BOOKS

The King and Who?

By D. J. ENRIGHT THERE is nothing particularly enigmatic about Thailand in itself. The mass of the popula- tion consists of simple, kindly souls living more

or less in accordance with a simple Buddhist ethic. They are ruled by military-business men obeying no ethic whatsoever. Because of the world situa-

tion and Thailand's situation therein, the demo- cratic nations are apparently obliged to lend

support, both economic and what is amusingly called 'moral,' to whichever military-business boss happens to be in power. Not unnaturally these bosses incline to put down as 'Communism' any internal gestures towards 'a more democratic government.

Hence very few politically educated citizens--- People whose opposition to Communism is moral and valid—are emerging. Either you accept the

corruption of your country (there are worse things, the rice still grows) or you turn Commun- ist. The latter course is risky as well as repugnant

to deeply ingrained Thai feelings. The former is humiliating. A sense of humiliation is in fact 11 Widespread among the more intelligent young People; but we don't pay much attention to them.

We are engrossed in fighting what we foreigners call 'the battle for the Asian mind.' Let us look briefly at what we—or 'we'—are doing in this sr battle.

Whatever we can do to improve the standard of living of the people we must do. Colombo ,Plan assistance, Fulbright and British Council grants, all are beyond criticism, so long as award is made by merit and not to gratify some important per- sonage. My reservation is utilitarian rather than

inoral. Importance' of this sort generally doesn't last long in Thailand, and our target should he the unimportant young, since what hope there is for future political stability rests with them. To sentimentalists like myself, the activities of mili- tary missions are bound to smell rather high : why presume to make bad soldiers out of good Buddhists, the military condition of the world being what it is? But I won't labour this personal Prejudice.

'Post offices, a state airline, television, national Prestige counts for more than the abolition of Poverty and.disease,' observes Mr. Barnett in 'a

book* which, for all its imperfections, conveys loore of the 'feel' of contemporary Thailand than 41131 other account I have seen. 'It is all very lop-

sided,' Every country has its vanity. But surely the givers of foreign aid retain the right to ensure that

they are not merely administering to national

—let alone personal—pride. By courtesy of America, an atomic reactor is about to be in- stalled on the graceful campus of Chulalongkorn

University, despite the fact that local scientists 11 are nowhere near the stage at which such appa- ll rates could be of use to them and it is doubtful whether students are even put through convert- tional laboratory work. At the same time the Arts 11n MASK OF SIAM. By David Burnett. (Robert ale, 18s.)

_ mats even. But his title is mere catchpenny. Sam Faculty cannot afford an LP record-player and every library request has to be fought for. Mr. Barnett remarks that the death-rate from rabies is higher in Thailand than anywhere else. Cer- tainly the sight of pye-dogs, hideously red and green with rot, is enough to frighten tourists back into their lush hotels. The poor slobbering creatures (the dogs, that is) even slink through the classrooms where Michigan University ex- perts are revealing the mysteries of morphology and phonemics to students who still don't learn how to put six words of English together. Foreign residents will tell you that this profusion of dis- eased dogs is due to Buddhist reluctance to take life; possibly the same foreigners are working to make efficient soldiers out of the same reluctant Buddhists. One sometimes suspects that foreigners not only discovered the mysteriousness of the East but also created it.

It would be impertinent to praise the medical and social achievements of Christian missions in Thailand. And mission schools, especially the Catholic, still provide the best primary and secondary education in the country. But Chris- tian proselytising in the modern simplified-and- abridged manner tends to produce merely simple- minded prigs. First Commandment : 'Thou shalt not smoke.' Second Commandment 'Thou shalt not drink.' Third Commandment (one which most clean-living Thais set themselves, understand- ably): 'Thou shalt not mix in politics.'

