In an AP
wirereport out of Pine Bluff, Arkansas, a
hard of hearing 107-year-old man barricaded himself into a room with a weapon.
The police dispatched a SWAT squad. One of the cops, Sgt. David DeFoor, who shot
and killed centenarian Monroe Isadore, had been placed on administrative leave
but not charged with a crime. The evidence was that the elderly Mr. Isadore had
a memory problem and was in a confused state as one would expect of someone over
a hundred years old.
Monroe Isadore, 107 years old
The death of Mr. Isadore
may be a peek into the bleak future for the elderly in a law enforcement system
that is a cross between Robocop and the Terminator. What if instead of being
shot, Monroe Isadore had been sent to prison? That is the kind of question a
novelist asks in a case like this one. Mr. Isadore’s death started to wondering
about the old people who are in prison.
We are living longer and
there is evidence that becoming older is not necessarily becoming wiser. What
does it mean for the elderly to live in an age of quasi-militarized police
forces armed to the teeth with armored carriers adapted from the battlefield?
There may be more cases like this, if America’s lack of coherent policies to
fund the care of the elderly and mentally illed means, by default, the SWAT team
being dispatched to put the old man out of his misery.
2005 aired an NPR program on America’s elderly prison population. She
interviewed 93-year-old John Rodriquez. He wasn’t the oldest prisoner she found
in an American prison. That honor went to 99-year-old Ivory Lee Johnson (New
Jersey), followed by 98-year-old Burt Jackson (Utah), and 95-year-old Michael
These men had a record for
crime and a record for longevity. I suspect that Monroe Isadore will go down in
the Guinness Book of World Records as the oldest man ever to be shot by a police
officer. Had he survived the shooting, it would have surely captured the oldest
man behind bars.
Reginald Davies, 78 years old
America has a knack for establishing the
world record for imprisoning or shooting old men. Britain comes into the
competition a miserable distance behind with a 78-year-old sex offender named
Reginald Davis whose criminal record dates from 1949.
In the case of crime, most
reports include photographs of young men who have been arrested or who are
While most crimes
historically have been committed by the young, as the population in most places
ages, the prospect of the elderly breaking the law and being imprisoned has been
increasing. In the 2005 NPR
on elderly prisoners in America, it was noted that “California’s central
repository for elderly inmates looks like a cross between a nursing home and a
hospital. . .There are no guards, no guns, no locked doors, just nurses in
pastel uniforms and inmates in hospital gowns wandering freely in wheelchairs.
Many have thinning gray hair and old tattoos long-faded under wrinkled
The number of
prisoners over the
age of 55 is the fastest growing population in federal and state prisons. It is
much worst in the American southern states (where Mr. Monroe Isadore was killed)
where the average elderly prisoner population increased by a staggering 145%
between 1997 and 2007.* This is during a period where crime has generally
decreased. Another factor that will over time convert prisons into long term
nursing facilities is the huge number of prisoners serving life sentences. The
ACLU in 2012 reported that elderly inmates have climbed 1300% since the
The trend of more elderly
in prison runs counter to the general trend of declining U.S. prison population.
The U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Justice
indicates a downward trend overall in the last three years ending in
“that the number of sentenced state and federal prisoners aged 65 or older grew
at 94 times the rate of the overall prison population between 2007 and 2010. The
number of sentenced prisoners aged 55 or older grew at six times the rate of the
overall prison population between 1995 and 2010.”
Human Rights Watch makes
the point that prisons were never to serve as geriatric wards. They were built
to house young, healthy prisoners. Times have changed and prisons are
increasingly facing the problems of a nursing home but without the facilities,
staff and training programs to deal with the problems of the elderly. The
prisons, like the police, don’t seem to be dealing with the special issues that
effect the elderly who are “frail, have mobility, hearing, and vision
impairments, and are suffering chronic, disabling, and terminal illnesses or
diminishing cognitive capacities.”
