At quarter past eight in the morning on August 6, 1945, an American B-29 plane dropped an atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. The explosion wiped out 90 percent of the city and killed 80,000 people; tens of thousands more would later die of radiation exposure. Three days later, a second B-29 dropped another atomic bomb on Nagasaki, killing an estimated 40,000 people. Japan’s Emperor Hirohito announced his country’s unconditional surrender. The war in Asia between the British empire and their American allies against imperial Japan was over.

But the end of the war led to a new set of conflicts, with Britain’s colonies in Asia making a renewed push for independence. This led to tensions between Washington and London, because the Americans had publicly committed to the liberation of colonised countries around the world, while the British wanted to hang on to their empire.

Thailand was an early flashpoint. According to official Thai history, the kingdom was never colonised, but in reality it had been effectively a colony of Britain since 1853, and the British regarded Siam as being firmly in their sphere of influence. The Thai monarchy and the British had collaborated for almost 200 years. But when the Japanese invaded Thailand in December 1941, in order to conquer Malaysia and Singapore, the Thai government acquiesced and (under Japanese pressure) formally declared war on Britain and the United States. The Americans never took the declaration of war seriously, but the British wanted to impose sanctions after 1945. Besides wanting to win back their influence over Siam, they also wanted control of the kingdom’s rice crop, which was essential for feeding their colonies in Asia.

Britain and America were still allies, but they had also become rivals, at odds over the future of Asia.

The British had long been trying—unsuccessfully— to have Ananda educated as an English gentleman. [You can read my article on their efforts here.]

In December 1945, the British provided an aircraft for Ananda and his entourage to fly back to Siam. Long-distance air-travel in the 1940s took several days and required several stops. The royal party spent time in Cairo, Karachi, Calcutta and Rangoon during their trip. They arrived in Bangkok on December 5.

On December 23, American agents in the OSS, the forerunner of the modern CIA, invited Ananda and Bhumibol to visit a Free Thai camp. Alexander McDonald, a U.S. agent who later founded the Bangkok Post newspaper, gave the king a Colt .45 pistol as a gift.

During World War Two, one of Britain’s royal family, Lord Louis Mountbatten, was appointed Supreme Allied Commander for the South East Asia Command by Winston Churchill in 1943. Like most of the British royal family, Mountbatten was related to German aristocracy. At his birth in June 1900 he was known as His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Battenberg. He was the youngest child and the second son of Prince Louis of Battenberg and his wife Princess Victoria of Hesse and by Rhine. After war erupted between Germany and Britain in 1914, the British members of the family abandoned their German titles in 1917.

As commander for South East Asia, Mountbatten tried to promote Britain’s interests in the region, at a time when they were diverging from what America wanted. There were significant tensions between the British and Americans on how to handle Siam and how to deal with the Free Thai movement. Mountbatten became close to Prince Subhasvasti (codename “Tan Chin”) who ran the free Thai in the UK, and Pridi Banomyong (codename “Ruth”) who organised the movement within Thailand. There were tensions with the U.S. members of the Free Thai movement, in particular the royalist Seni Pramoj who hated and feared Pridi.

In January 1946, Mountbatten — still in his role as South East Asia commander—flew to Bangkok to try to salvage British influence in Siam.

Mountbatten and his entourage flew from Singapore to Bangkok on Friday, January 18, in three Douglas C-47 Skytrain “Dakota” aircraft with a large escort of Spitfire fighter planes.

After landing, he changed into his full military dress uniform for an audience with King Ananda. He described the meeting in his diary, memorably describing Ananda as “a frightened short-sighted boy, his sloping shoulders and thin chest behung with gorgeous diamond-studded decorations; altogether a rather pathetic and lonesome figure” who “hadn’t got a clue”. He added that “it is only seventy years since all Siamese, however important, had to prostrate themselves before the King”, not knowing that, far from being a relic of the past, later in the 20th Century prostration would become routinely expected again:

The Master of the Protocol arrived to give us instructions on the procedure at the audience, and accompanied me to the Palace. We arrived at the Royal Grand Palace at 1640, in great pomp, with 16 British and Siamese police outriders. In the outer courtyard a Guard of Honour in khaki was drawn up and in the inner courtyard a guard of Honour of the Siamese Guards Regiment, in scarlet uniforms. Fifes and drums played continuously as we mounted the main marble staircase, which was lined by the Guards Regiment in full dress, and by the Siamese Palace Guard in medieval uniform with blue sarongs pulled up between their legs, and ancient spiked blue and gold helmets.

We were met by the Lord Chamberlain and various notables and Court officials, and were marshalled in one of the main waiting rooms.

We were then led to the Great Throne Room, and as we arrived colossal double doors were thrown open, revealing a colossal room with very ornate Victorian decorations. Down the length of the Throne Room were drawn up the Senior Statesman, the Prime Minister, members of the Cabinet, and Commanders-in-Chief of the Siamese forces in white full dress. At the distant end, in front of the high golden throne which was mounted on four tiers, and which stood under a ceremonial umbrella of nine tiers, stood a frightened short-sighted boy, his sloping shoulders and thin chest behung with gorgeous diamond-studded decorations; altogether a rather pathetic and lonesome figure.

We advanced in a series of short rushes, stopping every ten yards to bow simultaneously taking our time from the Master of Ceremonies, who walked beside me. It is only seventy years since all Siamese, however important, had to prostrate themselves before the King.

When I arrived in the presence of His Majesty King Ananda Mahidol, his nervousness increased to such an alarming extent, that I came very close to support him in case he passed out. He whispered a little halting speech of welcome in so low a voice that I had to bend forward to catch what he said.

The programme had said we were to have ten minutes’ conversation, but after his first speech His Majesty never volunteered another remark. It was clearly impossible to observe the royal protocol of not speaking unless His Majesty spoke to me, and I therefore carried on a monologue as best I could, obtaining replies from the King only if I put him a direct question, such as: ‘Is your Majesty going to remain in Siam?’ Reply: ‘No.’ Question: ‘Does your Majesty plan to go back to Switzerland?’ Reply: ‘Yes.’ Question: ‘I believe we have the honour of dining with your Majesty tonight?’ Reply: ‘Yes’, etc., etc.

As there was no sign of the King dismissing me, I finally said: ‘I feel I should not detain your Majesty any longer.’ Reply: ‘Thank you.’

We then withdrew backwards for the first ten yards, and bowed. We were then allowed to turn about for the next ten yards, and turn about again and bow; after which we were allowed to go as far as the main doors before all turning round again and again bowing.

Hollywood could not possibly have improved on the King’s first State Audience.

I feel I must digress at this moment to describe the situation in which the Boy King finds himself. Some 40 years ago, a small baby was found in a basket and taken to the Queen (the present Queen grandmother), where she was brought up and became an additional maid to Her Majesty. When the time came for her to earn her own living, the Queen kindly offered to pay her expenses to train her for any profession she desired. The foundling girl chose to become a registered nurse, and was accordingly sent to America to be trained.

The Queen’s youngest son in the meanwhile was a qualified doctor attached to an American hospital. His Royal Highness met what was probably the only Siamese woman in American medical circles, the foundling probationer nurse. They fell in love, and were married. They produced three children, a daughter (who is unfortunately married to the son of the leading war criminal of Siam) and two sons. They settled at Lausanne, in Switzerland, and then the Doctor Prince died. I gather that to the Prince’s medical knowledge and energy much of the extremely up-to-date system of public health in Siam is due.

Some 12 years ago, King Prajadhipok, his elder brother, abdicated in favour of his nephew, the 8-year-old Ananda Mahidol, and his foundling princess became the Princess Mother. They paid a brief visit to Siam but were so horrified by Siamese Court life that they hastily returned to live at Lausanne. Here they led an extremely secluded and simple life, the King and his younger brother taking their studies very seriously. He has at present completed two years out of the four years’ course in Swiss Law, and as he told me later, his life’s ambition is to take a degree as a Doctor of Law: Swiss Law, incidentally, not Siamese!

Meanwhile the country had been run by a Regency Council, of which the outstanding member was Nai Pridi Pranomyongse, who was given the title (which he has now abandoned) of Luang Pradit.

The 1942 Prime Minister and Government of Siam were violently pro-Axis, and as soon as they heard of the sinking of the Prince of Wales and Repulse, came to the conclusion that the Allies’ number was up, and declared war on the British and Americans. The British accepted the declaration (indeed they could hardly do otherwise, since Siamese soldiers ranged themselves with the Japanese against us on the boundary of Burma). The Americans, however, who saw no prospect of a physical encounter, rejected the declaration. Thus I was put in an extraordinary position, in my integrated Anglo-American Headquarters, of finding that part of my staff was at war with Siam, whilst the other part was not. This anomalous situation has now been put right by the agreement to terminate hostilities, signed in Singapore on the 1st January. To celebrate this event, four days’ peace celebrations, to coincide with my visit, had been proclaimed, and everywhere throughout Bangkok flags were out, booths had been put up, and there were great gaieties and festivities throughout our visit.

The declaration of war took place whilst Luang Pradit was at his home near Ayuthia, and he, who has always been violently pro-British, rushed back and claimed that the declaration was illegal without his signature. It was however too late to undo the harm. Meanwhile, the Regency Council gradually disappeared, but whether they resigned or died I never found out.

Even before Luang Pradit became the sole Regent, he entered into negotiations with the Allies and in August, 1943, the very month in which the formation of the South-East Asia Command was announced, a significant but highly secret meeting took place in Chungking between the Regent’s emissary and a Lieutenant Colonel of the British Army who had taken the code name of ‘Arun‘. In reality this was a Prince of the Royal House of Siam, Mom Chao Subha Svasti. The Regent was allocated the code name of ‘Ruth’, and when I arrived in South-East Asia he placed the whole Siamese underground resistance movement, which he had been organizing, under my command and promised his fullest support as soon as we could come and drive the Japanese out of Siam. He also sent me a pair of cuff links, which I returned.

After leaving the Royal Grand Palace we drove to the Boromphiman Palace, which was within the walls enclosing these two palaces and the principal temples of Bangkok. Here we were received by the Princess Mother and her younger son. She was dressed in Siamese traditional costume, with a Grand Cross of an Order, and decorations; the younger son in white full dress, also covered with decorations. Unlike her sons, the Princess Mother was extremely talkative. She is extremely attractive and vivacious, and had I not known that she had a 22-year-old daughter I should have put her age at between 30 and 35. Incidentally, Siamese children are rated as one year old at birth; so that, although the King has nominally attained his 21st birthday, he has only been 20 years in this world.

I attacked the Princess Mother on the question of the King leaving his country again so soon after having come to it for almost the first time in his life. I pointed out how lucky it was that he had been recalled by the Regent and the underground movement, since in Yugoslavia, Belgium and Greece they had so far refused to have their King back. I pointed out the obvious danger of His Majesty leaving his country so soon to return to his studies, but was unable to shake HRH.

After a full hour’s talk, I drove back once more to the Royal Grand Palace, where a room had been set aside for me to change into khaki, as I had no fancy to parade round Bangkok in full dress; also I was anxious to avoid any chance of photographs being published, since I realized that it would be premature for European countries to see full dress photographs, whereas any lesser dress would have been almost out of the question at a State Audience, and the King had telegraphed his special directions from London that I should comply with the customs of the country and wear full dress.

I had decided to hold an all British Inter-service Parade and Victory March for the King of Siam as our contribution to the peace celebrations. I went to the parade ground for a rehearsal of what I was to do with the King the following day, and then we went to the saluting base for a similar rehearsal. After that we had a meeting to settle details of the next three days‘ programme. I did not get back to the Udorn Palace until 1850, and within an hour had to leave again for the Boromphiman Palace, in white mess undress. Here a state banquet was given by the King. I was received with the utmost ceremony and shown into the room which contained all the assembled guests by at least half a dozen bowing court officials, who then left me to find my way round the guests and introduce myself in turn. The Siamese notables had the advantage of me, since presumably they knew who I was, but as l was unable to catch their Siamese names and they did not give their titles in English, I was thoroughly bewildered. To add to the confusion, everyone wore white tunics with gold shoulder straps and medal ribbons. I knew that among them was the ex-Regent (whom I had corresponded with so frequently as ‘Ruth’), the Prime Minister, the Cabinet and Commanders-in-Chief, and all the high-court officials, but it was not only impossible to distinguish them from each other, but it was not even possible to distinguish them from the Court servants, who wore identical uniforms, though I later discovered that they had rather less gold on their shoulder straps. Even so, the Assistant Butler, who had been sent to run the Udorn Palace, ranked as a Captain in the army, and no doubt the King’s ‘Page’ holds field rank.

No sooner had I completed introducing myself than the doors at the other end of the room were flung open and the Royal Family entered, accompanied by a cohort of court officials, who remained bowing respectfully in the doorway whilst the unfortunate King was left blinking through his spectacles, obviously bewildered. Everyone bowed, and then an awkward pause ensued; so I came over towards him and shook hands and took him round the twenty or so senior British and American officers and presented them to him. After a further awkward pause, the King made a little gesture to me and then to my great surprise took me into dinner in front of the Princess Mother…

In fact, this had been the King’s first State Audience, first Parade and his first State Banquet, and there did not seem to be anybody who could tell him how to do it. I discovered during dinner that he had never seen any Royal procedure, had not read The Prisoner of Zenda, and had not even seen Hollywood’s version of how to behave as a King. In fact, he hadn’t got a clue!

I then told him as tactfully as I could how our King managed these affairs of state, and he took it all in with pathetic gratitude.

After dinner we all trooped into the garden, where there was a lovely open-air theatre. Here there was a command performance of old Siamese plays and dancing, including a Khon, or masked play, based on the old Indian Ramayanas. I can never describe the magnificent stage settings, or the gorgeous and expensive costumes that were worn; but by far the most striking thing was the graceful gestures of the dancers, and the pleasant rhythm of the two native orchestras. The music appears to be more tuneful than any I have heard in the Far East. Four armchairs had been placed in front by themselves for the Royal Family and myself, and throughout the performance footmen dressed as officers served us with orange squash and cigars on their knees.

The dancing took place on a carpeted space in front of our chairs, and the plays on a regular stage behind that. The orchestras flanked the carpet. Halfway through the performance, three very attractive dancing girls approached across the carpet on their knees, with a large gold chalice in which there was a collection of miniature masks such as were worn by the principal actors in the Ramayana. These they handed to the Princess Mother, who in turn presented them to me. The gold bowl, however, was not part of the gift, and this was fortunate, since I was under an obligation to give presents of equal value for all I received.

Ananda’s mother told Mountbatten that their visit to Siam would be brief, and that they would soon return to Lausanne for at least two years so that Ananda could finish his law degree. Mountbatten tried to argue that it was important that the young king should stay in Siam, but Sangwan was adamant.

The next day, Mountbatten accompanied Ananda, Bhumibol and Sangwan for a royal parade with British soldiers. As he said in his diary entry for Saturday, January 19, “this was to be a day on which I hoped to build up British prestige, since the protracted negotiations in which America had intervened had not served to improve Anglo-Siamese relations”. He again noted Ananda’s awkwardness and shyness: “There were colossal crowds in the streets, anxious to see their King almost for the first time. They were polite and bowed, and a few of them raised a faint cheer. The King sat immobile, looking nervously straight ahead. I finally leant across and said to him: ‘May I suggest that you should acknowledge the cheers of your subjects? Why don’t you salute and bow to them?’ He replied gratefully: ‘l’m afraid I am not very accustomed to this sort of thing.’ He then started acknowledging the cheers of the crowd, which immediately redoubled in consequence.”:

We left the palace at 1000 in a Rolls-Royce with a light blue very dashing Mulliner body. The King and I sat on the back seats and the Aide de Camp General on one of the small occasional seats. The chauffeur and footman were dressed in a uniform indistinguishable from the Russian Guards. We never got out of first gear the whole way, and were surrounded by British and Siamese motor-cycle outriders. The footman had a long silver trumpet, which had a stop to produce two notes. This he sounded every two or three hundred yards. I was gratified to see that colossal crowds had collected round the parade ground, for this was to be a day on which I hoped to build up British prestige, since the protracted negotiations in which America had intervened had not served to improve Anglo-Siamese relations.

