very long reign, it is only natural that the palace will be subject to more critical coverage.
It is probably also natural that the Thai establishment will attempt to stifle any real debate or discussion about what lies ahead.
Some Thais, mostly unheralded, are currently incarcerated for the same crime as Nicolaides. On this point there is almost no Thai reporting. And what the international coverage usually ignores is that while Harry is free others still languish in prison hell.
The Australian government’s good efforts in securing Harry’s release will count for little if the law that saw him locked up is now quickly forgotten. Unjust laws, whether in Australia or anywhere else, are a concern to us all.
Who are these unfortunate Thais? There is Boonyuen Prasertying who was charged with lèse majesté for speeches she made at a political rally in Bangkok. Helpless, she turned herself in, pleaded guilty, and is currently serving a 6 year prison term.
Daranee Chancherngsilpakul, widely known as “Dar Torpedo”, also made political outbursts that have seen her locked up. She has yet to go on trial.
Others who have been accused include Thanapol Eawsakul, the editor of Fah Diew Kan, a Thai magazine that has been brave enough to defy the law; Sulak Sivaraksa, a prominent academic who
was most recently charged with lèse majesté in November 2008; Suwicha Thakor, an engineer who has been arrested for Internet postings alleged insulting to the monarchy; and Suchart Nakbangsai, who has reportedly fled the country to avoid arrest.
Then there is the case of Chotisak Onsoong, a young activist and social critic, who has been accused of insulting the king for refusing to stand during the royal anthem in a Bangkok movie theatre. He then
made a point of continuing a campaign against the law: “not standing, different thinking is no crime”.
And there is Anglo-Thai academic Giles Ji Ungpakorn who recently fled to the United Kingdom to escape
his lèse majesté charge. He is now actively campaigning for a Thai republic. This past week he has made speeches in London, Oxford and Cambridge to ram home his message about Thailand’s
incomplete democratisation.
Now freed of the constraints that curtail debate about the role of the monarchy in Thailand, Giles Ji Ungpakorn is becoming something of a celebrity for the cause of free expression. His case exemplifies
what is muddle-headed about lèse majesté. It merely attracts more attention, almost inevitably negative, to the royal family. Even a cursory search of the Internet makes this plain.
Right now, commentators are not sure how many other lèse majesté cases are currently working their way through the system. It is, however, very likely that others, given all the secrecy, have yet to come
to public attention. Helpfully, information on many of these cases is becoming much easier to find through online guerrilla campaigns. Nicolaides benefited from the power of the Internet to keep his case on the agenda.
Now that he has been pardoned his freedom is to be welcomed and celebrated.
But whatever royal mercy has been shown it is tempered by the lingering feeling that the whole episode was designed to send a message to the world about the limits of free speech in Thailand.
With that message ringing in one ear we should not be afraid to point out that lèse majesté is a blunt instrument for protecting the royal institution. The great irony of the law’s current enforcement is that it
weakens the very family it seeks to protect.
Moreover, during Thailand’s current period of national transition there is surely a need for more open discussion of the palace’s role in society. Thais looking to continue such a conversation are increasingly finding that they can only do so outside the country. And even then…
Nicholas Farrelly is the co-founder of New Mandala, a blog on mainland Southeast Asian affairs.
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