To look after the needs of
the elderly increases the expense of maintaining and running prisons. With the
privatization of America’s prison system, where the corporation is cutting costs
to return a profit to shareholders, this seems an unlikely model for financing
the special needs of old prisoners. For example, would the corporate prison
company fund a budget for eye glasses, hearing aids, wheelchairs, walkers,
canes, pacemakers, hip replacement, false teeth and other age-related expenses?
To give you an idea of the difference between the cost of incarceration by aged,
York NGO Committee on Ageing has found that “In general a
younger prisoner costs about $22,000 per year while an older person can cost as
much as $65,000 per year.”
The numbers of
the elderly in
American prisons will continue to explode over the next seventeen years. “By the
year 2030, there will be upward of 400,000 elderly prisoners — nearly a third of
the projected total penal population, said Inimai Chettiar, a director at the
Brennan Center for Justice at NYU School of Law and the co-author of the ACLU
It is easy to see how the
treatment of elderly prisoners can become a human rights issue. I’d also
encourage you to read the ACLUreport
which is an comprehensive review of the problems raised by the growing
elderly prisoner population in the United States. The large numbers of all
prisoners, including the elderly are the consequence of what the ACLU calls the
“tough on crime” and “war on drugs” policies of the 1980s and 1990s.
Here’s a video on the root
causes behind the elderly prisoner problem.
As for Monroe Isadore, he
may be the first in a long line of old men who are killed by SWAT teams. That is
one sorry way to save the cost of incarceration. When a country demands other
countries respect the human rights of their citizens, that country might start
by showing respect for the dignity of its own elderly citizens.
If you are looking to
break into the novel writing game, you might consider a series featuring an
elderly private eye who accepts cases to help the old who find themselves in
trouble with the law. I predict that it would be a best seller.
* The Bureau of Justice
Statistics shows in 2012, states with the highest imprisonment rates included
Louisiana (893 per 100,000 state residents), Mississippi (717 per 100,000 state
residents), Alabama (650 per 100,000 state residents), Oklahoma (648 per 100,000
state residents), and Texas (601 per 100,000 state residents).
George Orwell’s 1940
review of Tropic
of Cancer is worth revisiting for several reasons. Not least of
which is the critical lens that one novelist uses to examine, evaluate and
analyze another novelist’s work. Reviews often reveal as much about the biases
of the reviewer as they do with the book under review.
Orwell’s review details a
bias about Miller’s class (working class), nationality (American), and art (he’s
a failure) and politics (the absence of political context). Orwell’s
sensibilities were fashioned at Eton; Millers on the hardscrabble streets of
Brooklyn. Orwell’s sympathies were with the working class; Miller was from the
American working class. In the English world of 1940 the class distinction would
have been a significant factor in the literary world where the Orwells were
expected to write meaningful books and the D.H. Lawrences given a shovel and
told to dig coal. It is important to remember the rigidity of class divide and
everything that flows from it whenever an Orwell reviews a Lawrence.
Reading Orwell’s review of
Henry Miller is at times painful when his class talons are involuntarily
exposed. His review of Tropic of Cancer displays the conflict between
the ideal of what the working class consciousness ought to be—politically
attuned—and the reality of Miller’s working class absolute focus on the sensual
to the exclusion of the larger political framework.
Henry Miller and D.H.
Lawrence broke free of the bonds of their culture and class by travelling and
living abroad. In Orwell’s case, fighting in a foreign civil war (The Spanish
Civil War) showed a commitment to overcome the walls of class and upbringing and
how very hard a road that is to travel. Orwell sought a literary life devoted to
repudiating the chains of his class. In his review of Miller, it seems for
Orwell that those chains were never fully severed.
Orwell wrote Down
and Out in Paris and London where Miller set The Tropic of Cancer. Both
books were intensely autobiographical. He may have had a propriety feeling about
his Paris. This is a kind of old hand attitude that one finds in many places
including Bangkok where the old days were always better, more alive, more
interesting and stimulating. Orwell couldn’t quite figure out why Henry Miller
would bother with Paris after the golden age of the late 1920s when “there were
as many as 30,000 painters in Paris, most of them imposters.” Paris was swamped
with “artists, writers, students, dilettanti, sight-seers, debauchees, and plain
idlers as the world has probably never seen.” Though Orwell didn’t live long
enough to see a similar accumulation of people in Bangkok in the late 1980s and
early 1990s. For Orwell, the Paris scene populated by the expats of the 1920s
had vanished by the time Henry Miller arrived to find “bug-ridden rooms in
working-men’s hotels, of fights, drinking bouts, cheap brothels, Russian
refugees, cadging, swindling and temporary jobs.”