The King had no idea what to do, but willingly carried out all the instructions I whispered in his ear. I was however unable to prevent him from carrying out his inspection at much too quick a pace. He looked straight in front of him, very nervously, and never once looked at the men he was inspecting. When the parade was over, we drove in a procession back to the Boromphiman Palace for a gossip, whilst the official spectators moved to the saluting base and the troops moved off to the starting point for the march-past.

After an interesting chat at the palace, the King and I once more drove in procession through the streets to the saluting base in Kingsway, a wonderful wide thoroughfare laid out by the late King. Unfortunately the building contractors were running a racket, and several of the houses collapsed before they could even be finished, which rather destroys the appearance of this lovely avenue.

There were colossal crowds in the streets, anxious to see their King almost for the first time. They were polite and bowed, and a few of them raised a faint cheer. The King sat immobile, looking nervously straight ahead. I finally leant across and said to him: ‘May I suggest that you should acknowledge the cheers of your subjects? Why don’t you salute and bow to them?’ He replied gratefully: ‘l’m afraid I am not very accustomed to this sort of thing.’ He then started acknowledging the cheers of the crowd, which immediately redoubled in consequence. The march-past was really first class, the prize being taken by the Queen’s Guard of Honour, in column of sixes…

I also called on the Senior Statesman, as the ex-Regent is now called, and on the Prime Minister, Seni Pramoj, who had recently spent five years as the Siamese Minister in Washington. He had been reputed to be anti-British, but during this visit showed himself increasingly friendly each day.

After dinner we all went on to the Thai Officers’ Club. Here we joined a party of the prettiest and sweetest little Siamese princesses imaginable. Although I danced with at least half a dozen, there wasn’t one of them who didn’t seem to he princess. They were all about four feet nothing high, tremendously attractive and vivacious, and very good dancers. The senior one was Princess Chambphot, who offered to take me on a shopping and sightseeing expedition; but the sweetest one was known as Ying Wun.

This club is completely open all round, with a swimming pool at one end and a revolving stage for the orchestra, so that a hot jazz band alternated with a native Siamese orchestra. Between the European dances Siamese girl dancers appeared and did some fascinating folk dances of a different style to what we had seen the night before, and if possible more seductive. Having not had much sleep the night before I was very sleepy, and had my leg pulled about this by the little Siamese princesses; finally staggering off to bed well after 0100.

The following day, Mountbatten was taken to the former Siamese royal capital of Ayutthaya. In his diary entry for the day, he complained about lack of sleep, and once again claimed that King Ananda “hasn’t got a clue!” He described dancing with Sangwan, after Ananda was too shy to take to the floor:

Once more I had to work from 0130 to 0330, and was called again at 0645, after much too little sleep.

We reached the ancient capital, Ayuthia, at 1130, and were received here, as usual, by a Guard of Honour and all the local officials in their full dress. We then visited the ruins. They took care to explain to me that it was the Burmese that had sacked and laid waste the city! The Senior Statesman was our host on this party, and this is his home district.

We embarked at 1240 in the magnificent Royal Barge, which has some lovely cabins in it, and a fine promenade deck with a dozen small tables at which lunch and dinner were later served.

At 1300 we stopped at the Panang Cheng Monastery, and went to the temple that contains the world’s largest Buddha. It is really a most impressive idol, bigger I am told than the Dai Butsu which I had seen in Japan. The figure is 61 feet high seated, so that the Buddha would be 120 feet high if erect. The little finger was over six feet in length!

We then went on down the river by barge until 1430, when we landed to see over the Barng Pa-in Palace. After half an hour we continued down the river. Small native huts have been built in a sort of ribbon development along the forty miles of river. It was dark by the time we reached the Siamese Fleet, moored on the outskirts of the capital. The fleet appears to be undamaged, and the Senior Statesman complained that we hadn’t sunk it and saved them its upkeep.

We finally landed at the Senior Statesman’s private landing stage by his house at 2015, and got back to the Udorn Palace just in time to change and leave again for the State Ball at the Ananda Semakhom Hall, which is a great marble building in the same park as the Udorn Palace. I was first told to be there at 2145, then I was asked not to come until 2158, in order to be there two minutes before the King, but the King was twenty minutes late, which just shows that he still hasn’t got a clue!

Meanwhile all the notables of Siam were awaiting him in the Great Hall where the State Ball was to take place. At my request full dress was not worn, since so few British officers had it, but those princes who had British decorations wore their stars. We trooped in a great procession to the raised dais in the centre of the ballroom, where chairs had been provided for the senior members of the Royal Family and myself. We then sat down and an awkward silence ensued. After a while the band struck up and played a lively foxtrot, but nobody dared to dance. After an interminable pause, I saw a Chamberlain approach Admiral Morse and whisper in his ear, after which the Admiral got up and invited one of the princesses to dance. My Siamese Military ADC, Chitchanok, told me that I had been told off to dance the first dance with my friend

Princess Chambphot, and after leaning over to the King and saying; ‘Isn’t your Majesty going to dance?’ and receiving a negative reply, I went off and danced with her.

When I came back I said to the King: ‘All over Europe it has always been the custom for the King to open each State Ball. Do you not think you ought to be dancing?’ Reply: ‘No, I have not yet taken sufficient dancing lessons.’ I spent the next ten minutes trying to persuade the young King to dance. Finally I said: ‘Your Majesty reminds me of a small boy sitting on the edge of a bathing pool on a very cold day and trying to make up his mind to jump in. If only you will take the plunge you’ll find you will quite enjoy it.’ He then took refuge in the answer he so often used: ‘Please ask my mother.’ The Princess Mother supported the King, and said: ‘He is not experienced enough to take the floor.’ I drew her attention to some British officers who were dancing nearby: ‘Look, Mam, these officers are not keeping time to the music! I’m sure the King could do as well as them without any lessons at all!’ She remained adamant and as she had already refused to dance with me herself, I got fed up and said: ‘I absolutely insist that one of you two dances. Either the King dances with one of the princesses, or I insist that you dance with me.’ She laughed good-naturedly, and said: ‘Well, if it has got to be one of us it had better be me,’ and to everyone’s intense astonishment she took the floor with me. The King however remained miserably shy and alone on his throne until midnight, when we all trooped down in a great procession to supper. After this he left, and as l was feeling very tired I too went home, although the ball continued unabated.

On Monday, January 21, Mountbatten was taken on a shopping expedition by Princess Chumphot. In his diary, he complained yet again about his lack of sleep, and also about King Ananda’s awkwardness. He also tried again to persuade Ananda not to leave Siam:

After again working until 0230, l was called at 0700, being by now some eight hours short of my usual sleep over the last three nights, and having only spent long enough in the Udorn Palace by day to change my clothes between items of the programme.

I left at 0850 to pick up Princess Chambphot for the promised shopping and sightseeing expedition. This really was great fun, and I bought all sorts of delightful souvenirs, including a picture of an incident in the Ramayanas.

At 1030 we were billed to start the sightseeing tour, and were shown the various palaces and temples in the Royal enclosure. The most interesting was the famous Emerald Buddha. The figure is only about four feet high, and is carved out of the rarest dark green glistening jade. It was taken some three or four hundred years ago from French Indochina, and the French were stupid enough to claim its return in their proposed peace treaty, which so enraged the Siamese that they broke off all negotiations, which have not yet been resumed. In fact part of the object of my visit was to try and induce them to renew negotiations. During my visit I pointed out to the King, the Senior Statesman and the Prime Minister that they could not possibly expect to hold on to the disputed territories, since the United Nations had decreed there should be no change in territorial boundaries as a result of the war.

The Emerald Buddha had just been dressed by Princess Chambphot’s husband in his winter clothing, and a colossal wooden ladder some fifty feet long led up the back of the golden pedestal on which the Buddha was seated. What interested me most was the mural painting, many hundred yards long, of the whole of the Ramayanas, which included the original of the little picture I had bought that morning.

We went on to the Great Swing and visited the Wat Sutaat Temple, finally getting back at 1230 to the Udorn Palace, with barely enough time to wash and brush up before leaving at 1245 for the Prime Minister’s magnificent offices and residence. Here an official banquet was given, with 75 guests, at which the Prime Minister and I had to make speeches. When he proposed my health the Siamese band played ‘Rule Britannia’. It was disconcerting after a quarter of an hour’s speech, which I had thought was going particularly well, to sit down in dead silence. None of the Siamese attempted to clap, and the British thought it would be bad form if they did. As I was complimented on the speech by a number of Siamese later, I realized that they had not meant their silence as an insult.

By this time a telegram had been received from the Foreign Office giving grudging permission for me to accept the highest class of the Order of the White Elephant, which is the principal order of Siam, and also the Santi Mala Medal struck for the Siamese Guerilla Forces. The Foreign Office said that they could be worn on this occasion only, and were thereafter to be treated as war souvenirs. I shall ask the Foreign Office to provide me with an explanation that I can hand to the King of Siam if I ever meet him at a State occasion in London and am not wearing his precious White Elephant. It is certainly quite the most expensive-looking order I have seen, and outshines any European order in magnificence.

I had to change into full dress at the Prime Minister’s house for the investiture, which was carried out at the Boromphiman Palace at 1500. Afterwards I was taken up for a talk with the Princess Mother, while the King’s younger brother took a series of snapshots of us with his Leica camera.

We left again at 1530, and I did a record change of clothes at the Udorn Palace, arriving five minutes late, at 1550, at our ‘A’ Mess, where a large garden party was being given in my name.

During tea, in a private room, I tried to persuade the King to come out and go round the guests in the garden. He obviously did not want to: I assumed it was his shyness, so I gave him a list of suitable questions he could ask the British Officers by way of making conversation; but he resolutely refused to budge. Finally I asked him if he played any musical instruments, and he replied: ‘The saxophone,’ so I suggested he should come out and watch the saxophonists perform in the Royal Marine band in the garden. He obviously wanted to do this, but did not dare to make up his own mind and said to me, as usual: ‘Please ask my mother.’ So, having persuaded the Princess Mother that this was a good idea, we all traipsed out into the garden and chairs were pulled up right under the bass trombones of the band. Luckily the band made so much noise that further attempts at conversation were not necessary.

In the course of the four days, at the urgent instigation of the Senior Statesman, Prime Minister and older members of the Royal Family, I have been hammering away at the King and the Princess Mother, trying to make them realize that it is crazy to leave the country for another two years’ study in Switzerland, but all to little avail.

The King did say that he would like to end up with six months in England for military studies, and this I undertook to enquire about on his behalf, but my attempts to make him substitute this for Switzerland did not succeed.

He was nice enough to say on the last day: ‘You know, I have given a great deal of thought to what you have been saying, and I hope, if I do not take your advice, you will not think I do not value it. I hope you will agree that I am taking the right decision.’ I replied: ‘No, l emphatically disagree. I am sure you are taking the wrong decision. In learning to become a very fine lawyer, you will hardly learn to become a very good King; but you have this consolation: that if your present decision loses you the throne (as many people seem to think it may), you will be able to earn your living as a lawyer in Switzerland.” The King took this crack in very good heart, and said how much he had enjoyed my visit and having somebody to talk to who wasn’t always saying: ‘Yes, your Majesty.”

I really am sorry for him. He is so hedged about by medieval customs and etiquette. His hair has grown long and untidy but he can’t get it cut until the high priest has cast an auspicious day. It will then be done in state in a temple.

On the morning of January 22, still complaining of lack of sleep, Mountbatten left Siam:

I staggered back to the Udorn Palace at 0200, only to be called again at 0645, by now more than ten hours short of sleep.

We got to Don Muang airfield at 0845, where there was practically the whole of Bangkok to see us off. Not only all the Ministers, Commanders-in-Chief and court officials, but most of the princesses, including Princess Chambphot and Ying Wun…

At 1000 we took off in Hapgift [the name of Mountbatten’s personal Dakota aircraft] landing at 1030 at Kellang airfield, Singapore.

Meanwhile, Mountbatten had reported back to London that Sangwan wanted to take Ananda back to Switzerland for at least two years. This alarmed the British, who felt that it would be better for them if the young king stayed in Siam. Handwritten notes on a Foreign Office file from January 1946 lamented the news that Ananda will go back to Lausanne, but officials seemed to realise they could not change Sangwan’s mind.

One official noted: “the visit to Siam seems to have strengthened the Princess Mother’s determination to keep the King away from the country… The Princess Mother is very quick on the update… and she may have decided that it will be at least 3 years before Siam can revert to something like normal… It would, moreover, be a difficult period for the inauguration of Ananda’s reign; there are sizeable troubles ahead of Siam, in all probability, and from the point of view of a fond mother it is not an auspicious moment for her son to assume an active role.”

Another said: “On a long term view the Princess Mother’s programme for her son’s education is no doubt thoroughly sound, but it is likely to meet with opposition from the Government who feel that the King’s presence is a steadying influence in a difficult transitional period. Her wishes, however, will almost certainly prevail.”

On February 11, Ananda wrote a letter to his tutor in Lausanne, Cléon Séraïdaris, complaining that he could not yet return to Switzerland, and boasting about all the guns he and his brother Bhumibol had received to play with:

11 February 1946

Dear Cléon, we wanted to stay here for one month and it is already “doubled” and it is not finished. They wanted us to stay till the opening of Parliament (24 January) and now they would like us to wait till the revision of the Constitution. It is not an amendment but a complete revision. Instead of one chamber there would be two. They say this will take three months, maybe much more.

Our stay goes on but we are not bored. As far as “toys” are concerned we especially have some American equipment: a jeep; a folding motorcycle for parachutists (the diameter of the wheels is about 25 cm ); a walkie — talkie (a transmitting and receiving set with battery that could work for as far as one kilometre) …

As far as weapons are concerned, we have an entire arsenal: A “Carbine” automatic rifle, 15 shots just by pulling the trigger 15 times; very light and precise. An American pistol of 11 mm calibre! It makes an enormous noise and I cannot attain any precision. A “M3 ”sub-machine gun making 30 shots at 11 mm in a row. A “Thompson” sub-machine gun, 30 shots as well, but one could shoot like the Carbine. A “Sten” sub-machine gun, a tiny apparatus which, when dismantled, could get into a school bag.

In the country there are quite a number of modern weapons that were parachuted in by the US for the Resistance. The other day we were by the sea and we shot on the bottles that we had thrown out.

As far as the “Resistance” is concerned, there was a widespread underground movement … there were secret airfields where allied agents and weapons were received. Many “relatives” cousins, came down by parachute before Japan surrendered.

There are a large number of problems in the country…

As far as Indochina is concerned, the Allies want the status quo of 1939, at the risk of settling the matter later in a court.

There are huge domestic problems: high inflation, prices have increased ten times, then a hundred times.

There are large numbers of thieves and gangsters… Now the gangsters operate sub-machine guns and grenades.

Clothes are lacking and, in the country, husband and wife sometimes cannot go out together because of the lack of clothes. This is what the country lacks most because food is abundant (not like in neighbouring countries).

Damage caused by bombing is rather small compared to that on Germany. However, the bridges have suffered a lot.

Disorder prevails in the Palace.

We also play music with saxophones: alto, soprano, tenor, clarinet. The ex-Prime Minister and a few musicians come to play with us… And the Ratanakuls? Over here, it is not too bad…

As we are not coming back soon, you can write many times. Letters take ten to twenty days to arrive.

Please send on this attached sheet with my fond greetings, and thank you in advance.

There are still many other things. Let me know your preference. Greetings, etc. And to the Ratanakuls!

A.M.

Meanwhile, by March, the British charge d’affairs Hugh Bird was reporting that Ananda may have changed his mind and might stay in Siam for an official coronation:

This led to intense discussion at the Foreign Office in Britain, recorded in files in the archives. One official noted that: “The Princess Mother was at first of the opinion that the King should return to Switzerland for a further two years to complete his studies . She then stressed her desire that the King should at some time visit England so that he could learn ‘something of the world’ in ‘one of the few surviving monarchies.’ The King himself spoke of receiving some military training here.”

He added: “Our latest information is that the King is now doubtful about returning to Switzerland, that he contemplates being crowned, and that he still hopes to visit England later on for a period of about six months.”

The official said it was highly desirable to get Ananda to spend time in Britain, to help preserve British influence in Siam: “we have here an opportunity to carry on a tradition founded by this King’s ancestors, and to knit more closely the cultural ties which have long existed between Siam and Great Britain.”

