The political invention of a Thai class war between the poor and the rich effectively injected power into the red-shirt movement, but it has also dangerously accelerated the creation of precarious social divisions in Thailand.
In the current political conflict, academics and peace activists' resounding support of the red shirts' class politics is due partly to a pro-poor view as an antidote to inequality, and partly to resentment of the military's role in politics and the royalist connections of the government.
But there is danger in this class politics that errs on the side of the poor, making it difficult to keep the political complexity in sight. Painting the red-shirt uproar as a simplistic dichotomy of the rich and the poor, democracy against dictatorship, is to misunderstand the power struggle among the political elites that underpins the whole conflict.
When pro-red sympathisers depicted the conflict as a dead end, because of their preoccupation with the poor - who felt that the military's ousting of former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra was unjust - more productive discussion on other fundamental issues became peripheral.
During the red-shirt protest, academics came out to redefine "non-violence" to justify the hardcore red shirts' violent actions, turning a blind eye to the fact that armed militia groups were operating alongside the ordinary red-shirt supporters. The very concept of non-violence was torn apart when this alliance with the armed militia was not taken seriously by academics. None of Thailand's peaceful, pro-democracy student demonstrations in the past were armed.
Many academics have given the impression that the only issue was the oppressed poor versus an illegitimate government, but the red-shirt movement was a result of complex political manipulation.
Though many of the poor are Thaksin supporters, mobilisation has involved a well-coordinated network of Pheu Thai politicians and canvassers in villages, districts and provinces, and an efficient political propaganda machine.
There was recruitment, incitement and outsource financing to foster a climate of political violence. There were red-shirt schools, radios, magazines, phone-ins, video-links, militia training, and a stockpile of weapons. The conditions have been geared towards cultivating extremism, which the masterminds can manipulate to suit their specific interest and defeat their political enemies.
Yet, these fundamental issues of political manipulation and mass radicalisation are not being addressed. In fact, they have been covered up and countered by a set of representations: Thaksin has won the hearts and minds of the poor; the protesters were willing to die for democracy; the poor can think for themselves; nothing was wrong in paying the red shirts to join the protest; the middle class has double standards in ignoring the state's killing of red shirts; the yellow shirts' court case on the airport seizure did not proceed; the government censored and closed down red-shirt media, but not those of the yellow shirts. The list is long. What complicates the matter further is that all these arguments are right, however partially.
Another important issue that has been shied away from in discussions is the paradoxical union of strange bedfellows - the wedding of an ultra neo-liberalist tycoon and leftist extremists, young and old. The strength of the red-shirt movement has been this synthesis that succeeded in tapping each other's expertise. The extremists have skill in membership organisation and a powerful propaganda campaign based on the language of liberation and class inequality. Thaksin has funds, a party and canvassing network, a mass support base and, last but not least, an armed militia - which became evident as the one behind much of the violence during the deadly clashes. The late renegade Major General Kattiya Swasdiphol, who worked for Thaksin as militant leader before his assassination, disclosed publicly Thaksin's success in setting up an armed force as part of the movement's "three crystals", which also include the party and the masses.
How capitalism and communism joined hands in the campaign has never been scrutinised by academics. The lese majeste law conveniently becomes a culprit and justification for outbursts of dissastisfaction with the monarchy expressed by radical intellectuals and red-shirt campaigners. If the intention is truly about constructive and rational discussion on the monarchy in a changing world, the method would be to seek public dialogue to set rules about mutually acceptable standards for debate on this highly sensitive issue. The symbolic use of words - a class war between "prai" and "ammat", literally "surf" and "feudal elites", and the creation of a new Thai state suggested otherwise. The irony was that a large section of the red shirts, mainly royalist rural folk, had no idea about the extent to which this symbolic language went. Indeed, in the academic arena, there was more about blame on the state, less about red-shirt demagogues' duty to respect others' rights, and a weakness in rational discussion on the true agenda of the unrest. The possibility to work out alternatives was lost.
The problem lies in thinking that only the state, which is allied with the military, is repressive. When the abstract term "democracy" becomes a fort from which we wage war, the implicit rationale is that the red-shirt movement can do no wrong. If the recent violence in the name of the "pro-democracy" red-shirt uprising and the coup in 2006 can be seen and compared in review, the result would be a paradox. The coup, a crime against democracy that ousted a democratically-elected billionaire prime minister, was totally bloodless.