George Orwell, an old
Paris hand, felt that 1930s Paris (it was no longer his Paris) had less
promising material for a novelist. Actually, it comes across even stronger; he
thought Paris was a waste of time, a distraction in the larger European theatre,
a spent force where nothing of interest would emerge. By comparison, in Orwell’s
view there was vastly more interesting material to be mined in Rome, Moscow and
Berlin as Hitler and Stalin worked the military and political levers pushing
toward war. The fact is, by the time of this review Orwell had the advantage of
hindsight. Henry Miller was writing in Paris in the 1930s before the war
started. To strike Miller with a cross-over punch to the jaw for not
anticipating the future outcome is an easy shot as the fist is coming from an
arm originating in 1940.
To ignore the European
political developments, to Orwell’s mind you were “either a footler or a plain
idiot.” [Note: A footler is someone who wastes time or talks nonsense.] Orwell
chose not to answer in which of those categories Henry Miller’s Tropic of
Cancer fell. But it was plain to Orwell that Miller’s literary credibility
was on the line. Or more graphically, he was driving a stake through the heart
of a minor monster that no one should take seriously. He wanted to grab Miller
by the throat and shouted in his face, “You fool, what about Hitler?
Concentration Camps? Forget about bonking and look what is happening around you
at the gathering forces of history which are building to send you and the rest
of the working class back to the battlefield!”
While Orwell came to the
brink, he blinked and chose to sidestep the absence of political context and the
fact that Paris had become a backwater. Despite a silver literary stake driven
through Miller’s heart, Orwell concluded that Miller’s book was ‘a very
remarkable book.’ That is a remarkable observation given Orwell’s doubt about
the value of a novel “written about American dead-beats cadging drinks in the
What brought Orwell around
despite his obvious reservations about Miller’s choice of where to set the book
and the lack of even a remote bit of interest in the larger political clouds
forming over Europe, including Paris, at the time the story was set, was that
Miller was genuine working class. As much as Orwell fought for and wrote about
the working class, he was never a member of that class. Orwell was as much an
outsider to the working class as Miller was to the French in Paris, and for the
same sort of reasons—attitude, education, and sensibility.
What saved Tropic of
Cancer and made it linger in his memory, was that Miller was about to
‘create a world of their own’, not based on the strange but the familiar.
Miller’s genius was in letting the reader know that he or she was being
understood. Miller’s reader would say, “He knows all about me. He wrote this
specially for me.” There is no humbug, moralizing, trying to persuade you to
understand his perspective or values. What Orwell valued was that Miller
dispensed with the usual lies and simplifications and instead wrote about
“recognizable experiences of human beings.” Miller gave the reader that the
things he was writing about were happening to you.
The nature of the
experience chosen by a writer mattered a great deal to Orwell. It is interesting
that Orwell who was born in India and was a colonial official in Burma (and
whose first novel was Burmese
Days) should take a negative view of expatriate life and the
role of authors writing about such lives. He noted that Miller’s book wasn’t
about “people working, marrying and bringing up children” but about people who
lived and survived by their wits on the street, visited cafes, brothels and
studios. Orwell believed that expatriate writers transferred their ‘roots into
shallower soil’ as a result of concentrating on these experiences.
For Eton educated Orwell,
I suspect what he secretly loved about Tropic of Cancer was his feeling
Miller was interested in bringing what was common in the real life of ordinary
people with all of its callous coarseness out into the open. What he secretly
envied was Miller’s class credentials. Orwell might have lived down and out in
Paris but his self-imposed suffering could never have made him a member of the
working class. Orwell fought alongside the working class in the streets of
Barcelona. Henry Miller drank and fornicated in the Latin Quarter. Tropic of
Cancer made it clear that it was one thing to make an intellectual commitment to
the working class, argue their cause, fight their battles, but quite another
thing to become an authentic spokesman of their emotions and desires.