Ian Wilson-Young, head of the South-East Asia Department at the Foreign Office, added that it was highly desirable that Ananda should visit Britain:

the King (who though still tied to his mother’s apron strings had noticeably developed since January) still wished to return to Switzerland for a further two years to qualify as a doctor in Swiss law although Luang Pradist and the Royal Family were all opposed to such a long absence; everyone however, including the King himself, was most anxious that His Majesty should be allowed six months of military studies in the U.K. at some future date…

I think that it would undoubtedly be a good thing for the King to spend six months or so in this country. The Siamese Royal Family have long had ties with the United Kingdom and a visit here soon after his coronation might not only have an important influence on the King himself but would no doubt have a marked effect on public opinion throughout Siam.

In April, Sir Orme Sargent, who as Permanent Under-Secretary was effectively head of the Foreign Office in Britain, wrote to Sir Alan Lascelles, private secretary to King George VI, suggesting that the British monarch officially invite Ananda for a visit:

On the first of the year we signed an agreement with Siam bringing the state of war to an end and providing for the resumption of normal diplomatic relations between the two countries. Our Minister in Bangkok recently took up his duties and in various political reports has stressed the importance of our pursuing a positive policy if we are to recover our former position, political and economic, in Siam and furthermore to assist in the procurement and export of the maximum quantities of rice so urgently needed to avert famine in many countries in South East Asia. While we are already doing what we can in various ways, we feel that-an important further step in improving our position might be the issue of an invitation to King Ananda to come to this country… we feel that, whereas King Ananda would presumably pursue his studies here in a private capacity, it would be desirable for him to spend a few days on an official visit as the guest of The King.

Britain’s King George VI was an awkward character. Like Ananda, he had never been expected to become king. His brother, King Edward VIII had unexpectedly abdicated in December 1936 so he could marry his divorced American mistress Wallis Simpson. Suddenly Albert Frederick Arthur George became king. He was extremely shy and socially awkward, with a speech impediment that made him profoundly self conscious.

In a letter from Windsor Castle, one of the British royal residences, Lascelles replied that a visit by Ananda would be fine in principle, but added that King George preferred to have no visits between end-July and mid-October:

British diplomats in London regarded this as a green light, and cabled Britain’s ambassador in Bangkok, Geoffrey Thompson, to suggest he extend an invitation to Ananda:

Subject to your views we feel that it would be an excellent thing for King Ananda to spend six months or more in this country. There has been a long tradition of friendly personal relations between the Siamese Royal Family and this country and a visit here soon after King Ananda’s coronation might not only have an important influence on King Ananda himself but would no doubt have a marked effect on public opinion throughout Siam. The issue of an invitation to visit this country would also be in harmony with the positive policy recommended in your telegram №226 [of the 22nd March] and should help us to regain our former position in Siam.

Thompson replied on April 23 to say that he had raised the issue with Siam’s foreign minister, Direk Jayanama, who promised to raise it with the government and the king and noted that Ananda had already been invited to visit the United States. This caused alarm in Britain — as Thompson said: “that an invitation should already have been extended to the King to visit the United States is yet another indication that the Americans are going all out to cultivate this country.”

On May 2, Thompson sent another secret cable to say that Ananda was planning to visit the United States later in the month or early in June. The Siamese government told him that Ananda could visit Britain afterwards, around mid-June, before returning to Lausanne to continue his studies.

In London, diplomats at the Foreign Office were delighted that Ananda would be visiting, but were conscious that they were competing against the Americans for the favour of the young king. Wilson-Young noted that cursory hospitality from King George VI would not “rival American hospitality” — it was important for the British monarchy to give Ananda special treatment:

Since King Ananda is not going to come here for an initial period of six months military studies, his visit to the United Kingdom would be en route from the United States to Switzerland and would in fact be made specifically for the purpose of visiting the King. I feel that since the Americans have gone out to win his affections, it is all the more important that the invitation to King Ananda should be maintained, but in view of the detour which the visit will now involve, I am not certain that an invitation to luncheon or to the Royal Box at Ascot will offer sufficient attraction to rival American hospitality.

The British soon found they had a problem. The cantankerous and awkward King George VI didn’t want to host Ananda. The best he was willing to offer was a lunch party or a day watching horse races at Ascot, as his private secretary Alan Lascelles explained in another letter from Windsor Castle.

It would be very difficult indeed for The King and Queen to invite him to stay with them at that time; they will be leaving London for Windsor on June 14th, and for the following week (Ascot Races) the Castle will be full to its present capacity, which in these days is not very great.

If the King of Siam does decide to come at that time, it looks as if the best that could be done for him would be (a) an invitation to luncheon at Buckingham Palace if he arrives before June 15th; or (b) an invitation to come to the Royal Box at Ascot if he does not arrive till later; as you know, Ascot is to be an ”austerity” affair this year, with no luncheons.

I should add that The King and Queen are leaving London for Edinburgh on the evening of June 27th, and will be at Holyrood until the evening of July 3rd.

Much like Siam, Britain was ruled by an archaic elite hidebound by tradition. There was no good reason why King George could not change his schedule and host Ananda— after all, the Foreign Office considered it vital for the empire’s strategic geopolitical interests.

So British diplomats tried to push Lascelles to get the monarch to change his mind. But a further letter from Windsor Castle showed that the excuses about the king’s schedule were just a polite way of saying no. King George did not want to host Ananda at Buckingham Palace. After his previous letter failed to give the hint, Lascelles sent another letter making it clearer. The best King George was willing to offer was lunch:

His Majesty does not feel disposed to invite the King of Siam to stay here.

Buckingham Palace is not at present in a suitable condition for a State, or semi-State, visit from the Head of a Foreign State; moreover, the two periods mentioned in your letter will be particularly busy ones for both The King and The Queen.

The King considers that the best plan would be for arrangements to be made for King Ananda to stay privately elsewhere; Their Majesties would, of course, invite him to luncheon, provided they are in London. They have, as a matter of fact, already undertaken to be away from July 12th to 15th, and from the evening of July 16th to July 19th.

Meanwhile, in Bangkok, King Ananda summoned ambassador Geoffrey Thompson to say how much he was looking forward to staying with Britain’s king and queen at Buckingham Palace. He even asked what formal clothing he would be required to wear during his visit:

To make matters worse for the British, their diplomats in Washington cabled to say that the United States was planning a lavish welcome for Ananda, providing an aircraft to bring him to San Francisco and then a meeting with President Harry Truman in Washington:

There was so much excitement in the United States about Ananda’s visit that 20th Century Fox decided to release their new movie of Anna and the King of Siam to coincide with the young king’s visit:

Britain’s diplomats were appalled that King George VI was not inclined to hist King Ananda. As Wilson-Young noted:

Apart from the arguments in favour of an official visit to this country, which remain as strong as they were, there is now the further point that for Mr. Thompson to explain that after all an invitation cannot be issued for an official visit would almost certainly cause deep offence both to the Siamese Royal Family and Government. The position is more embarrassing in the light of Mr Thompson’s audience with the King of Siam yesterday when King Ananda, after saying how much he was looking forward to meeting the King and Queen, asked a number of questions about the wardrobe which he would need and ended by saying that he felt sure his visit to Britain would do much to strengthen and improve Anglo-Siamese relations…

In the light of developments at Bangkok I do not see how we can suggest to King Ananda that he should make a detour to visit this country en route from the United States to Switzerland in order to take luncheon with Their Majesties. I submit that either King Ananda should come as the King‘s official guest or that it should be explained to him that the dates which are apparently convenient to him for the visit to this country unfortunately do not fit in with the engagements that the King has already assumed.

In a handwritten note, another British diplomat, Sir Nevile Butler, plaintively suggested that “as Buckingham Palace is in a mess the King of Siam might be invited for a weekend at Windsor Castle, which might impress him even more than the Palace. After that he could be put up at Claridges.”

Claridges was a London hotel favoured by the British upper classes, but it was hardly a substitute for staying at Buckingham Palace.

In Bangkok, oblivious to the problems with King George VI, British ambassador Geoffrey Thompson sent more details of Ananda’s planned trip to the United States. The Americans were planning to fly Ananda to San Francisco in a “Skymaster” aircraft and host him for four days in California, a night in Chicago, four days in Washington—with a meeting with the president—and a day or two in New York. The Americans then assumed that Britain would provide an aircraft to fly Ananda to London:

At the Foreign Office in London, Orme Sargent was in despair. Despite clear signals from King George that the British monarch was not inclined to host Ananda, he was desperate to try to salvage the situation to try to gain influence over the young Siamese monarch.

“I am afraid that we now find ourselves in rather a difficult position,” he wrote to Alan Lascelles:

In accordance with the instructions in our telegram №408 which was despatched immediately on receipt of your letter of the 17th April, Thompson broached the matter of an official Visit to the Siamese Minister for Foreign Affairs and on the 2nd May reported that King Ananda would be glad to pay a brief formal visit to the United Kingdom after leaving America and before proceeding to Switzerland.

I now enclose a copy of a further telegram from Thompson, dated the 21st May, reporting.that the King of Siam had summoned him and, after saying how much he was looking forward to meeting the King and queen, had asked a number of questions about the wardrobe which he would require while in England. At the end of the audience King Ananda said that he felt sure that the visit to Britain would do much to strengthen and improve Anglo-Siamese relations.

These developments will clearly render it very embarrassing to explain to King Ananda that it has now been found that an official visit cannot conveniently be arranged. There would be a very real danger of giving offence to the Siamese Royal Family and Government, and consequently of a decision not to visit the country at all at the present time and possibly abandon the intention to pursue military studies here at a later date…

We think that a visit by King Ananda might very considerably assist our efforts to recover our former position, political and economic, in Siam where we may expect to meet very serious American competition. The invitation to King Ananda to visit the United States provides further evidence that the Americans are going all out to cultivate Siam.t Admiral Mountbatten, when urging the issue of an invitation to visit the U.K., reported King Amanda as being intelligent and most studious but deplorably ignorant of his duty; he added that King Ananda had character and was inspired by democratic ideals but was surrounded by traditional barriers and fully occupied by empty ceremonial duty. In our view it would therefore be of great value if King Ananda, who is at an impressionable age, could observe at first hand something of the ways of the British Monarchy…

For the foregoing reasons I am there impelled to approach you once more in the hope that some way may be found of fitting in a few days official visit perhaps early in July. Could the King and Princess Mother, for instance, be invited to Windsor for a weekend, after which they could be put up at Claridges?

In Bangkok, Thompson was getting increasingly alarmed and sending annoyed cables complaining he had “received not one word of guidance”.

Meanwhile the Americans told British diplomats that they had heard Britain would be providing an aircraft to take Ananda from New York to London at the end of his U.S. visit:

At Windsor Castle, King George’s private secretary had already sent two letters making it clear — in a very British way—that the monarch had no intention of hosting Ananda. Just like in Thailand, among the British upper classes it was considered rude to explicitly say no. But faced with continued pressure from the Foreign Office to persuade King George to change his mind, the monarch’s secretary Alan Lascelles sent a “final reply” ruling out any possibility of Ananda staying with them:

The King and Queen have given their close consideration to the possibility of inviting the King of Siam and the Princess Mother to stay wit them at Buckingham Palace in the early part of July, after Their Majesties’ return from Scotland. I am sorry to say that, for domestic reasons, it is a physical impossibility for Their Majesties to extend such an invitation to King Ananda and his Mother at that time.

Buckingham Palace, as you know, suffered repeated damage from bombs during the war; as a result, practically all the bedrooms available for distinguished visitors were put out of commission; the difficulties of getting repair-work of this kind done quickly nowadays have resulted in only two or three such rooms being made habitable.

Unluckily, even these few rooms have now been made temporarily unavailable again owing to the discovery of certain structural defects which must be put right; work is shortly being undertaken in them which could not be completed in time for King Ananda s projected arrival.

I am to ask if this could be explained to King Ananda, and if, at the same time, a friendly message could be conveyed to him from The King to the effect that, while Their Majesties greatly regret being unable to invite him to stay here this summer, they look forward to doing so on some other occasion later on when KingAnanda may possibly come over to England from Switzerland . During his forthcoming visit, Their Majesties will be glad to give a small dinner-party for him and his Mother, and (if they are still 1n London) to invite them to the Garden Party on July 9th.

As regards clothes, King Ananda would only need a short coat and black tie for he dinner here; for the Garden Party, he could suitably wear whatever corresponds in Siam to service-dress uniform.

It was true that Buckingham Palace had been bombed during the war, but this was not a good reason to refuse a visit from Ananda. King George, for whatever reason, just didn’t want to host the Siamese king, and British diplomats were unable to persuade him to change his mind.

Still oblivious to the problems, Thompson in Bangkok was sending increasingly exasperated cables asking for some guidance about Britain’s plans for the royal visit. He noted that the lack of any guidance from London was “becoming very difficult to laugh off”:

It has also been politely conveyed to me that the King would greatly appreciate some indication of what is being arranged for him in United Kingdom, who will meet the Royal party, how they will proceed from the airfield and to what destination etc. etc.

Grateful if you could kindly expedite your instructions long-continued absence of which is becoming very difficult to laugh off.

King Ananda’s plans to leave New York for London on June 22 caused another headache for the British. Not only would King George be unavailable (and unwilling) to host Ananda, but the British couldn’t even organise a plane for the Thai royal party before July 1. It was a national embarrassment, a painful sign of Britain’s diminishing status in world affairs.

The British tried to make the best of it. A cable from Wilson-Young set out the plan. Ananda would be treated as a guest of the British government, rather than the recalcitrant King George:

But the British were panicking. Ananda’s proposed arrival date in Britain meant that they couldn’t arrange a luncheon with King George. Worse, they couldn’t even provide a plane:

We are surprised that King of Siam should be ready to leave New York as early as the 22nd June ( repeat 22nd June ). Before finally deciding on the date of his departure from New York King Ananda may wish to know that the King and Queen are heavily engaged and would not be able to entertain him until after their return from Scotland on the morning of the 4th July. While we are still confident that a new Constellation will be available to bring the Royal party from New York on or after the 1st July it would almost certainly not be possible to arrange any suitable aircraft for an earlier date.

Trying to make the best of a disastrous situation, the Foreign Office told Thompson to invite Ananda as a guest of the British government — not the British king—after his visit to the United States. The best that King George was willing to offer was “a small dinner party”:

Meanwhile, Britain’s treasury was asked to find the funds to pay for a plane to take the Siamese royal entourage from New York to London, and then back to Bangkok:

On June 6, 1946, a cable from Washington gave the full details of Ananda’s planned U.S. visit. It included a night staying at the White House, and from June 22 the official visit would be over, and Ananda was expected to fly from New York to London after a few days with his entourage of 15 to 30 people

The British were reeling. Not only had King George refused to meet Ananda in June, but they didn’t even have a plane available to bring him to Britain until June 30. They were reduced to asking Thompson to try to get the king to stay privately in New York until the end of June:

Two days later, on June 9, 1946, Ananda was shot dead in his bedchamber in the Grand Palace in Bangkok, killed by a bullet from the Colt .45 pistol he had been given the previous December during his visit to a Free Thai camp. This caused a crisis in Thailand that continues to reverberate eight decades later [and you can read my article on who killed Ananda here] but it removed Britain’s immediate embarrassing inability to properly host his visit.

On a file about the debacle in the British national archives, a Foreign Office official appended a handwritten note on June 11, 1946:

Since the king has died, this can now go by.

Entertaining Ananda was originally published in zenjournalist on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

On 2 March 1935, in a low-key ceremony in the Thai embassy in London, King Prajadhipok, Rama VII of the Kingdom of Siam, abdicated his throne. Siam’s monarchy was in crisis. A nine-year-old prince living in Switzerland who had never been expected to become king was named Rama VIII of Siam. His name was Ananda Mahidol.

Here is a British news report about Siam’s new “boy king”:

Ananda was the eldest son of Prince Mahidol, who was one of more than 90 children of the famed King Chulalongkorn, Rama V of Thailand.

Ananda’s mother was a commoner, Sangwan Talapat, born in 1900 to impoverished parents in Nonthaburi near Bangkok. By the time Sangwan was 10 both her parents and an elder sister and brother had all died, leaving her an orphan with one younger brother. Through some fortunate family connections she moved into the outer orbit of the royal court, and after an accident with a sewing needle she was sent to stay in the home of the palace surgeon, who encouraged her to become a nurse.

