By Andrew Nette
and Angela Savage
BANGKOK — On May 18, we were close to Rajdamoen Avenue, where police and the military had opened fire on pro-democracy demonstrators the night before, and where protesters were still holding out. The sporadic firing of M16 rifles in the near distance sounded like firecrackers.
Despite the gunfire, the streets were full of people. Convoys of young men on motorcycles ventured closer to the danger zone, returning with reports of what they saw. People congregated around makeshift barricades, some with cellular phones to their ears, to receive and exchange information.
A respectable-looking, middle-aged Thai man saw us taking notes and ushered us closer to the barricades, pointing out a notice which had been pasted there — a photocopy of the front page of that morning's English language newspaper, the Nation. It featured a photograph of four baton-wielding riot police brutally clubbing a lone demonstrator who was already doubled up on the ground. That edition of the paper had later been recalled.
"Everyone knows that Suchinda has taken away our papers", the man said. "Everyone knows that the military are killing people, that they have many guns, and all we have is our bare hands. But that is all we know."
Media censorship, particularly an electronic media blackout, produced chaos and confusion at the height of the pro-democracy uprising. As the mostly military-controlled electronic media lost all credibility, the people fought back with technology. Using fax machines, mobile phones, photocopiers and video, an alternative news network sprang up virtually overnight.
Fax messages publicised ongoing demonstrations at a time when television newsreaders claimed all protests had been dispersed.
Family-based news clearing houses were established, drawing on information intercepted on police and army radio. Short-wave radio and satellite TV accessed international news items censored from local media. Video sent from Thai nationals and sympathisers abroad provided graphic footage of military atrocities, while Thai television broadcast only images of injured police and soldiers.
There was even an unlikely story in circulation that the king's belated intervention in the crisis was due to how little he knew about the situation until his daughter, Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn, telephoned from France to relate what she had seen on French TV.
In the wake of Suchinda's resignation, demands have increased for a review of media control and ownership in Thailand. Award-winning TV journalist Chakkraphan Yomchinda was allegedly forced to the military-owned Channel 7 as a result of death threats directed at him and his family. Channel 11 staff, meanwhile, participated in a "silent" anti-Suchinda protest by wearing black — no doubt partly to restore their shattered credibility.
Of the two main English language dailies in Bangkok, Bangkok Post editor Paisal Sricharatchanya has come under some criticism for his decision to refrain from publishing articles in the May 18 edition, following government prohibitions on material "detrimental to national security, safely or inciting public unrest". In leaving blank spaces where material had been removed, however, the paper made a powerful statement about the effects of censorship. By contrast, the Nation thanked its audience for its support during the crisis and claimed "There was not one moment when we had second thoughts about reporting the truth of one of the most crucial chapters of Thai history".
The high tech nature of the alternative news network reflects the mostly middle-class nature of the anti-government protests. The middle class has cut its teeth on media liberalisation through private ownership of Thai newspapers.
Thailand's five TV stations remain under military control, but this may not last much longer. The managing director of Thailand's only TV news company actually left town during the crisis because he had nothing to do.