Miller laid open the lives
through their spoken language. “Miller is simply a hard-boiled person talking
about life, an ordinary American businessman with intellectual courage and a
gift for words.” There is no protest about the horror and meaninglessness of
contemporary life. In its place, Miller had written a book about someone whose
life circumstances should have made them miserable but instead, in the case of
Henry Miller, he was incredibly happy. Such an epiphany must have been a slap in
the face for someone committed to the struggle of the working class.
In contrast, Orwell
thought James Joyce was an artist who turned ordinary working class life into
art. Miller was the tabloid writer who entered the mind of the ordinary person
and his words to the ears of one who marched on the playing fields of Eton had
not gone through the usual filters that censored language and
What separate the two men
transcends class, nationality and politics. It comes down to Orwell’s view of a
writer at all times and all places which is to resist fear, tyranny and
regimentation. When Orwell looked up from Tropic of Cancer, what
horrified him wasn’t the language or whoring, it was Miller’s acceptance of
‘concentration camps, rubber truncheons” as well as Hitler, Stalin, machine
guns, putsches, purges, gas masks, spies, provocateurs, censorship, secret
prisons, and political murders. For Orwell it was unthinkable for a serious
writer to ‘accept civilization as it is practically means accepting decay.’
Orwell makes the case that Miller’s point of view was passive and he laid down
and with a sense of resignation and let things happen to him.
reflection, who are the characters in Tropic of Cancer? They aren’t the
ordinary factory worker or family in the suburb, but “the derelict, the
déclassé, the adventurer, the American intellectual without roots and without
money.” And what evaluates and saves Tropic of Cancer is isolated by
Orwell to one crucial factor: Miller ‘had the courage to identify with it” as he
was part of this group. He didn’t look down on them, try to explain or justify,
he reported their lives, troubles, loves, sensual preoccupation.
Orwell was a political
writer who used the form of the novel to great effect in 1984 and
Animal Farm. He would hardly be the reader of choice for a novel
preoccupied with sex among American expats in Paris in the 1930s. For him the
sensual man was out of fashion, it was the time of the political man to take a
stand on principle. Miller’s Tropic of Cancer accepts a world with
endless cycles of violence, greed, aggression, inequality, and injustice as
largely unchangeable, and that the best chance anyone has is for an escape from
the constraints of the madness and limits of one’s own culture and exploring
their emotions inside a new culture. Both Orwell and Miller lived in a
pre-global world. Literature and writers were identified with their nationality
and class. This is less true in our modern world. To read Orwell’s essay on
Henry Miller is to see how far we have travelled since 1940 in terms of what
readers expect of authors, and what authors’ expect from each other.
American Henry Miller was
an escape artist, a hustler, and sensualist. Englishman Orwell was a Barcelona
street fighter and British colonial official. The divide between the two men
could hardly have been greater in terms of personality, education, temperament,
and philosophy. The gap between Eton and the working class slums of Brooklyn was
huge. For all of those differences, though, Orwell saw why Miller had attracted
readers—he brought them into a story, never talked down to them, and made them
feel they should step inside and join him on a grand odyssey of the sensual
world that was recognizable and real and spoke directly to their own
That part of Orwell’s
review is as true today as it was in 1940. The social, economic and political
distance between Orwell and Miller’s consciousness may be greater today. Few
novelists have taken up the cause of the working class struggle. That fell with
the Berlin Wall and in place of a wall is a growing inequality, repression and
acceptance. It seems that Miller may have won in the end. What is important to
remember is that Orwell took Miller seriously. In 2013 writers situated along
this divide are receding like galaxies traveling at the speed of light away from
each other. Soon they will no longer have evidence the ‘other’ ever existed. As
recently reported in the New York
novelists are no longer critically review each other’s books. The competition
for money, academic position and literary prizes has silenced a generation of
novelists too afraid and timid to speak truth not just to authority but to each
There is a fifty-year
publishing anniversary that needs celebration. It has to do with the meaning of
insanity and related terms. Our use of language in every day conversation—in
novels, movies, newspapers, TV, and on the Internet—changes the meaning of terms
from the past. Take the trio of insanity, craziness and
madness. Those three ideas have been around since we’ve had language,
and one day someone will find from big data on the development of language, that
one reason we acquired language was to keep tabs on people who the community
thought weren’t quite right in the head.