At the age of just 13 she enrolled at Siriraj Hospital’s School for Midwifery and Nursing. She met Mahidol in Boston in 1918 after winning a scholarship to further her nursing studies in the United States.

In the rigid class caste system of Siam, the royals would never have approved Mahidol’s marriage to Sangwan if they believed he or his offspring had any prospect of becoming king.

But due to multiple royal deaths, King Prajadhipok’s abdication and post-revolutionary Siamese politics, Ananda was chosen as king in 1935. By this time his father Mahidol was dead and he was living with his mother Sangwan, his older sister Princess Galyani and his younger brother Prince Bhumibol in the Swiss town of Lausanne.

Sangwan appeared conflicted about her eldest son suddenly becoming Siam’s new monarch. As this New York Times news report shows, when asked whether she wanted her son to be king, her answer was deeply ambivalent:

If you were a mother, how would you feel about it?

According to his elder sister Galyani in a 1987 memoir, Ananda was initially reluctant and wrote a list of all the reasons he didn’t want to rule Siam:

He did not wish to be king because (1) he was only a child, (2) he knew nothing, (3) he was lazy, (4) the Chair (how he referred to the throne) was too high, and he could not sit still and could therefore fall off it… (5) wherever he went he would have to use the umbrella and could not enjoy the sun, (6) too many people in front and behind him wherever he went and he could not run.

When he was interviewed in his Swiss classroom, Ananda also said he wasn’t interested in being king.

Interviewer: Does it interest you?
Ananda: No.
Interviewer: Why?
Ananda: It just doesn’t interest me.
Interviewer: What does interest you?
Ananda: Playing!

Sangwan was hated by Siam’s old elite, as a low-born interloper who should never have been allowed into the royal family. She was later turned into a saint by the palace.

The truth, of course, is more complex.

She was a determined and opinionated woman in an era when women were expected not to have opinions, and a commoner in an era when social class counted for everything. This explains much of the hostility against her.

But she was also an overbearing mother who infantilised her children, and this would have far reaching consequences for Thailand, a country where ordinary people are also treated as infants.

One of the most pervasive myths about Thai history is that the Kingdom of Siam was never colonised, thanks to the enlightened leadership of the monarchy which skilfully exploited the rivalry of Britain and France to ensure the country was never invaded.

In fact, after the British governor of Hong Kong, Sir John Bowring, signed a treaty with the Thai monarchy in 1855, Siam essentially became a semi-colony of the British empire. Under Chulalongkorn, the Thai palace tried to reinvent itself as a British-style monarchy, and adopted numerous European royal ceremonial customs, including bearskin hats totally unsuited to the Thai climate.

In the early decades of the 20th century, the British supplied many of the advisors and bureaucrats who kept the Thai monarchy functioning. The revolution of 1932 took the British by surprise, but they did their best to retain influence over Siam, and continued to regard the country as being in their “sphere of influence” although not a formal colony.

So when Ananda Mahidol unexpectedly became king of Siam, the British were determined to give him an English education.

Ananda’s uncle Vajiravudh, King Rama VI of Siam, had been given military training at England’s Royal Military College in Sandhurst, and had briefly been made an officer in a British military regiment, the Durham Light Infantry. He then studied law and history at an Oxford college, Christ Church. Although Oxford and Cambridge universities claimed to be institutions educating the best scholars, in fact they were places where even mediocre members of the elite could get a degree.

Prajadhipok, King Rama VII, also had a very English education. He was sent to Eton College, the boarding school for the British elite, in 1906 at the age of 12, and then to England’s Woolwich Military Academy, from which he graduated in 1913. He was briefly employed as a British military officer in the Royal Horse Artillery.

This was one of the ways the British empire tried to influence allied countries — by ensuring their rulers were educated as English gentlemen. When Ananda Mahidol unexpectedly became king of Siam in 1935, the British wanted to ensure that he, too, would have a thoroughly English education.

In 1935, it remained very unclear whether Siam’s monarchy would survive at all. But in 1938, King Ananda made plans to visit Siam with his mother Sangwan and his brother Bhumibol. Meanwhile, tensions were mounting in Europe, with the rise of Nazi Germany and its Asian ally Japan. Suddenly, the British saw the importance of ensuring that Ananda grew up as an English gentleman, rather than an admirer of the Nazis or imperial Japan.

Britain’s plans were set out in a foreign ministry memo:

It is desired that the King should enter Eton as soon as possible and that after leaving school his education should consist of 6 months naval training, 18 months at Sandhurst, 6 months attachment to a British regiment and 6 months at Oxford. He must return to Bangkok at age of 20 for his coronation.

With these instructions, Britain’s ambassador to Siam, Sir Josiah Crosby, met Prince Aditya Dibabha Abhakara, the head of the “regency council” reigning on behalf of King Ananda, on 31 August 1938. He recorded their conversation in a “very confidential” cable the following day. Crosby stressed :

the very great importance from the British point of view of … doing everything in our power at this turning point in the life of the youthful king, to see to it that, when he attains his majority [becomes an adult], he shall bear the stamp of a British training upon him and, like his predecessors, make it one of his chief objects to maintain those close relations between Britain and Siam which have existed for so long and which, unhappily, are being threatened to-day as they never were before. In view both of past traditions and of the present international situation in the Far East, I feel that it would be nothing short of a calamity if His Majesty were to be sent elsewhere than than England for his education, and we may be sure that our enemies would make great capital out of such a thing if it came to pass.

Crosby asked about various logistical issues relating to Ananda’s education, and explained that his interlocutor, Prince Aditya, could be considered staunchly British, having received a thoroughly English education himself:

It will be useful if I state that Prince Aditya was at school at Harrow, that on leaving school he entered our Navy but was obliged to abandon the idea of a naval career for reasons of health, and that he afterwards went Trinity College, Cambridge. Of his anglophile [pro-British] leanings I have had abundant proof.

Crosby thought the issue was so important that he sent another letter to Stephen Gaselee, whose official job was “Librarian and Keeper of the Papers at the Foreign Office” and who had extensive contacts among the upper-class English education establishment. Crosby wrote that it was “of the utmost importance” that young King Ananda “should come to us”:

During September 1938, the British empire’s archaic bureaucracy began creaking into action. Britain’s foreign minister, Edward Frederick Lindley Wood, the 1st Earl of Halifax, send a letter to Claude Aurelius Elliott, the headmaster of Eton College. He pointed out that Ananda spoke very little English — he had grown up speaking French — and as an added inducement to get the king accepted, noted that Ananda’s predecessor Prajadhipok had donated a small garden to the school:

The same day, Halifax wrote to the vice chancellor of Oxford University, seeking a place for Ananda after he had graduated from Eton. He noted:

We consider that it is highly desirable on political grounds that His Majesty should be educated in this country…

The following day, Eton’s headmaster replied:

Soon afterwards, the dean of Christchurch College, Oxford, told Britain’s foreign minister that Ananda would be accepted as an undergraduate there after he completed his studies at Eton:

Another letter soon followed from the vice chancellor of Oxford University, also assuring the Earl of Halifax that there would be no difficulty for Ananda to study at Oxford. But with war against the Nazis increasingly inevitable, he added that “it looks as though these terrible happenings will make this answer unnecessary”:

British diplomats were pleased, although not surprised — this was the way England worked. A handwritten note on a diplomatic file from September 1938 states: “As anticipated, there appears to be no difficulty about Eton & Oxford”:

The British Foreign Office was now able to reply to Bangkok ambassador Sir Josiah Crosby, telling him all the necessary preparations were in place for King Ananda to study at Eton and Oxford:

Meanwhile, Britain’s Royal Navy had also been asked whether King Ananda could be accepted as an officer upon completion of his academic studies. They proposed that the young king should be given the honorary rank of lieutenant and should serve six months at sea with the British fleet:

This development, too, was communicated to Sir Josiah Crosby in Bangkok:

By early October, Crosby replied that Prince Aditya was very happy about the assurances he had been given, but was also anxious to know whether Ananda would be allowed to attend the Sandhurst military academy and spend some time with a British army regiment:

The British army duly obliged — Ananda would be welcome to spend two terms at Sandhurst and then six months attached to an English infantry battalion:

Crosby replied on 24 October saying that Prince Aditya was delighted with the plans that had been made, but cautioning that “the ultimate decision as to where the King will be educated must rest with the Government and with His Majesty’s mother”. He added that “Mr Pepys”, King Ananda’s English teacher, was accompanying the royal party to Siam”:

By November, however, a problem had emerged. Some senior members of the royal court, perhaps with the support of Ananda’s mother Sangwan, suggested an alternative proposal. Instead of going to Eton, they said, Ananda should be sent to an English-speaking school in Switzerland.

The palace chamberlain in Bangkok somehow knew the Switzerland correspondent of the British Daily Mail newspaper, James Challinor, who had recommended an establishment called Chillon College.

The headmaster wrote an obsequious letter to diplomat Sir Alexander Cadogan in London asking for Foreign Office help in getting King Ananda as a pupil, and noting that Cadogan’s son Ambrose had been a pupil at Chillon.

Across the top of the letter in the Foreign Office files, a worried British diplomat has scrawled: “Does anyone know anything about the educational plans for the King of Siam?”

Diplomats began scrambling to find out whether the proposed Chillon College would give Ananda an appropriately English education.

“For your information I would say that we are not at present entirely convinced that Chillon College would in fact be suitable,” wrote R.G. Howe of the Foreign Office’s Far Eastern Department to ambassador Crosby in Bangkok. But he added that if a school in England was out of the question, “it would be preferable for His Majesty to be educated at an English school abroad rather than to be deprived of all English influence in his education.”

One of the issues was that Ananda’s grandmother Queen Savang Vadhana, who had been one of King Chulangkorn’s senior queens — and his half sister too — seemed to be opposed to the young monarch attending Eton. Crosby reported this back to London, along with a new proposal from Prince Aditya that Ananda should be educated by a private tutor in England until he entered the British Royal Navy at the age of 17. Meanwhile, Ananda’s younger brother Prince Bhumibol would be educated at Eton.

But the Foreign Office in London was still trying to subtly find out whether Chillon College would be suitable. Cadogan wrote to a British diplomat based at the League of Nations (forerunner of today’s United Nations), asking for “general gossip” on whether King Ananda would have a “really sound English education if he went there.”

Meanwhile, the headmaster of Britain’s elite Eton College was growing impatient. He was keeping a place free for King Ananda, but this meant that some upper-class British applicants had to be turned away, and the pressure was becoming difficult to manage. He implored the Foreign Office to provide some clarity on whether Ananda would come to Eton:

British diplomats were unable to give a sensible answer — they were still trying to negotiate the unfamiliar world of Siamese internal politics. The Earl of Halifax, Britain’s foreign minister during an extraordinarily dangerous period in world affairs, took the time to respond personally to the headmaster of Eton, asking for the place for King Ananda to be kept open.

Slightly annoyed, the headmaster wrote back to the foreign minister noting that it has too late for King Ananda to come to Eton for the upcoming term, but he would reserve a place for the following term.

Meanwhile, there were increasing signs of divisions in Bangkok. Some members of the government — in particular navy chief Admiral Sindhu Songgramjaya — believed Germany and Japan were better allies than the declining and meddling British empire. They were trying to prevent King Ananda becoming brainwashed by the English.

They strengthened their argument by citing the views of Ananda’s mother Sangwan who believed that Ananda was a sickly and unhealthy boy, who would struggle in the robust physical culture of Eton. Sangwan and Ananda’s grandmother Savang believed the young monarch was “not strong enough” for an elite British school which emphasised physical hardship and endurance, and where bullying was rife. Sindhu also argued that young Ananda would not be shown sufficient respect at Eton by the British authorities. Crosby alerted London to these problems on 6 November 1938:

The following day, Crosby sent a longer note, warning that Admiral Sindhu was under the influence of fascist nations and hostile to England. Exhibiting the casual racism that infected the British empire, Crosby said he suspected that Sindhu was “one of those irreconcilable Orientals, often found elsewhere but comparatively rare among the tolerant [i.e. compliant] Siamese, whose enormous inferiority complex leads them to detest the West in general and the British Empire in particular.”

Crosby warned that the Siamese navy was sympathetic towards imperial Japan and could not be counted on to support Britain if war erupted in Asia, and added that many Thais saw Britain’s failure to stop the relentless expansionism of Japan as a sign of weakness. He lamented that this situation was worsened by the fact that Nazi and Japanese propaganda was widely published in Siam, overwhelming the “feeble” efforts of Britain’s Official News Service which was broadcast from a Reuters transmitter in the English town of Rugby.

He asked for Britain to “exhibit our strength” in Siam by sending a large naval force to impress the Thais.

I am convinced that some such thing, and nothing else, is required if we are going to recapture with the Siamese a degree of their confidence in that British might which they used to take almost as much for granted as the daily rising of the sun. As it is they are beginning, as I have said, to doubt our capacity to defend ourselves, and the Japanese and others like them neglect no opportunity of deriding us for our weakness.

An exasperated Foreign Office official wrote in a handwritten note on the official file:

It will be most unfortunate if Luang Sindhu blocks the plan for King Ananda to be educated in this country. I feel however that the attitude of the King’s mother will probably be decisive & it seems quite likely that his indifferent health will prevent him from going to Eton for a little time yet.

On 6 December 1938, at a peculiarly British event — the annual Bangkok ball for those who had studied at Oxford and Cambridge universities — ambassador Sir Josiah Crosby had another conversation with Prince Aditya. The prince told him that Siam’s cabinet had just agreed that Ananda would be sent to England for his education, but not to Eton — “chiefly because it was feared that he was not strong enough for public school life, but also because no precedent was known for the attendance at such a school of a reigning Sovereign”.

Prince Bhumibol, meanwhile, would be sent to Eton unlike this brother. “He is said to be physically stronger than His Majesty and to be a lad of character; Mr Pepys, the King’s tutor, tells me that he is very intelligent,” wrote Crosby. The implication was that Bhumibol was a much more sturdy, reliable and “English” boy than the allegedly effeminate and sickly Ananda.

But despite Ananda’s shortcomings, Crosby wrote, “the King’s modest bearing and gentle demeanour continue to endear him to all classes”.

In a postscript, Crosby wrote that he had just met Pridi Banomyong — referred to as “Luang Pradist” — who expressed “great relief” that Ananda would be educated in England, “for it would be very regrettable if His Majesty, a constitutional monarch, were to be educated in one of the totalitarian States, where he would be subjected to influences that were obviously undesirable”.

Pridi said that Ananda’s mother Sangwan was concerned that he had “weak lungs” and “was very apprehensive lest the English climate prove too rigorous for him at his present age”:

A Foreign Office memo recorded all of this approvingly, adding that the headmaster of Eton would have to be updated. A diplomat noted that because Ananda would have an English governess and an English-language tutor, “there ought to be no doubt about his ability to talk English in a year or two’s time”.

The foreign minister duly sent a letter to the headmaster of Eton, apologising for the news that King Ananda would not attend the school, but promising that Prince Bhumibol would become a pupil:

The Foreign Office wrote to Crosby in Bangkok to tell him everything appeared to be proceeding according to plan:

In a follow-up letter in early January 1939, the Foreign Office told Crosby that Eton College had been informed that King Ananda would not be sent to study there, but that it was hoped Prince Bhumibol would be enrolled as a pupil:

Crosby replied, enclosing a message from Prince Aditya:

The Foreign Office also wrote to Crosby in January 1939 to tell him that they were negotiating with Reuters to have its news distributed in Siam. They warned, however, that Reuters news lacked “the propagandist twist that is given to the German and Japanese messages”.

Meanwhile, rather belatedly, a British diplomat attached to the League of Nations finally replied with some information on Chillon College in Switzerland. Frank Walters reported that Chillon had not fully recovered from a large fire that destroyed its original buildings, and recommended an alternative school in Switzerland, the Alpine College, which was “really first rate as regards both the class of boys that are there and the tone which prevails”:

The Foreign Office politely replied with thanks, adding that the information would no longer be required. They were confident that Ananda was coming to England.

