Thaksin breeds ‘suicide-bomb’ journalism
 The Nation
December 1, 2005 - First came the outbreak of Thaksinomics five years or so ago, with the “Thaksin syndrome” as a subtext. Now what we see is the dramatic side effect of Thaksin Shinawatra’s “Whose side are you on?” guiding principle: “suicide bomb” reporting.
When it all began, you were told that if you wanted to survive this new era of roller-coaster politics, you had to make up your mind where you stood on the political front. You were either on Thaksin’s side or his enemy.
Some in the press circles went on full alert. Others were cowed. Still others went searching for an expedient way out. In the process, the frightening politics-power-money juggernaut brought about the dumbing down of the journalistic world, especially on television and the radio. “News chat” programmes mushroomed, replacing serious interviews and investigative reportage. News became trivialised, critical issues sidestepped. Personalities, not substantive or animated debate, dominated the air waves. Thaksin’s henchmen kept the lines into all the newsrooms busy with “suggestions” on what should constitute “real” news values. News anchors were reduced to insensitive storytellers. A pat on the back (verbal or otherwise) from the prime minister himself was considered the achievement of the day. Thaksin bullied independent elements in the press by making intimidating comments in his public statements.
With the kind of poilshed subtlety that could almost be mistaken as a high art form, some in the journalistic world chose to jump on the bandwagon. Many turned into Thaksin apologists, some more callously than others. A few even bent over backwards to ingratiate themselves with Thaksin by pointing fingers at their journalistic colleagues for being critical of the PM, whom they romantically labelled as a member of their fraternity.
Thaksin’s apologists in the media were the insiders. Those toeing the line in regard to the dumbing down of the media were on the second tier as Thaksin’s unofficial advocates. Those ordinary, powerless members of the working press trying to live up to their public commitment to remain free and independent were left to fight the daily pressures from all circles within the government. They were variously called “outsiders”, “outcasts” and the “regular critics”.
The insiders had access to exclusive information and, through that power and money machinery, full support from the advertising departments of state enterprises and major conglomerates related to the powers that be. The outsiders got caught in a web of constant intimidation, both in public and behind the scenes. While the insiders managed somehow to convince their readers that they were the real mavericks of the “new” brand of politics under Thaksin’s dazzling rule, those charged with trivialising the news on television and radio saw their ratings soar like never before.
Somewhere, somehow, the ties that bound the Establishment with the media insiders snapped. Even now, it’s not clear how the unfathomable intimacy dissipated. Contrary to appearances on the surface, the break-up didn’t happen overnight. In such a highly charged political atmosphere, in which both sides tried desperately to impress a good image upon their respective constituencies, conflicts of interest inevitably emerged. The straw that broke the camel’s back probably came sooner than expected, but then, when ambition and expediency clash head-on, all hell can certainly break loose. Concern for press freedom and democracy is obviously not the whole story. The real, hard-fought struggle for press freedom was not an isolated incident hijacked by any particular person or group of people. The unrelenting fight against Thaksin’s threats was there even at the height of the collusion between the insiders/apologists and Thaksin himself.
Now the Thaksin syndrome has produced its latest and highly potent side effect in the world of journalism. What we see now is a kind of “go for broke” reporting, which I call “militant journalism” in its most dramatic form - a 360-degree turn-about that has yet to play out fully.
The stakes are high for both sides. The public is divided into sympathisers, agitators, sceptics and the plain confused. But there is no question that all this has stirred unprecedented interest in what in effect is still a blurry picture of perplexity: is this a fight between two ex-comrades with interwoven, mysterious political and business interests? Is this about democracy and freedom of the press? Is this an accident? Or is it the outcome of a well-orchestrated plot of intrigue?
In this battle between the forces of militant journalism and autocratic rule, both sides will force us to take sides. Militant journalism is in effect a facet of the Thaksin syndrome. In other words, Sondhi Limthongkul’s suicide-bomb mission against Thaksin was the unintended outcome of Thaksin’s very own original offensive to co-opt the press, by hook or by crook. We must make sure we don’t allow ourselves to be taken hostage in this explosive confrontation.
Suthichai Yoon
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