It has been 50 years since
the Kesey novel One
Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was released. That makes it a good time to revisit and
ask questions about how insanity, craziness and madness remain powerful and
effective tools to protect state power and authority.
The film based on Ken
Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, won five Oscars. The book and
film struck a chord with the Academy and filmgoers. McMurphy could be any of us
who pushed back against authority. McMurphy, a criminal in the prison system
with a relatively short sentence to serve, thought he was clever in gaming the
system by being transferred from prison to a mental hospital. He challenged the
power of the head nurse. What he discovered that he was inside a system that
could keep him indefinitely and no law, no institution, no authority could
prevent the head nurse or her staff from using the full range of ‘treatments’
(in the name of medical science) to break him (or from their point of view, cure
If you are
anti-authoritarian, then you run the McMurphy risk of being labeled insane,
rebellious, and troublesome. You go on a list. Nothing that you can do as
McMurphy found out will prevent the authorities from carrying out a lobotomy. At
the end of the story, the Chief sees what they’ve done to McMurphy whose
unresponsive face is a testament to the power of the State who employ the words
‘insanity’, ‘craziness’ and ‘madness’ with the precision of drones.
Insanity is both a legal
and medical term. Madness and craziness are ordinary, common usage to describe
abnormal mental acts of another person. Political correctness has erased
insanity, madness and craziness and instead discussions that would have used
‘insanity’ now refer to ‘mental disorders.’
Science has dispatched
madness and craziness to the old world of magic, herbal cures, and shaman
trances. Science has replaced the local shaman with doctors, nurses, scientists,
and psychiatrists. That has been called progress and a victory over superstition
and backwardness. In the 50 years since the novel was published, science hasn’t
been successful in changing the attitude, nature, and emotions of mankind. In
1963, the medical workers, in the name of ‘science’, doomed McMurphy. Science
acted then, as it does now, as a good cover for those in power to legitimatize
the repression of people like McMurphy.
It is difficult to say
what is more dangerous—the old witchdoctor non-scientific approach, or the new
science, medical approach. A person’s liberty should stand on magical thinking
of superstitious people. It is cruel and senseless and barbaric. Has science has
put an end to the era of witchdoctors? Many people are doubtful. The history of
insanity correlates not as one would wish with the developments in science. The
idea that science brings progress and the ways of a superstitious people are
left in the past. What we are discovering is that science is creating better
tools for lobotomy for critics and opponents. Insanity, craziness, and madness
become mud-slinging words hurled against the rise of new ideas, philosophies,
Don’t forget that at the
end of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest it was Nurse Ratchet who won. In
2013 we have a new cast of Nurse Ratchet’s and McMurphy’s and every indication
that the outcome will be the same as it was in 1963.
Remember the bottle thrown
from the plane in the Gods Must Be
Whenever a tribe comes in contact with an unknown technology, instability of the
existing system of belief and thought starts to list like an oil tanker that’s
rammed a reef. Soon the peaceful tribe is racked with high emotions such as
hatred and envy and violence follows as the hotheads arm themselves to control,
own, and monopolize the novel invention. At the end of this 1980 film the hero
Xi throws the bottle over a cliff and returns to his village.
But the days when the hero
could return the world to its pre-bottle ways is over.
What is new is not a
bottle thrown from a plane, but the Big Data quietly culled, stored, and
analyzed into marketing, economic policy, and dissent suppression. That bottle
won’t be thrown over a cliff. It is here in the village to stay. New tools to
spot and isolate (or control) the ‘hostile disruptions’ increase the reach to
track and watch people who are ‘mad’, ‘crazy’ or ‘insane’. Though you will be
less likely to see those terms used. As insanity has been tainted by the long
history of loose standards, terrorism has been copied and pasted in places where
insanity, madness and craziness were commonly found.