On 13 January 1939, Ananda left Siam with his mother and siblings to return to Switzerland, on the ocean liner Selandia. The British congratulated themselves that the visit had “proved to be a wise measure”, and “the welcome extended to His Majesty was spontaneous and sincere”. But they noted a further delay in plans to bring Ananda to England — for reasons of health, his mother wanted him to remain in Switzerland for another year or two:

In a letter to London on 20 January, Crosby tried to decipher the reasons for Sangwan’s reluctance to move Ananda to England. He noted the various medical excuses — the latest of which was that the young king suffered from “curvature of the spine” — and added that Sangwan believed it was inappropriate for a reigning monarch to be educated at a school like Eton. Sangwan was also concerned that in England, she and Ananda might be unduly influenced by the former King Prajadhipok, now living in exile in a country estate near London:

By February, Eton housemaster H.K. Marsden was rather impatiently asking the foreign minister whether he was still expected to keep a place open for King Ananda. His letter made clear he had never been “enthusiastic” about the proposal in the first place:

This led to a flurry of letters from Britain’s foreign minister the Earl of Halifax to Marsden and the headmaster of Eton:

Meanwhile, as soon as King Ananda and family left Siam, the government launched a crackdown against members of the royal family they accused of plotting a royalist counter-revolution. This caused panic among British diplomats, who suddenly became desperate to hide the fact that they had been trying to influence the education of King Ananda.

Over the spring and summer of 1939, the efforts of British diplomats to ensure Ananda received an English education became increasingly irrelevant. With a belligerent Nazi Germany seizing ever more territory in Europe, war was becoming inevitable. The Thai government, concerned that Switzerland could be invaded, tried once again to get King Ananda to return to Bangkok. Once again, Sangwan rejected the request.

In an exasperated confidential cable at the end of August, Crosby said Sangwan was “a very obstinate lady”. A handwritten note in the Foreign Office files said there were even rumours in Bangkok that Ananda might have to abdicate due to his failure to return:

A week after Crosby’s cable, the inevitable happened: Europe was engulfed by war.

Switzerland remained neutral, as war raged all around it. King Ananda stayed there through the whole conflict, with his mother and siblings, in the peculiarly peaceful bubble of Lausanne.

In December 1941, Japanese troops invaded Thailand, and the country quickly surrendered. On 25 January 1942, the Thai government declared war on Britain and the United States.

By mid-February 1942, Singapore had fallen to the Japanese. Facing the loss of its entire Far Eastern empire, Britain was confronting bigger problems than the need to secure the loyalty of the young Thai king.

But a few cables during the war showed that the British were still keen on ensuring that the Thai monarchy remained an ally. An exchange of telegrams in 1943 discussed rumours that Ananda and Sangwan were “pro-British”.

All of these documents are available in the British National Archives in Kew, London. But a handwritten note, written years later and accidentally left among the documents, makes clear the sensitivities of the discussion.

It says:

The present King of Thailand who, though a constitutional monarch, has considerable influence, is the brother of the King here referred to.

The death of the late King is still shrouded in mystery & the Royal Family are very sensitive to references to him.

This jacket [file] should certainly be withheld.

——————————————————————————

Part II of this article is here.

Educating Ananda was originally published in zenjournalist on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Inside King Vajiralongkorn’s dreaded military punishment camp

Under a merciless sun, hundreds of soldiers and palace servants stood stiffly to attention, waiting for King Rama X of Thailand, Vajiralongkorn Bodindradebayavarangkun, to emerge for another ritual in the five-day funeral ceremony for his father.

It was the climactic day of the funeral rites — October 26, 2017 — when a gilded royal urn symbolising the remains of King Rama IX, Bhumibol Adulyadej, would be slowly pulled through the streets of Bangkok’s royal district on an ornate chariot to the vast crematorium complex where his body would be burned on a soaring pyre.

The funeral ceremonies were particularly punishing for soldiers in the Royal Guard, whose dress uniform includes red jackets buttoned tightly right up to the neck, and towering furry hats modelled on the bearskin helmets used by some European armies centuries ago.

This uniform is totally impractical for the tropical heat of Thailand, but in the 19th century King Rama V, Chulalongkorn, sought to protect his monarchy against encroaching colonial powers by copying some of the uniforms, ceremonies and customs of Western royal houses.

Vajiralongkorn himself wore the full uniform during some of the funeral ceremonies, and was photographed dripping with sweat.

The funeral ceremonies were broadcast on every Thai television channel. Hundreds of thousands came to Bangkok to witness the rituals, and millions more tuned in around the country to watch. Everything had been painstakingly planned and choreographed, and three full dress rehearsals had been held. The palace wanted everything to be perfect.

But one Royal Guard officer was overcome by the heat. Thais watching the live broadcast saw him suddenly topple to the ground. Officials raced to help him, and lifted him back on his feet. He continued to sway, apparently still lightheaded, but managed to recover and continue with the ceremony.

It’s far from uncommon for troops to faint in such circumstances — in Britain, for example, five soldiers in the Queen’s Guard fainted at the Trooping the Colour ceremony at Buckingham Palace in June 2017. Officials blamed unusually warm weather, but even in a heatwave London is much cooler and less humid than baking Bangkok.

Vajiralongkorn, however, demands perfection from Thai soldiers. He has a fetishistic obsession with ensuring their uniforms are exactly right, that they follow drills and ceremonies without a single error, and that they are in peak physical condition.

Thai soldiers have learned to dread ever coming to Vajiralongkorn’s attention due to even small mistakes. They know they face punishment at a military boot camp at the king’s Thaweewattana Palace north of Bangkok.

Vajiralongkorn personally decides the length of punishment, based on a system of “black ribbons”, or “โบว์ดำ” in Thai:

• One black ribbon: one month.
• Two black ribbons: three months.
• Three black ribbons: nine months.

The man who fainted at the funeral was Commander Kritanai Pantabutr, a naval officer in the Royal Aide-De-Camp Department. He was given three black ribbons by a furious Vajiralongkorn, military sources say. He faces nine months in the king’s punishment camp, and was also demoted to become an ordinary soldier in Vajiralongkorn’s personal Rachawallop military force.

[UPDATE—As of March 2018, Kritanai remains in detention and has not been home.]

Sources say one reason for Vajiralongkorn’s wrath is that Kritanai was carrying one of the most important royals flags at the ceremony — the yellow royal battle flag with an image of a garuda. The extremely superstitious monarch believes it was a bad omen for the royal battle flag to fall to the ground.

Vajiralongkorn has several palaces in and around Bangkok. Thaweewattana was where he spent time with his third wife, Srirasmi Suwadee, a former nightclub hostess who he secretly married in 2001.

But from 2007 onwards he started spending most of his time in Munich, Germany, with former Thai Airways flight attendant Suthida Tidjai, and in 2014 he divorced Srirasmi, stripped her of her royal rank, and banished her from Thaweewattana. In a further act of cruelty, he jailed most of her close relatives, including her elderly parents and three brothers who had formerly worked as his bodyguards.

The palace is now mainly used as a prison and military punishment camp.

On March 27, 2012, Thailand’s Justice Department approved the construction of a jail within the Thaweewattana Palace complex. It is known as Buddha Monthon Temporary Prison. Officially it is under the authority of Klong Prem Central Prison, but in fact it is a place where Vajiralongkorn can incarcerate and punish anyone who displeases him with impunity and without any oversight at all.

According to research by exiled academic Pavin Chachavalpongpun, a crematorium has also been built inside the Thaweewattana complex adjacent to the jail.

In 2015, three members of Vajiralongkorn’s inner circle — his former chief bodyguard Major General Pisitsak “Jack” Seniwong na Ayutthaya, celebrity fortune teller Suriyan Sucharitpolwong aka Mor Yong, and police Major Prakrom Warunprapa — died suddenly after being accused of corruption in royal projects overseen by Vajiralongkorn. Before their death their heads were shaved and they were imprisoned at the secret jail at Thaweewattana. The authorities claimed that Prakrom committed suicide in custody and that Mor Yong died of a “blood infection”. Pisitsak’s death was never officially announced but his family was told that he, too, had hanged himself.

The corpses of all three men were quickly cremated without an autopsy.

It remains unknown how many people are held in the prison at Thaweewattana. Pavin says it is described by some of those who have been imprisoned there as “hell on earth”.

It is forbidden to visit the jail, and Thai human rights groups and media have said nothing about it, due to fear of the draconian lèse majesté law that criminalises discussion of abuses of power by the royal family.

Besides the prison, the Thaweewattana Palace complex also includes a training camp for young cadets in the Rachawallop Infantry Unit 904, a military force under Vajiralongkorn’s command. Two vintage planes, including a 1940s Douglas C-47, are parked in the palace grounds. They were previously on display at the Royal Thai Air Force Museum at Don Muang before Vajiralongkorn demanded them for himself in 2007.

In recent years a military punishment camp has been established in the complex. This punishment camp — separate from the prison — is where soldiers get sent if they displease Vajiralongkorn and are given black ribbons.

Testimony from soldiers who have spent time in the camp reveals a brutal regime.

On the day soldiers arrive at the camp, they are each put into a sack and then kicked and beaten by the “instructors” in charge of the punishment programme.

Then the routine begins. Each day starts at 4:45 a.m. when camp inmates are awoken, and they are expected to be ready to begin the day’s activities by 5:00 a.m. They are required to do an hour of physical training before breakfast, and then must assemble in uniform for individual inspection at 7:00 a.m.

Whatever their rank, officers at the camp are bullied and abused like raw recruits, and disciplined for the slightest imperfection in their uniform or any mistake in the drills they are forced to do. Punishments for infractions can last for hours, and include having to crawl through sewage pipes, having to carry heavy logs past the point of exhaustion, and being subjected to beatings by instructors with sticks, fists and boots.

Once each inmate has had their daily punishment, the rest of the day involves intensive physical training. There are one-hour breaks for lunch and dinner, but otherwise only five minutes rest per hour is allowed. Training goes on well into the evening, and inmates then have to prepare their uniforms and polish their boots for the following day when their ordeal begins all over again.

Because of Vajiralongkorn’s obsession with physical fitness, overweight soldiers face particular hardship at the Thaweewattana punishment camp. Their food is restricted, and some inmates are allowed only one meal a day. They are not allowed to drink any water, except at mealtimes, and they are not permitted to rest in the shade during their five-minute breaks in training. Sometimes they are forced to train wearing heavy coats, to make them sweat even more, which the instructors apparently believe will speed weight loss. Some inmates have come close to suffering kidney failure as a result of this treatment.

Inmates are usually forbidden from having any contact with their family while at the punishment camp. In some cases, their families have no idea of their whereabouts for weeks or months.

Instructors at the camp film the daily punishments of the inmates. The footage is routinely sent to Vajiralongkorn, who apparently enjoys watching video of soldiers being beaten and abused.

At midnight, inmates are allowed to return to the barracks building in the complex for a few hours of sleep. The barracks is a cramped one-storey building with a ceiling so low that inmates have to crawl to their sleeping mats. There is a dirty squat toilet, and a small washing area. Lights in the barracks remain on all night.

Some inmates who have been singled out for special punishment are not permitted to go to bed at midnight — they are kept awake for beatings and abuse well into the night. Some soldiers report that they were ordered to eat worms and drink urine.

The most severe punishment of all is to be sent to the jail in the palace complex, which is known as the “dark prison”. Soldiers in the punishment camp have very little information about what goes on there, and have no contact with prisoners held there.

At least one officer has died during punishment at the Thaweewattana training camp.

Lieutenant Colonel Kitsanapol “Bom” Pochana, commander of the 12th Artillery Battalion, was an extremely popular officer and a proud royalist who often spoke to military cadets and high school students to promote the monarchy.

On June 18, 2017, a taxi driver quarrelled with two soldiers from the battalion in front of Major Cineplex at Rangsit. The incident was shared on social media and reported in some Thai newspapers.

Vajiralongkorn became aware of the incident and ordered Lieutenant Colonel Kitsanapol and the battalion’s S3 officer, Major Thanakit “It” Deesonthikun, to report for punishment at Thaweewattana Palace. The king was apparently angry because he believed the senior officers did not control their soldiers properly and did not ensure the soldiers were correctly dressed.

After arrival at the palace, both officers were initially imprisoned in the palace jail. Their heads were shaved, and they were forced to wear prison uniforms and shackles. They were later transferred to the military punishment camp.

During his detention, Kitsanapol lost around 30 kg in weight. He was subjected to daily humiliations and abuse. He went missing from social media for weeks, with his Facebook page dormant from June 19 to July 10.

On July 10 he posted a song called “The Lesson” on Facebook, with the comment “I would love to leave this song with you”.

By August, his treatment had become less harsh but he was still required to do daily training at Thaweewattana with young cadets seeking to join the King’s Guard and the Rachawallop Infantry Unit.

On the afternoon of August 13, Kitsanapol was ordered to join the cadets in a 2 km run and fitness test, inside the grounds of the palace. He collapsed during this ordeal and suffered cardiac arrest. Instructors attempted CPR but by the time an ambulance arrived, he was pronounced dead. The military instructors at the palace told the cadets to say nothing about the incident.

His funeral was held on August 15 at Wat Phra Sri Rattana Mahathat in Bang Khen. He was posthumously promoted to the rank of colonel on the orders of Vajiralongkorn.

Soldiers can be given black ribbons and sent to the Thaweewattana punishment camp for the most trivial of reasons, depending on the whims and moods of the notoriously volatile Vajiralongkorn.

One senior officer endured three months at the camp after Vajiralongkorn noticed that one of the buttons on his uniform was loose. Another was sent to Thaweewattana and demoted to the rank of private because the king was not happy with his style of saluting. One soldier even ended up at the punishment camp because Vajiralongkorn thought he “looked too Chinese”.

The king’s fetish for perfection in military uniforms contrasts with his peculiar behaviour in Munich where he has been photographed semi-naked several times, often while wearing crop-tops and low-slung jeans, and sporting fake full-body tattoos.

But since childhood, Vajiralongkorn has been a bully who enjoys tormenting others, with an obsession for military drills and clothing, as a fellow pupil at the Millfield boarding school in England reported in an article in The Daily Telegraph last year:

“He wasn’t clever, he wasn’t in any teams and despite a previous sojourn at a prep school … his English remained imperfect and idiosyncratic. But what marked him most was his enthusiasm for the Combined Cadet Force, a Friday afternoon misery that everyone else loathed. Here, he so excelled in the meticulous wearing of kit, the parade-ground drills, the shouting and saluting that he was promoted to some sort of officer status…

“Like others whose sense of superior status is toxically combined with insecurity and isolation, Mahidol could suddenly drop his pretence of amiable normality and become a vile bully: indeed, his behaviour might now be described as bipolar. His joviality could quickly boil to manic pitch, and the dormitory would often be rudely awoken in the small hours by his sudden melodramatic cackling, as though he had just dreamt up a scheme of bloody revenge and mayhem on those who had crossed him.”

Half a century later, Vajiralongkorn is still the same insecure bully, but now he is king of Thailand, with the power to torment others with impunity. The abuse and torture at Thaweewattana demonstrate how he behaves when he can do whatever he wants.

While he remains on the throne, Thailand is a nation living in fear.

BEWARE THE BLACK RIBBON was originally published in zenjournalist on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Thailand stages a spectacular royal cremation

Residents of condominiums in the heart of Bangkok were surprised to be told earlier this month that they are forbidden to use their windows for three days. They are not allowed to look out at all for 72 hours. Their curtains must be kept drawn at all times, day and night. And they absolutely must not, under any circumstances, set foot on their balconies.

The explanation for this extraordinary demand was the upcoming five-day funeral of Bhumibol Adulyadej, King Rama IX, who died a year ago after 70 years on the throne of Thailand. Bhumibol will be cremated on a vast ornate funeral pyre on the evening of Thursday October 26, and his ashes will be collected the following morning.

Roads throughout the royal district will be closed during the funeral period, and traffic on the river will be restricted too.

The cost of the funeral is estimated at $90 million, and more than quarter of a million people are expected to attend funeral ceremonies and related events.

According to notices posted in condominiums in the area, security concerns were behind the order banning residents from using their windows during the funeral. But this is not true. There is very little risk of any significant security incidents during the funeral, and it is unprecedented in any modern country for people to be told to close their curtains for three days just because a state event is being held with some VIPs in attendance.