What of our educational missions? I always imagined that someone who was supposed to teach literature, or history, should teach litera- ture, or history. But things are never as simple as that. On assuming power, Marshal Sarit stepped up the campaign against subversion. No doubt there were some Communists among the students, refugees and suchlike who were arrested. When a British teacher visited his pupils in prison (they were not ill-treated, no one has yet trained the Thais to run efficient concentration camps), some wag greeted him, 'It's all your fault, sir. You taught us to think for ourselves!' With the in- creasing officialisation of British teachers abroad, perhaps a stop can be put to this sort of teaching. Though in that case I don't quite see how the teachers are to convey 'the British way of life.' This latter took a hard knock several weeks ago when police uncovered a Communist cell in a durian orchard on the outskirts of. Bangkok. Among the confiscated documents, put on show at the Ministry of Culture, was a Teach Yourse!f Russian—published in London.

The educational value of literature has long been suspect, of course. Yet until recently Britain maintained a professorship at Chulalongkorn University. Unfortunately the last incumbent (my- self, I hasten to admit) was withdrawn for com- mitting such un-British activities as publishing poems in the New Statesman. Withdrawn by the British—the Thais were not consulted.

But things are never as simple as that. And the full story is not irrelevant to our inquiry. The pre-

text for the Professor's withdrawal was as follows. One night, as he and his wife were on their way home, fifteen drunken policemen emerged from one of the city's ubiquitous brothels, beat up the Professor (not too badly, for Thais are charac- teristically mild), and threw him into gaol on what turned out to be a charge of assaulting the police in the execution of their duty. In order to avert a scandal which might have thrown Thailand into th hands of the Reds or at least caused Marshal Sarit to reach for his gun whenever he heard the words 'British Culture,' the Embassy adopted the line that the Professor, drunk on a heady mixture of beer and unstatesmanlike poetry, had indeed assaulted those poor policemen. The Professor disagreed, but was told that his version did not ring true since the behaviour therein alleged was 'not characteristic of Thai policemen.' My Thai colleagues found nothing out of the ordin- ary in my story, they'd always doubted whether Thai policemen were characteristic of Thais. Ah well, there are bound to be casualties in the battle for the Asian mind.

Thailand is chock-a-block with Western mis- sions and agencies, whereas the Russians are hardly visible. Yet the danger of internal subver- sion persists. What is the insidious charm which Communism exerts in this part of the world? Perhaps an Observer correspondent came near to the answer when he drew a contrast between the American official with his big car and the Com- munist agent on foot. apparently poor, certainly hunted. Which figure appeals more to the peasant, who understands what poverty is and, simple- minded though he may be, understands how big cars are come by in the capital? We know what democracy isn't, but alas, we don't seem very sure of what it is. Too often we send abroad, not helpers to help or teachers to teach, but profes- sional anti-Communists to profess anti-Com- munism. .

I have no political axe to grind, and I have de- clared the chip on my shoulder. Simply, I cannot believe that one can fight effectively against Com- munism without fighting for something. Mr. Barnett's reference to the Foreign Office members whom he met in Thailand as 'Bertie Wooster types' is a cheap cartoonist's sneer. Yet it is true that some of our representatives do not appear to be lighting for anything which the Asians them- selves are particularly keen. to preserve. Despite everything, Eastern people have a vast respect for the Western way of life, for our cul- ture (of which, theyaknow, literature is so great a part): Is it good, then, is it clever, to send to repre- sent our culture the sort of man who groans with dismay if a writer enters his territory? Is it good, is it clever, to send to represent our way of life the sort of people who lead a life mil generic? But if I say, that the wife of one diplomat was once heard to denounce the Mwu Guardian as 'Red,' I shall be accused of a cheap cartoonist's sneer. . . .

Anna Leonowens—King Chulalongkorn's pro- fessor—achieved so much, single-handed! Per- haps we should leave the Thais to themselves. It happens that they have something of their own ,o fight for. They love life.

The Mask of Slain is ill-written, poorly illus- trated and inaccurate in details. But what counts is that the writer had, as he claims, fresh eye.' An amateur with no line to shoot, Mr. Barnett observes assiduously and reports modestly. On policemen—'it is peculiar, this fear of the police, but I noticed it everywhere 1 went'—he shows himself more perceptive than some senior diplo- wears no mask. It is we foreigners in Siam who favour disguises. Who are we taking ia?