It was only when I was posed some real questions from my journalist friends in China and Vietnam over the past couple of weeks that I managed to pull myself out of my old manner of thinking about the current political vacuum. Back home, we have been snowed under with so much speculation and twisted logic that we've simply lost sight of the big picture.

Or have we simply been too afraid to ask the most obvious, if embarrassing, questions?

The most common question I was asked during my trip was one a Vietnamese journalist friend asked: "Didn't Thaksin say he had quit? Didn't he say he would not return until a new election took place?"

My response was a low mumble about the difference between a "break" and a "resignation". I didn't have the courage to tell my friend that we Thais had gone on to other, perhaps less relevant issues now. In other words, we have stopped demanding that Thaksin live up to his pledge.

Then came an even tougher question: "Is Thaksin really back in office or not?" That really caught me off guard. "Yes", I said. "Thaksin is back. But he isn't really back. He's supposed to be a caretaker, although he shouldn't be there."

I didn't feel like engaging in a long debate about interim politics with my friend. So I shot back a question of my own, hoping it would deter him from posing any more questions that would further reveal my political ignorance: "Do you mean to ask whether Thaksin is in charge of running the country or not?"

My friend offered a knowing smile. "Either that or who's really in charge?"

I didn't have a ready answer, so I countered with another question. This time, I was quite sure I had him pinned down: "Are you suggesting there is a political vacuum in Thailand?"

I could sense his frustration. The topic of Thai politics tends to be very complex in ways that very few can appreciate, but he indicated that was not something Thais should take pride in: "I'm only suggesting that you should tell the outside world, loudly and clearly, what's happening in your country. And keep the pride of being able to confuse others at all times to yourselves."

Then he proceeded: "Let me ask you a very simple question. Is there going to be a new election on October 15?" He apparently had been keeping a close watch on current events in Thailand.

"Yes and no," I declared, trying to be as loud and clear as possible.

"That means you still don't know whether the Election Commission you have now is a legal entity or not," he said, without waiting for me to elaborate on the supposed election date.

I tried to assuage him by stating that whatever happened, there would be a general election and probably before the end of the year. I also tried to salvage the country's political reputation by suggesting that the three remaining election commissioners would sooner or later realise they could not keep hanging in there and dragging the country down the drain. I even stuck my neck out and predicted the trio would quit by the end of this month, hoping that would help restore his faith in Thailand's political reputation.

"What if another election is held, and Thaksin's Thai Rak Thai again wins overwhelmingly?" He was looking ahead of all the current political hassles, claiming to be an incorrigible optimist in regard to Thai resilience.

I told him we would have to play by the rules of the democratic game, that the people would decide who's to run the country.

"You are avoiding my question. I know Thaksin, with all his money, can win the next election. But can he govern this highly divided society that he's created?"

There are no stupid questions, only stupid answers. So I told him I didn't know the answer to that.

Suthichai Yoon