The real reasons are rooted in the fact that for all its apparent modernity, Thailand remains under the shadow of a medieval monarchy that has managed to maintain archaic and oppressive customs and traditions into the 21st century. Indeed, the new king, the widely hated Maha Vajiralongkorn Bodindradebayavarangkun, seems determined to restore authoritarian aspects of royal rule that were relaxed during the reign of his father, and create a neoabsolutist monarchy that rules through force and fear.

One of the old royal traditions that has survived into modern times is the insistence that in the presence of royalty, commoners must stoop or prostrate on the ground to ensure their heads are never higher than the head of any royals in the vicinity. This leads to regular absurd scenes of even high-ranking officials sitting or kneeling on the ground while a royal occupies the only chair. The palace appears not to understand how ridiculous such images appear to modern citizens of the world. Thais are expected to know their place.

This outdated custom causes significant complications in a modern city like Bangkok: once the Thai capital began to expand vertically as well as horizontally, and skyscrapers and bridges and pedestrian overpasses started to be built, it was no longer possible to ensure that nobody was higher than the king. The palace, however, has clung on to the insistence that wherever possible, Thais must be prevented from being directly above a member of the royal family. This leads to traffic gridlock whenever convoys of royal vehicles travel through Bangkok — hundreds of police are enlisted to block overpasses and pedestrian walkways, sometimes for hours. Simply crossing the street can become suddenly impossible.

Before the Skytrain elevated transport system was inaugurated in December 1999, planners had to consult the palace about the thorny issue of whether trains should be stopped too when a royal convoy was travelling underneath. For once sanity prevailed. “We have talked about this matter with the … royal palace,” an official told The New York Times. “The palace allows the Skytrain to run normally with no stop on this regard.”

The disruption to traffic caused by the royals causes simmering resentment in Thailand, as even some senior royalists recognise. In comments to U.S. ambassador Eric John in early 2010, elderly privy councillor Siddhi Savetsila admitted that even he was irritated by delays caused by royal motorcades. He was particularly critical of Vajiralongkorn, who had started demanding that windows should be closed when his convoys passed by. John relayed the comments — along with highly critical remarks about Vajiralongkorn from privy council president Prem Tinsulanonda and leading royalist Anand Panyarachun — in a secret diplomatic cable, 10BANGKOK192, that was later leaked and published by WikiLeaks.

Prostration was officially abolished in Thailand by King Chulalongkorn, Rama V, in 1873. But during Bhumibol’s reign, overt displays of obeisance and subservience to the monarch were reintroduced, and Vajiralongkorn has proven even keener than his father to insist that Thais show him the respect he believes he deserves. The idea of people looking down on him from above, from windows and balconies, appals him. Spectators at the funeral procession must be beneath him, sitting or standing on the sidewalk, as the royal procession sweeps past.

The requirement that residents along the funeral route stay away from their windows and keep their curtains closed draws from another old royal tradition too — the taboo on looking directly at the monarch. Until the 19th century, ordinary Thais were forbidden from watching royal parades and processions. This created a paradoxical situation in which the palace spent immense time, effort and resources creating lavish spectacles that hardly anybody was supposed to see. Thais were only able to catch snatched glances of royal ceremonies, a deliberate strategy to reinforce the illusion of the king’s majesty and superiority.

One of the most exhaustive Western books on Thai royal ritual is Siamese State Ceremonies, published by British scholar H.G. Quaritch Wales in 1931. The book includes detailed discussion of the taboo on looking at the king, and notes that until the 19th century, fences were erected along the routes of royal processions to prevent ordinary people witnessing them. He adds that the palace tolerated people trying to peek through gaps in the fence because their brief glimpses “served the valuable purpose of allowing the people to be impressed by the majesty of royalty — from a safe distance”.

As Thailand came in increasing contact with the West, and the Thai monarchy faced pressure to show itself to be “civilized” according to Western norms, the rules on looking at the monarch were relaxed. Indeed, as historian Thongchai Winichakul has observed, visual performances were crucial to the creation of a hyperroyalist cult during the reign of King Bhumibol. The impact was magnified by the advent of television which made the royal spectacle visible even in the furthest flung corners of the kingdom. Moreover, the daily Royal News television broadcasts each evening ensured that Thais were fed a constant diet of palace propaganda. “The spectacle of Bhumibol was elevated to another level from the mid-1970s by frequent majestic pageantry,” Thongchai notes. “The sacred aura of the monarchy is conveyed through awe and amazement either by physical attendance or through television.”

But while the monarchy is now visible to all Thais in a way impossible to envisage in previous centuries, one crucial element has not changed: it is the palace that controls how the royals are seen. The monarchy continues to exert rigid control over what images people can see and the context in which they see them. When unauthorized images emerge — such as a video I shared on social media this year showing Vajiralongkorn and one of his mistresses in a Munich mall wearing extremely skimpy clothing and fake tattoos — the palace panics and seeks to shut down the spectacle. The Thai junta pressured Facebook to block the video within Thailand and ordered Thais to have no online contact with me and two other prominent critical commentators on the monarchy, exiled academics Pavin Chachavalpongpun and Somsak Jeamteerasakul.

Every aspect of the royal funeral has been painstakingly stage managed. Three full dress rehearsals have been held. The palace seeks to control every aspect of the performance. Mourners have been given detailed instructions on what to wear and what clothing is forbidden. They have even been forbidden from bringing colourful umbrellas in case it rains — only black or grey ones are allowed.

Thai television stations have been under strict instructions to show no entertainment shows during October, only broadcasting propaganda about Bhumibol’s life. For the five days of the funeral, every single television channel has to broadcast the official pool footage of the ceremony. Thais wishing to witness the event have to do it on terms dictated by the palace — donning black clothes and attending the ceremonies in person, or watching the official coverage on television. People are not only banned from watching the funeral from their windows, but also forbidden to fly drones over the event.

A 170-page media guide has been produced for journalists, with strict instructions on how they should behave at the ceremonies. Photographers and video journalists covering the funeral must remain in designated areas and are forbidden to transmit images or leave the area until the processions have ended. Journalists must wear black clothing, and even dyed hair is forbidden.

These excessive and pedantic rules and regulations are typical of how the Thai elite seek to control ordinary people. It is a syndrome that affects all aspects of Thai life. Low-level officials and bureaucrats are not expected to show any initiative — they are told what to do. School pupils and university students are not taught how to think — they are told what to think. Thais are not supposed to see for themselves, and interact with royalty on their own terms — the palace controls the spectacle and sets the rules for participation.

But in the 21st century, authoritarian regimes can’t keep control of information any more. They can’t regulate what people see, however hard they try. Thanks to community radio, the internet and social media, Thais can access alternatives to the dishonest official narrative, and start to see the reality behind the staged performances and theatrical propaganda.

The junta can order people to close their curtains, but it can’t stop them opening their eyes.

CURTAINS FOR THE KING was originally published in zenjournalist on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

About a thousand years ago, a king called Cnut ruled a large swathe of northern Europe including Denmark, Norway and England. His father was the fearsome Sweyn Forkbeard, Viking monarch of the Danes. A description of him in a 13th century Icelandic saga says Cnut was a very handsome man, “except for his nose”, which was rather ugly.

Cnut’s life is mostly forgotten now, but he remains famous for one incident that has been repeated in various forms over the ten centuries since his reign. The earliest known account of what happened was recorded by the chronicler Henry of Huntingdon around 900 years ago, in his history of England, Historia Anglorum.

According to Henry, one day King Cnut ordered his courtiers to carry his throne to a nearby beach. He sat facing the sea, and commanded the tide not to come in. But of course, the waves didn’t stop, and the tide came in, and soon Cnut’s royal ankles were under water. At this point, according to Henry, the slightly sodden Cnut proclaimed:

“Let all the world know that the power of kings is empty and worthless and there is no King worthy of the name save Him by whose will heaven and earth and sea obey eternal laws.”

The tale has been interpreted in various ways over the centuries. In some versions, Cnut was an idiot who really thought the tide would obey his command.

In other versions, he knew he was going to get his feet soaked, but staged the stunt in order to teach a lesson to his foolish courtiers whose flattery of him had become increasingly ridiculous.

The moral of the story remains the same. Kings are human beings just like the rest of us, and they don’t have any magical abilities or supernatural powers. Nobody can stop the tide coming in, and anybody who thinks they can is stupid.

Sadly, in the 21st century, Thai military dictator Prayuth Chan-ocha clearly hasn’t learned the lesson of the story of King Cnut.

For centuries, the Thai elite have sought to control information, and prevent ordinary people knowing the truth about their leaders and their history. But technological advances have made this increasingly untenable. Now, in 2016, trying to prevent Thais from accessing information about their monarchy is as absurd as trying to stop the tide from coming in.

Thailand has a new king, the sadistic 64-year old petty tyrant Vajiralongkorn. Prayuth’s military junta, which seized power from a democratically elected government in 2014, is desperately trying to pretend that Vajiralongkorn is an impressive and respected man and that Thais are joyful that he is their new king. In fact, he is despised and feared by almost everybody.

The king’s image has not been helped by his recent antics in Munich, where he has been repeatedly photographed wearing strange clothes and fake tattoos, sometimes in the company of his secret new wife Nui and sometimes in the company of his new favourite mistress Goy. The desperate junta is trying to stop Thais seeing these images. They have blocked thousands of websites, and threatened to jail any Thai who shares the photos.

In July this year, the junta raided the family home of my wife Ploy, and took her away for interrogation along with our three-year-old son, and my wife’s father and brother. None of them had committed any crime. They were victimised just because Ploy is married to me, and I had shared the above photograph of Vajiralongkorn on social media. It was originally published by the German newspaper Bild.

Now the junta is attacking the BBC for publishing a factual profile of Vajiralongkorn, and threatening pro-democracy activists with long jail sentences just for sharing it. They have also begun harassing the Facebook followers of the most respected critic of the military dictatorship, exiled academic Somsak Jeamteerasakul.

Just as Cnut learned a thousand years ago, Prayuth will learn that this will never work. You can’t stop the tide, and you can’t stop the truth.

Originally published at www.facebook.com.

STUPID CNUT was originally published in zenjournalist on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

A quick overview

Earlier this week, after a long struggle by freedom of information campaigners, the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States finally put 13 million pages of declassified documents online. These documents were already in the public domain, but previously could only be viewed on four computers at the U.S. National Archives in Maryland, available between 9 am and 4:30 pm from Monday to Friday. This meant that most people around the world could never see them. Now we all can. Many of the documents are heavily redacted, but they nevertheless contain many useful insights.

Some of the documents discuss CIA investigations of UFOs, and their tests of the alleged psychic abilities of Israeli charlatan Uri Geller, as part of the secret “Stargate” project. Nobody should assume that the CIA was right about everything — far from it — and many of the newly released documents are heavily redacted, but they nevertheless contain many useful insights.

Over the last few days I have been looking at the documents relevant to Thailand, and particularly suppressed information about the Thai royal family, which is my area of specialist expertise.

On January 18, three plainclothes Thai police turned up at the Bangkok home of the mother of my son Charlie, and threatened Charlie’s grandmother, who was the only person home at the time. This was the second time Charlie’s Thai family has been explicitly threatened and harassed as a result of my journalism, despite the fact that they are totally innocent of any crime.

According to several sources inside the Thai regime, the reason for the latest threats to Charlie’s family was that the Thai authorities panicked about my discussion of CIA documents on social media, believing that I was leaking secret files. They didn’t understand that these files are now available to anyone.

The following is a brief overview of interesting documents I have found so far that help shed some light on dark episodes in Thai history. This is an ongoing project and I will keep this page updated. Please feel free to share anything interesting you find too, either in the comments below, or in a private message if you are in Thailand and (justifiably) concerned about the dangers of telling the truth. My overview is in chronological order, starting with the oldest documents then moving to more recent ones.

A loveless marriage and a rumoured abdication

On June 9, 1946, the 18-year-old Bhumibol Adulyadej accidentally shot his brother King Ananda Mahidol through the head when they were playing with a Colt .45 pistol in Ananda’s bedchamber in the Grand Palace in Bangkok. The distraught Bhumibol became King Rama IX the same day, but soon fled to Switzerland, ostensibly to finish his studies at the University of Lausanne, although he actually never completed his degree. Instead he was sunk in deep depression, and terrified of having to return to Bangkok to cremate the corpse of the beloved brother he had killed.

Meanwhile, Thai royalists were split about what to do about Bhumibol. Many favoured revealing the truth about the regicide, so that Bhumibol would have to abdicate and Prince Chumbhotbongs Paribatra would become monarch instead. Others thought the best solution was to try to support the weak and troubled Bhumibol and train him to play his role as a figurehead and protector of elite royalist interests. One way they tried to do this was by arranging his marriage to the feisty Sirikit Kitiyakara, who was much more audacious and bold than the struggling young king.

According to this document from April 1950, Bhumibol had no affection for Sirikit and was trying to avoid returning to Thailand for the cremation. In the end he was persuaded to return, and ironically he was supported by the progressive faction in the Thai government, because they believed he would be easily manipulated. This was true, but the palace and military manipulated him more cleverly than the progressives, and he ended up ruling for 70 years and doing prolonged damage to Thai democracy.

The king and his coups

In September 1957, the notoriously corrupt army chief Sarit Thanarat seized power in a coup, deposing Field Marshal Phibun Songkhram. This was the start of a remarkable palace revival in Thailand, because unlike his predecessor Sarit pretended to respect the monarchy and used royalist propaganda to bolster his dictatorial rule.

The palace has always tried to pretend that Bhumibol was above politics and never played any part in the numerous military coups that have disfigured Thailand’s modern history. But overwhelming evidence — including numerous declassified British and U.S. diplomatic cables — suggest otherwise.

Bhumibol also stated that he “intended to withdraw from the political arena” after a new government was firmly established.

This proved to be entirely untrue — the coup of September 1957 was the beginning of a royalist resurgence in which the palace gradually established ever greater influence in Thai politics.

A paranoid monarch

One consistent theme in diplomatic and intelligence cables about Bhumibol from several countries was his sense of paranoia. This top secret briefing to the U.S. president in June 1967 seems to share a similar assessment, warning that when the Thai king visited Washington he was likely to exaggerate the threat from communism.

Bhumibol versus democracy

In 1973, a student uprising in Bangkok led to the apparent overthrow of military dictatorship after nearly a quarter of a century. Bhumibol made a public show of support for the students at a decisive moment, and this helped foster a persistent myth — actively promoted by the palace — that he was a “democratic” king.

In fact, Bhumibol was a reactionary figure who never felt comfortable with democracy and who believed that Thailand should be ruled by the royalist elite.

Following the unexpected events of October 1973, Bhumibol quickly became disillusioned with democracy and the palace actively conspired to undermine parliamentary rule.

This led to a savage massacre of student protesters at Thammasat University by ultra-royalist forces in October 1976. Bhumibol’s complicity in the destruction of democracy in this period is well established, but this CIA document from February 1974 is interesting because it suggests that within six months of the student uprising the monarch had already given his permission to crush progressive forces in Thailand if necessary.

Worries over royal succession and political awakening

Even after the withdrawal of U.S. troops from Thailand in the mid-1970s, America continued to consider the kingdom a key Cold War ally, but was perpetually worried that Thais might be growing more receptive to other ideas. There were also concerns about the widely despised successor to the throne, Crown Prince Maha Vajiralongkorn.

“The current monarch’s great popularity and personal qualities enable him to play a key role in moderating national crises. The lack of an equally capable successor, however, suggests that the power of the monarchy and its stabilizing influence will decline with succession. Moreover. the independence of the Palace from the military is likely to decrease. and the Army‘s political power will probably grow despite the wishes of certain junior officers that the military remain aloof from politics.”

The analysis also presciently forecast that increasing political engagement among ordinary Thais would become a significantly destabilising factor for the sclerotic Thai elite and their shaky status quo from the 1990s onwards.

Prem and the prince

Between 1980 and 1988 Thailand was a faux-democracy in which royalist general Prem Tinsulanonda served as prime minister on behalf of Bhumibol’s faction among the royalist elite. Meanwhile, the king’s marriage to Queen Sirikit was unravelling, and army factionalism was rife. Sirikit became close to generals who wanted to replace Prem, and also sought to pressure Bhumibol to abdicate in favour of Vajiralongkorn, who had his own favourites among the political and military elite.