Conversely, the pro-democracy battle - with its own armed force - was the cruellest of its kind in the modern history of Thai politics. Apart from the visible damage to Bangkok, the injuries and loss of lives, the masterminds of this mini war took not only the Bangkok public and downtown businesses hostage, but also the red-shirt masses themselves. Innocent people became the tools and victims of the political elites' power struggle. In addition, human rights abuses under the Thaksin regime are still vivid in the memory today. The massacres of Thai Muslims in the Krue Se and Tak Bai incidents in 2004 left 32 and 85 people dead respectively; each incident lasted only a few hours. The case of 2,500 extrajudicial killings in Thaksin's "war on drugs" remains his legacy.
Many academics suggest that the government should move beyond Thaksin and redress social inequality. Conversely, there is also a need for Thaksin himself, and academics, to get over the notion of the 2006 coup as the cause of the political conflict, and to let the country move on. It is unproductive to keep rewinding the political clock to before the coup, to justify Thaksin's struggle to return to power. The easy narrative of Thailand's Robin Hood - that Thaksin is the protector of the poor, a symbol of democracy and a victim of the coup - needs to be abandoned.
In the aftermath of the clashes in Bangkok, there is an emerging consensus to move towards rehabilitation and reconciliation. This must begin with an apology to all victims of violence - the wounded, families of the dead, and those who have lost their livelihood. The red-shirt leaders cannot deny responsibility for starting the unrest and provoking violence in the full knowledge of imminent danger and damage. The government and the Army must also apologise for the losses that the military operation caused, even in self-defence and the necessity of restoring normalcy.
There must also be a process that will facilitate a forum for dialogue among victims of the violence on all sides. The trauma can be a good starting point for victims to share their pain, express what they feel, and to discuss an appropriate platform from which divergent sides can seek a middle ground for reconciliation. In the climate of mistrust, as it is, an independent body to investigate the loss of lives, injury and destruction of buildings, is necessary.
On the social front, one positive sign is the plan for social reform in which community workers, intellectuals and grassroots communities can formulate a long-dreamed-about people's assembly. The social charter might be a product of this participatory process. As one component in Premier Abhisit Vejjajiva's reconciliation plan, the chances for media reform are also open. The complex, growing environment of media outlets - including cable television, the Internet, community radio, print and others - is throwing up the necessity of seeking an appropriate approach for monitoring the media. Where does the boundary between freedom of expression and abuses lie? And what sort of mechanism is best to ensure media accountability? These questions require serious debate.
Another crucial task ahead is to address the commitment among Thais of different social, cultural and economic backgrounds to re-learn, to live together peacefully once again. Wealthy Thais must learn to give back to society through tax reform, which would allow the government to provide reasonable welfare and allow fairer distribution of resources. Reconciliation will be about building bridges to reach out and create trust between the middle class, the urban elites and the poor, who feel their voices have not previously been heard. It requires a profound reorientation.
Can Thailand avoid emulating a Khmer Rouge phenomenon, in which two million Cambodians - educated, intellectual, elite, as well as poor - were executed or died of torture and starvation in the process of establishing an agrarian communist society? This question should be addressed to Thaksin and the secret leadership of extremists within the red-shirt movement, as well as to the urban middle class, educated elites and the government.
The seeds of hatred that the masterminds of this class politics - the extremists and the liberal capitalist and his proxies - have sown are now sprouting. It is possible that the armed elements will fight a guerrilla campaign and that plans for subversion may already be underway. It will take decades to contain such violence, heal the wounds of hatred, and reconstitute a viable Thai society.
If we need to redeem our traditional values of mutual understanding, tolerance and compassion, as part of reconciliation and nation-building, we also need to acknowledge and respect our differences. Reconciliation is best understood as a social project that requires lengthy dialogue and the accommodation of contradictions and unease. How this can be achieved in practice and why we should embark on this task is now open for imaginative discussion among all sections of the public.
The author is a former environmental journalist with The Nation, now living in Denmark.
This is Part 2 of a two-part series that opened on Wednesday.