The report also noted that Vajiralongkorn supported a right-wing rival of Prem. This was notorious ultranationalist politician Samak Sundaravej. Meanwhile, Sirikit had a favourite of her own — the ambitious General Arthit Kamlang-ek.

These factors destabilised the country throughout the period of “Premocracy”.

The “Double 9” coup of 1985

On September 9, 1985, a group of military officers linked to a faction known as the “Young Turks” tried to seize power in an abortive uprising that was quickly suppressed. One suspected reason for the collapse of the attempted coup was that senior military officers favoured by Sirikit and Vajiralongkorn initially promised their support but panicked and backed out at the last minute.

The coup was suppressed by forces loyal to General Chavalit Yongchaiyudh. Five civilians were killed during the brief fighting, including two foreign journalists, Neil Davis and Bill Latch of NBC. A CIA analysis of the abortive coup is here. It is heavily redacted but nevertheless still useful.

One of the interesting elements of the analysis is that it explicitly discusses the splits in the royal family and their impact on events. The analysis mentions that Sirikit supported General Pichit Kullavanij, a rival to Prem and might a support a coup by him.

The uncertain kingdom

In February 1987, combined U.S. intelligence agencies produced yet another report fretting that “Thailand’s nagging political and economic problems — and expected changes in leadership — suggest that this important US ally may be headed for a period of uncertainty that could be detrimental to US interests in Southeast Asia.”

They entitled it Thailand: The Uncertain Kingdom.

In particular they were concerned that Bhumibol might soon abdicate, or that Prem would step down, and this would lead to “worrisome succession prospects”.

Nature first, protocol second

By 1986, pressure from Sirikit and her faction for Bhumibol to abdicate had become intense. The monarch shocked the nation on his 59th birthday in December that year by hinting that he would soon step aside to make way for Vajiralongkorn to rule Thailand.

“The water of the Chao Phraya must flow on, and the water that flows on will be replaced. In our lifetime, we just perform our duties. When we retire, somebody else will replace us,” Bhumibol intoned. “One cannot stick to a single task forever. One day we will grow old and die.”

This caused panic among the more liberal elements of the royalist elite, who began desperately trying to prevent Vajiralongkorn taking over. In the end it was Vajiralongkorn himself who did the most to sabotage an early succession, with a spectacular meltdown during an official visit to Japan in September 1987. Furious that his mistress Yuvathida Polpraserth had not ben allowed to accompany him for reasons of protocol, Vajiralongkorn behaved petulantly throughout the trip, and eventually cut it short three days early, claiming he had been shown an unacceptable level of disrespect.

One of the incidents that apparently enraged the crown prince was that at one stage his Japanese chauffeur had to stop the car to pee en route to an official engagement.

Here is a CIA summary of the debacle. Note the handwritten comment that a U.S. official added to the document: “Nature first, protocol second.”

A gathering of spooks

The precursor of the CIA was the Office of Strategic Services, or OSS, formed in 1942 under the leadership of William “Wild Bill” Donovan. The organisation had intimate links to Thailand from the start, and helped to create the “Free Thai” movement that fought the Japanese-allied government in Bangkok during World War Two.

Alexander MacDonald, founder of the Bangkok Post newspaper, was an OSS agent during the war and gifted King Ananda Mahidol the Colt .45 pistol that killed the 20-year-old monarch in 1946 while he was playing with Bhumibol in his bedroom.

Another agent was Willis Bird, who married into the family of Siddhi Savetsila (descended from British consul Henry Alabaster and the highly influential Bunnag family who were originally of Persian origin). This CIA cable from 1949 discusses efforts by the Thai military to secretly purchase weapons via Bird.

In October 1987, around 70 former OSS agents and their spouses held a reunion meeting in Bangkok. According to news reports compiled by the CIA, their most hospitable host was Siddhi Savetsila. Willis Bird, now in a wheelchair, was there too.

The assembled spies also had a special audience with King Bhumibol Adulyadej at Chitralada Palace.

Interestingly, one of the reports on the gathering of spooks was written by Denis Gray of the Associated Press, whose father worked for the CIA, and who has long been regarded by U.S. intelligence agencies as an asset willing to help write royalist propaganda in Thailand.

Inappropriate behaviour

Bhumibol marked his 60th birthday in December 1987. Compounding the embarrassment of the crown prince’s calamitous visit to Japan, the king’s birthday was marred by several anonynous leaflets that denounced the behaviour of Vajiralobgkorn and his mother Sirikit.

This episode has been covered in detail by journalist Paul Handley in his seminal biography of Bhumibol, The King Never Smiles. As Handley explains (and as the CIA apparently failed to realise) the leaflets were actually sponsored by members of the extended royal family — the relatives of Vajiralongkorn’s abandoned first wife Soamsawali.

Originally published at www.facebook.com.

DECLASSIFIED CIA FILES ON THAILAND was originally published in zenjournalist on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

ความน่าละอายของระบอบไทยๆ ในการละเมิดต่อผู้เยาว์อย่างอนาถ

14 มกราคม 2560 เป็น “วันเด็กแห่งชาติ” ประจำปีของประเทศไทย ในประเทศต่างๆ เกือบทั่วโลก มันคือวันที่อุทิศให้กับเด็กๆ ด้วยการเฉลิมฉลองต่อการสร้างโอกาสให้กับผู้เยาว์ น่าเสียดายเป็นอย่างยิ่งที่สิ่งเหล่านี้ไม่ได้เกิดขึ้นในประเทศไทย

มันน่าอนาถที่ว่า ประชาชนชาวไทยยังคงถูกกดขี่โดยระบอบของกลุ่มคนแก่ๆ และโง่เขลาเบาปัญญา ซึ่งรู้สึกสยดสยองอย่างยิ่งต่อความเจริญก้าวหน้า และแถมยังเชื่อว่า การยินยอมอยู่ในโอวาท มีความสำคัญมากกว่าจินตนาการและเสรีภาพ

วันเด็กแห่งชาติในประเทศไทยคือวันของการล่วงละเมิดเด็ก ซึ่งรัฐบาลไทยเป็นผู้อุปถัมภ์อย่างเป็นทางการ

องค์ประกอบสำคัญของวันเด็กแห่งชาติ ก็คือ กองทัพบก — ซึ่งเป็นกองทัพทหารที่ไม่เคยสู้รบในศึกสงครามอย่างแท้จริงกับศัตรูต่างชาติ แต่เป็นผู้บดขยี้ระบอบประชาธิปไตยของไทยซ้ำแล้วซ้ำเล่า — ด้วยการเชิญชวนผู้เยาว์ทั้งหลาย เข้ามาร่วมกิจกรรมในค่ายทหาร ซึ่งผู้เยาว์เหล่านี้ สามารถถูกล้างสมองด้วยการมอบอาวุธยุทโธปกรณ์อันตรายซึ่งเป็นของจริงให้จับเล่นกัน

มันอาจไม่ยุติธรรมต่อการกล่าวหาประเทศไทยว่า เป็นประเทศเดียวในโลกที่กระทำการล่วงละเมิดผู้เยาว์โดยใช้วิธีการแบบนี้ ประเทศเกาหลีเหนือก็กระทำแบบนี้ด้วยเช่นกัน

ขณะเดียวกัน ที่ทำเนียบรัฐบาลในกรุงเทพมหานคร (ซึ่งรัฐบาลที่มาจากการเลือกตั้งเคยบริหารประเทศอยู่จนกระทั่งกองทัพกระทำการยึดอำนาจเมื่อปี พ.ศ. 2557 ด้วยการก่อการรัฐประหารอีกครั้งหนึ่ง) เด็กผู้เยาว์ต่างได้รับเชิญให้เข้ามาร่วมงานและแสดงความเคารพอย่างน่าหัวเราะ กับกระดาษแข็งซึ่งถูกตัดให้มีขนาดเท่ากับรูปตัวจริงของพลเอกประยุทธ จันทร์โอชา หัวหน้าคณะเผด็จการทหาร

มันไม่เพียงแต่เผด็จการทหารเท่านั้นที่ทำการแสวงหาผลประโยชน์กับเด็กผู้เยาว์เหล่านี้ในวันเด็กแห่งชาติ — แต่กิจการบางแห่งที่อยู่ในแวดวงการค้าทางเพศก็ได้เอาเปรียบกับโอกาสแบบนี้ นี่คือตัวอย่างของเจ้าของกิจการบาร์ของไทย กำลังทำการเชื้อเชิญให้เด็กผู้หญิงไทยคนหนึ่งแต่งตัวเพื่องานวันเด็กแห่งชาติโดยเฉพาะ:

มันเป็นเรื่องที่รู้กันอย่างกว้างขวางว่า ผู้เยาว์ของไทยจำนวนหลายหมื่นคน — ซึ่งเป็นตัวเลขโดยคาดคะเนแบบน้อยที่สุด — ขายบริการทางเพศในบาร์และซ่องโสเภณีกันในประเทศไทย

ผู้เยาว์จำนวนมากมายที่มีทางเลือกน้อยมาก เพราะพ่อแม่ของพวกเธอย้ำให้ฟังเสมอว่า ให้ทำอย่างไรก็ได้ เพื่อพวกเธอจะได้มีรายได้เข้ามา และระบบการศึกษาของประเทศไทยก็มีเรื่องอื้อฉาวเหลือคณานับ เด็กผู้เยาว์ไม่ได้ถูกสอนให้ได้รับทักษะที่สามารถนำไปใช้ประโยชน์ได้เลย แต่กลับถูกสอนให้หมอบคลานอยู่บนพื้น และอยู่ในโอวาทเท่านั้น แม้กระทั่งในมหาวิทยาลัยเอง นิสิตนักศึกษารุ่นใหม่จะต้องถูกบังคับให้ปฏิบัติตามพิธีกรรม ที่ต้องอยู่ภายใต้การควบคุมอันน่าอัปยศอดสูอย่างจำเจ

สังคมนี้ เริ่มป่วยหนักขึ้นมาได้อย่างไร?

เหตุผลที่ประเทศไทยยังคงถูกครอบงำโดยกลุ่มชนชั้นสูง ซึ่งเต็มไปด้วยการล่วงละเมิดกฎเกณฑ์และการแสวงหาผลประโยชน์นั้น ก็เพราะว่าพวกเขามีความตื่นตระหนกกับความคิดใหม่ๆ รวมไปถึงคุณสมบัติที่เต็มไปด้วยบูรณภาพของคนรุ่นใหม่ เพื่อการคงไว้และทำให้ชอบด้วยกฎหมายในการปกครองของพวกเขา กลุ่มอำมาตย์ชนชั้นสูงเหล่านี้ พยายามล้างสมองประชาชน ด้วยการยัดเยียดความเชื่อที่ว่า มันเป็น “ประเพณีไทย” ที่ผู้ร่ำรวย สามารถแสวงหาผลประโยชน์กับผู้ยากจนได้ และ ผู้ที่แข็งแกร่งมีกำลังมากกว่าก็สามารถล่วงละเมิดผู้อ่อนแอกว่าได้ และรวมไปถึงผู้น้อยหรือผู้เยาว์ จะต้องเคารพนบนอบกับผู้มีอาวุโสกว่าเสมอ ใครก็ตามที่ทำการท้าทายเรื่องเหล่านี้ จะถูกตราหน้าว่า เป็นพวกไม่รักชาติและ “ไม่ใช่คนไทย”

ระยะเวลาเกือบสองศตวรรษที่ผ่านมา กลุ่มชนชั้นสูงพยายามปฎิเสธหลักการของประชาธิปไตยให้กับสามัญชนคนไทยทั่วไป ด้วยการอ้างว่า พวกเขาไม่มีความรู้มากเพียงพอที่จะมอบความไว้วางใจด้วยการให้สิทธิ์ในการเลือกตั้งได้ จากนั้น พวกอำมาตย์ก็พยายามทุกอย่าง ให้ระบบการศึกษาของไทยคงอยู่อย่างย่ำแย่ และพยายามหยุดประชาชนที่จะคิดเพื่อตนเองกัน

สมเด็จพระเจ้าอยู่หัววชิราลงกรณฯ ซึ่งเป็นกษัตริย์พระองค์ใหม่ของประเทศไทย ทรงเป็นตัวอย่างอธิบายได้ดีถึงทัศนคติของกลุ่มชนชั้นสูง เกี่ยวกับพระราชโอรสและพระราชธิดาของพระองค์ มีเรื่องอื้อฉาวที่ทราบกันดีว่า พระองค์ทรงทอดทิ้งพระราชโอรสทั้งสี่ของพระองค์หลังจากที่ทรงทำการหย่ากับพระมารดาของพระราชโอรสเหล่านั้นในปี พ.ศ. 2539 และแม้จะเป็นความจริงที่ว่า สถาบันพระมหากษัตริย์ของไทยมีความร่ำรวยมากที่สุดในโลกก็ตาม พระองค์ก็ทรงยังปฎิเสธในการจ่ายเงินค่าการศึกษาให้กับพระราชโอรสของพระองค์ นี่คือ จดหมายที่พระองค์ได้ส่งไปยังโรงเรียนประจำของพระราชโอรสของพระองค์ในประเทศสหราชอาณาจักรในเดือนกุมภาพันธ์ พ.ศ. 2540 (จดหมายเป็นภาษาอังกฤษ):

สิ่งที่สำคัญมากที่สุด ซึ่งประชาชนชาวไทยสามารถกระทำได้ในวันเด็กแห่งชาติ ก็คือ ให้หยุดและขบคิดเกี่ยวกับ เรื่องโกหกที่พวกเขาได้รับการสั่งสอนมา มันไม่ใช่ “วัฒนธรรมไทย” ในการล่วงละเมิดและตักตวงผลประโยชน์จากเด็กผู้เยาว์ และ บังคับให้พวกเขาหรือพวกเธอ หมอบคลานบนพื้นดิน และพยายามหยุดยั้งไม่ให้พวกเขาได้เรียนรู้เพื่อการคิดเพื่อพวกเขา ถ้ากล่าวอย่างตรงไปตรงมาคือ มันไม่ใช่แม้แต่พฤติกรรมที่มนุษย์ปุถุชนธรรมดาๆ จะต้องไปยอมรับกับมันกันเลย

มันเป็นความวิปริตและบิดเบี้ยวและเป็นเรื่องเหลวไหลสิ้นดี และมันต้องสิ้นสุดกันเสียที

Originally published at www.facebook.com.

วันเด็กแห่งชาติ was originally published in zenjournalist on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The shame of the Thai regime’s tragic abuse of the young

Today is the annual Thai “Children’s Day”.

In most places around the world, a day dedicated to children would be a celebration of the potential of youth. Sadly, the people of Thailand remain oppressed by a regime of elderly and inadequate men who are terrified of progress and believe obedience is more important than imagination and freedom.

Children’s Day in Thailand is a day of state-sponsored child abuse.

The main element of Children’s Day is that the army — which has never fought a real war against any foreign enemy but repeatedly crushes Thai democracy — invites kids into military camps where they can be brainwashed by being given lethal weapons to play with.

It would be unfair to accuse Thailand of being the only country in the world to abuse children in this way. North Korea does it too.

Meanwhile, at Government House in Bangkok, where an elected administration used to rule until the army seized power in 2014 in yet another coup, children are invited to come and pay respects to ludicrous life-size cardboard cutouts of military dictator Prayuth Chan-ocha.

It’s not just the military junta that exploits kids on Children’s Day — some establishments in Thailand’s vast industrialised sex industry also take advantage of the occasion. Here is an advert for a Thai hostess bar in Bangkok offering a special schoolgirl cosplay event on Children’s Day:

It’s widely known that tens of thousands of Thai teenagers — at a conservative estimate — sell sex in bars and brothels in Thailand.

Many of them have little alternative, because their parents insist on them earning money however they can, and the education system in Thailand is notoriously abysmal. Children are not taught any useful skills. They are taught to crawl on the ground and be obedient. Even at university, new students are routinely subjected to humiliating rituals of subjugation.

How did this society become so sick?

The reason is that Thailand remains dominated by an abusive and exploitative elite who are terrified of the ideas and integrity of young people. In order to entrench and legitimise their rule, this elite has tried to brainwash people into believing that it is “Thai culture” for the rich to exploit the poor, and the strong to abuse the weak, and the young to worship the old. Anybody who challenges this is vilified as unpatriotic and “unThai”.

For the past two centuries the elite have tried to deny democracy to ordinary Thais by claiming that they are not educated enough to be entrusted with the right to vote, and then ensuring that Thai education remains appalling, to try to stop people thinking for themselves.

Thailand’s new king Vajiralongkorn exemplifies the attitude of the Thai elite towards their children. Notoriously he abandoned four of his sons after he broke up with their mother in 1996, and despite the fact the Thai monarchy is the richest in the world, he refused to even continue paying for their education. They remain banished from Thailand. Here’s a letter he sent to their boarding school in the UK in February 1997:

The most important thing that Thais can do on Children’s Day is stop and think about the lies they have been taught. It is not “Thai culture” to abuse and exploit children, and force them to crawl on the ground, and try to stop them learning to think for themselves. Frankly, it is not even acceptable human behaviour at all.

It is warped and twisted and wrong, and it needs to stop.

Originally published at www.facebook.com.

CHILDREN’S DAY was originally published in zenjournalist on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

A Secret History of 21st Century Siam

In June 2011, I resigned from my job as a senior editor at Reuters after a 17-year-career, and became a fugitive from Thai law, because I wanted to publish an important analysis of Thai politics and the role of the monarchy in the political crisis that had engulfed the kingdom.

I had become increasingly uneasy about the self-censorship exercised by Reuters and all major international media organisations when covering Thailand. Everybody was terrified of violating the cruel and archaic lèse majesté law that imposes lengthy jail sentences on anybody who dares challenge the fairytales and propaganda of Thai royalty. But it was impossible to adequately explain Thailand’s political turmoil without discussing the role of the palace and a simmering secret struggle over royal succession.

This meant that any journalist wanting to write honestly and accurately about Thailand’s crisis faced an extraordinary dilemma — it was impossible to tell the story properly without breaking Thai law.

In early 2011 I gained access to more than 3,000 U.S. diplomatic cables about Thailand which had been obtained by WikiLeaks. Only a few had been published already. The cables provided unprecedented insight into the Thai monarchy and the political implications of royal succession because unlike all other analysis in the public domain, they were written without self censorship. I began work on a long analysis that explained what the leaked cables could tell us about modern Thailand.

Reuters, however, refused to publish it. My managers were so afraid of the lèse majesté law that they were unwilling to take the risk of publishing the truth about Thailand’s royals. As a journalist I believe it is my job to inform people, and I don’t think it is acceptable to avoid reporting important information just because powerful people want to suppress it. As a human being, I am heartbroken by the oppression of ordinary Thais by a corrupt political elite, and I believe the country can never be free until telling the truth is decriminalised. So I took the decision to resign from Reuters and publish the analysis myself.

I gave it the name Thailand’s Moment of Truth, which is a quotation from one of the leaked cables, but it became better known by its Twitter hashtag, #thaistory. Here is what some people said about #thaistory after it was published:

• “Perhaps the biggest bombshell of reportage on Thailand in decades… Marshall’s account is the most thorough, and in many ways damning, assessment of the royal family’s influence over politics in history. His reporting, and the cables they are based upon, leaves no stone unturned — or unblemished: The queen’s influence, often negative, over the tense situation in southern Thailand; the military’s growing use of lese majeste laws to crack down on opposition; the foibles and venality of the crown prince; the vultures circling around the palace as the end of King Bhumibol’s long reign ends.” — Joshua Kurlantzick, Southeast Asia fellow, Council on Foreign Relations
• “Public commentary that deals with the messiness of Thailand’s recent political history is risky. Anything that touches on the personalities, activities or priorities of the royal family is especially dangerous…. Transgressions can lead to tough consequences. Thais and foreigners alike have gone to gaol for stepping out of line. Andrew MacGregor Marshall, a former Reuters man, is under no illusions about these realities. With little thought for his immediate prospects he ditched a 17-year career with the global wire service to publish a mega-essay about Thai royal political intrigue… The first two installments of his long-awaited, four-part contribution, known as #thaistory or more formally as Thailand’s moment of truth: A secret history of 21st century Siam, have quickly become online sensations… Marshall has provided a thorough treatment of thousands of leaked diplomatic communications…. His insights will reverberate in Thai analytical circles for many years to come.” — Nicholas Farrelly, fellow at the Australian National University
• “Marshall … has written an account of the Thai monarchy at its critical transition and made it available to the public — an act that will certainly guarantee him a lengthy prison sentence for lèse-majesté… Marshall has undoubtedly helped push the boundaries much further as one looks at the present state of the Thai monarchy.” — Pavin Chachavalpongpun, fellow at the Institute of South East Asian Studies in Singapore
• “Our understanding of the King Lear element in the Thai agony has been vastly illuminated by the WikiLeaks masterwork being produced by the former Reuters journalist Andrew MacGregor Marshall. Marshall describes his distillation of 3000 US diplomatic cables on Thailand as ‘lèse majesté on an epic scale’. This is a statement of plain truth, not bravado… The result is journalism of the highest order.” — Graeme Dobell of the Lowy Institute for International Policy
• “This is the back-story to Thailand’s political convulsions, which is why scholars will be poring over the ‘Thaistory’, as will American diplomats and their embarrassed confidants.” — The Economist magazine’s Banyan blog
• “Marshall … offers an account of Thailand’s recent troubles that is unprecedented in its scope and candor, reaching back through the country’s history to provide insight into the current situation.” — Erika Fry in the Columbia Journalism Review

Some Thai discussion of the publication of #thaistory can be viewed here:

Although #thaistory is now five years old, and therefore slightly out of date, it remains very useful to help make sense of what is happening in Thailand following the death of King Bhumibol Adulyadej on October 13.

In particular, it is still worth reading chapter 1 on royal succession, chapter 2 on Crown Prince Vajiralongkorn, and chapter 4 on the military and lèse majesté.

#thaistory is available free for anybody who wants to read it. You can view and download a PDF version here. There is no obligation to pay for it, but contributions are welcome from those who find it valuable — there is a link within the document if you want to donate.

I wrote #thaistory because I wanted to do something good for Thailand. I hope you find it useful.

#THAISTORY was originally published in zenjournalist on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Some reflections on Thai royalism

Thailand’s 21st century political conflict is a clash between those who believe all human beings are entitled to equal rights, and those who still refuse to accept this.

For hundreds of years, Thai society has been characterised by extreme inequality. The medieval Siamese kingdom of Ayutthaya was built upon rigid social hierarchy, with a despotic king and various ranks of status obsessed aristocrats exploiting and abusing ordinary people, who were treated like slaves and tattooed with numbers and symbols to show which nobleman they belonged to and had to serve.

British scholar H.G. Quaritch Wales, who was an advisor to King Vajiravudh and King Prajadhipok in the Thai royal court during the 1920s, wrote a frank account of traditional Thai society in his book Siamese State Ceremonies:

Five and a half centuries ago, King Trailok of Ayutthaya produced a voluminous set of laws governing Siamese society, which included an elaborate codification of the rigid social hierarchy. The status of each person in the kingdom was expressed in terms of a numerical score — with the exception of the king, because his status was infinite.

The crown prince had 100,000 points, other members of the royal family had up to 50,000, and various ranks of nobles had a score that ranged from 10,000 down to 400 points for the least powerful. Administrative officials had between 50 and 400 points, artisans 50, ordinary people 25, and slaves just 5 points. Unmarried peasant women were deemed lowlier than slaves, with no points at all.

Maintaining such a dystopian society requires plenty of force and coercion, but that’s not enough to sustain such savage exploitation and inequality for centuries. Ideology and social engineering are also necessary to persuade the downtrodden that they don’t deserve anything better, and to deter them from seeking to overthrow the system.

This was the purpose of royal propaganda and ritual. Legitimising a society built on subjugation and hierarchical status requires convincing people that those at the top really are superior beings, and that those underneath should be grateful to serve them.

So a royalist theology was constructed via a fusion of Hindu and Buddhist beliefs to present the king as a living god with supernatural powers. The nobility could then seek to justify their elevated status through their proximity to the divine monarch, and ordinary people were taught that it was a privilege to be exploited by such celestial beings.

Thais were trained to prostrate themselves at the feet of those of higher social status. They were forbidden to look directly at the king, or even to know his real name. And in a further extraordinary development, a separate language called rajasap was developed which had to be used when addressing or discussing the royal family.

It was a language designed for subjugation — when addressing the king, Thais had to state the phrase “ขอเดชะฝ่าละอองธุลีพระบาทปกเกล้าปกกระหม่อม”, which literally means: “May the power of the dust under the dust under the dust under the soles of your royal feet protect my head and the top of my head.”

As Paul Handley says in The King Never Smiles: “Coupled with prostration, this implies a deep sense of inferiority, but also high honor for being able to place the highest possible part of one’s body, the head, in proximity to the holy king’s most inferior part, his feet.”

The use of ideology, ritual and language to entrench inequality and exploitation was, of course, not unique to Thailand. Monarchies everywhere have always sought to pretend that those with royal blood are somehow special and superior to the rest of us.

They do this, for example, via special clothing and regalia for royal ceremonies, as well as “invented traditions” and fake historical narratives. A particularly common linguistic strategy, used across multiple cultures and languages, is for royals to refer to themselves using plural pronouns. This is called the “majestic plural” or the “royal we”.

But rajasap is a particularly striking example of a linguistic strategy for making the king seem special because it’s a totally different language, mainly based on Khmer. To speak the language one needs to learn a totally new vocabulary.

King Chulalongkorn officially abolished the custom of grovelling on the ground in 1873. “The practice of prostration in Siam is severely oppressive,” he stated in comments published in The Royal Gazette. “The subordinates have been forced to prostrate in order to elevate the dignity of their superiors. I do not see how the practice of prostration will render any benefit to Siam.”

Chulalongkorn also officially abolished slavery. But despite these gestures, Siam remained a caste ridden society, with an absolute monarch and nobility that exploited ordinary people with impunity.

This cartoon, published in the Siam Review in 1926, lampoons the attitudes of elite Thais.

The caption is: “Our custom of crawling.” The cartoon shows a foreigner and a wealthy Thai seated at a table with female servants grovelling at their feet alongside several dogs.

The foreigner asks: “Aren’t they Thai too?”

“Yes,” replies his host, “but they have less money than me.”

By the 20th century, the rest of the world had changed. In several places, the oppressed had risen up and overthrown their oppressors. It was becoming increasingly accepted that all human beings should have equal rights. This belief is central to the concept of democracy. A truly democratic society is one in which all voices have a right to be heard and everybody has an equal say in how their country should be governed.

In June 1932 a group of Thai officials and soldiers launched a revolution that ended the absolute monarchy. In their first proclamation, they explicitly declared their intention to “provide the people with equal rights” ( สิทธิเสมอภาคกัน) “so that those of royal blood do not have more rights than the people as at present” (ไม่ใช่พวกเจ้ามีสิทธิยิ่งกว่าราษฎร). They also made clear that “the country belongs to the people, not to the King, as he has fraudulently claimed” (ประเทศเรานี้เป็นของราษฎรไม่ใช่ของ กษัตริย์ตามที่เขาหลอกลวง).

Tragically, in the decades after the revolution, elite royalists and the military have conspired to stifle democracy and human rights, and drag the country back towards its despotic past.

From the late 1950s onwards, prostration and rajasap were reintroduced. Thais are exposed to the ancient and obsolete language daily, in the royal news broadcasts at 8 p.m. each evening. Thongchai Winichakul observes that via the rigid format of these broadcasts which always begin with the seniormost royals and then cover the others in descending order of rank, “Thais are reminded every day of the hierarchical social order”.

The palace propaganda machine continues to pretend that the royals are superior to ordinary people. Even the royal dogs are revered.

Ordinary Thais, meanwhile, are taught to take pride in their subservience, which they are told is an intrinsic part of their national culture. The state celebrates and encourages “Thainess”, a set of behavioural norms including obsequious deference to authority, unquestioning acceptance of official propaganda, and worship of the royal family. Those who object to such slavish behaviour are denounced as being unThai.

The persistence of archaic rituals of subjugation and royal worship has become toxic for Thailand. The education system is blighted: the elite fear teaching people how to think, because an educated populace would surely reject royalist propaganda. The rich routinely treat the poor with contempt. The justice system is utterly corrupt, with verdicts invariably going in favour of the highest bidder.

The system survives only thanks to stringent enforcement of the draconian lèse majesté law which outlaws challenges to the royalist culture of deference and social hierarchy.

As Thongchai says: “In effect, instead of protecting the monarchy, the law is a measure to control public culture concerning the monarchy by stipulating the boundary of what may be expressed and acted upon. The unpredictability of enforcement and the dubious interpretations serve this purpose even more effectively than a clear and consistent application of the law because the former induces self-censorship and a climate of fear.”

Thainess and democracy are utterly incompatible. Democracy is based on accepting that all people are equal and deserve equal rights. Thainess requires people to be grateful for being the dust under the dust under the feet of the king. This is why the Thai elite keeps trying to impose systems of “democracy with the king as head of state” or “Thai-style democracy” which are not democratic at all. They have never accepted the equality of all human beings.

Thainess is dying. In the 21st century, with a global culture that takes it for granted that all people deserve equal rights and that those with royal blood are just ordinary human beings just like the rest of us, the rituals and traditions that once reinforced reverence for royalty now have the opposite effect — their absurdity breaks the spell of deference.

King Bhumibol Adulyadej is dying too, and indeed his death will be a killer blow for the toxic ideology of Thainess — it is difficult to see how extreme royalism can survive when Crown Prince Vajiralongkorn is Rama X.

Bhumibol’s health problems illustrate another perennial problem for the palace propaganda machine to deal with — according to royalist ideology kings are superhuman figures, so when illness and old age expose how human they really are, it risks undermining the myths of monarchism.

As H.G. Quaritch Wales pointed out in Siamese State Ceremonies: “Illness and death are perhaps the greatest dangers that Divine Kingship had to face.” This was because acknowledging that “the King could be subject to the ills of the flesh as were ordinary mortals” contradicted the mythology that royals were godlike beings. For this reason, it was forbidden to discuss the health of the king, or to mention that one day he would die.

When King Chulalongkorn died due to kidney failure in October 1910, it came as a shock to most Thais who had been unaware how serious his condition was. Because it was taboo to discuss Chulalongkorn’s medical issues openly, his condition had been kept secret. Just 48 hours before his death, his most senior queen, Saovabha Phongsri, had reported: “His Majesty has improved in all respects.”

Even in the 21st century, the taboo on saying that kings eventually die — just like the rest of us — partially persists. Thai media tend not to mention that Bhumibol will die one day, while foreign media mostly use euphemisms such as “passing from the scene” or “leaving the scene”. And although the palace now issues regular health updates when the king is ill — in contrast to past reigns — they are mostly fictional, concealing the seriousness of his condition and always claiming that Bhumibol’s health is improving.

Leaked diplomatic cables show how readily the palace lies about Bhumibol’s health. When the king was hospitalised in October 2007, the palace said the problem was “inadequate blood flow to his left cerebral cortex, resulting in weakness on the right side of his body”. In fact, as palace officials acknowledged to the U.S. ambassador, Bhumibol suffered a stroke. The palace also lied when the king was hospitalised on September 16, 2009 — it waited four days to make a statement, and then gave September 19 as the date he entered hospital.

By now, however, Bhumibol is so ill that even when sugarcoated, his health bulletins make grim reading. The last three health updates issued by the palace have all noted that Bhumibol is suffering from acute kidney failure. Many Thais believe his death is imminent.

The recent health bulletins have mentioned that Bhumibol has been unable to produce sufficient urine due to his kidney problems. And because all discussion of royal matters has to be conducted in the rajasap language, the palace statements use a special word for Bhumibol’s urine.

The usual Thai word for urine is ปัสสาวะ, pronounced pasawa.

But the king’s urine is พระบังคนเบา, or phra bang kon bao.

It is absurdities like this that make exaggerated reverence for royalty untenable in the 21st century. People are smart enough nowadays to see that a crown is just a ridiculous and impractical hat. And regardless of what you call it, royal urine is no more special than anybody else’s. In life, in illness, and in death, we are all human. No more, and no less.