The mental health issue
always has risked being politicized into a campaign to reduce violence, and
maintain security and order. We don’t have to look very far back in history
before we stumble upon the inconvenient truths about state authorities using
mental health as a method of repression and control.
A list of from the Reasons
for Admission used by Trans-Allegheny Lunatic
1864 to 1889 gives an idea of the range of thinking and acts that landed you in
the bunk next to McMurphy. These 19th century reasons describe the
mental state or behavior of a person before being admitted to the asylum. From
the 1963 film of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest a case could be made
that much on the list below had survived well into the 20th century.
A case can be made that dressed up in different terms, the list will still be
sufficient to catch the 2013 version of McMurphy.
Business nerves and bad
company along with brain fever, sexual derangement, dissolute habits and women
trouble could fit about 90% of the writers I have met over the years. The
reasons associated with the definition of crazy may explain why many people view
writers, painter, dancers and others as belonging under the big tent of art as
crazy or insane. The point is people who don’t wish to or are incapable of
fitting into morality and norms of their society are by definition
psychologically abnormal and their alternative way of living might be further
evidence of abnormality. Religious or ideological fanatics see other
non-believers as abnormal. Our technology hasn’t updated the definition, only
the power and capability of tracking people who fit one of the categories, of
The clear and present
danger of the concept of Insanity that finally caught up with
McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest has been summarized: a term
that “may also be used as an attempt to discredit or criticise particular ideas,
beliefs, principals, desires, personal feelings, attitudes, or their proponents,
such as in politics and religion.”
In 2013 would McMurphy’s
outcome have been any different? Have the last 50 years with all of our advance
technology given us better outcomes? Or are we still back at the gate of
Trans-Allegheny Lunatic asylum, where McMurphy is put out of his misery and the
Chief’s only hope is to escape as fast as one can from the clutches of
repressive power. There is a big difference. In 1963 escape was an option. In
2013, Nurse Ratchet’s forces would find the Chief and he would end up like
Whether you identify with
the Chief or McMurphy doesn’t matter. It is Nurse Ratchet’s world. One Flew
Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was a warning unheeded. We live in the shadow of the
Reasons for Admission to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. As ‘novel reading’
is one of the grounds for admission, you’ll forgive me if I put on my track
shoes and go looking for where the Chief has gone to ground.
The website www.bribespot.com is devoted to citizens from around
the world who complain that state authorities have demanded bribes to overlook
infractions of the law or as an additional, informal condition to receiving a
benefit or service. Corruption can occur around the edges of a political system,
or may have developed as part of the culture.
Here’s a recent example of
a posting from Thailand by a motorist who paid Baht 200 ($5.00) to the
Lane Rama IV Road, near Bangkok University, direction Theptarin
They: 6-8 Police, most likely from Tha Rua Station were waving “all”
motorbikes to stop. 2 were blocking left+middle lane.
Officer: You were not driving as req on the left lane but in the middle
lane & showed me a plastic home-made-menu-pricelist lamented sheet with a
list of all offenses & their prices. On the list: Driving in Middle Lane =
Me: But how can I be on the left lane, if u guys are blocking it and I
need to swap to the right lane to make a U-turn? Shall I fly over?
Officer: Give me 400thb or u go police station & this take long
Me: opening the purse and taking out 200 thb and telling him I not pay
more than 200thb (had a meeting and was in rush).
Officer: literally pulling my 200thb out of the purse and saying: Now you
Q: Is it illegal to drive in the middle lane to change lanes? Only in
Thailand. Police Officers I guess, they fly over the middle lane.”
It is useful to start with
an understanding of what corruption means. Corrupt or corruption derives from
the Latin corruptus meaning to abuse or destroy. Corruption manifests
on several scales:
1) petite scale –
when bribery in the form of small gifts and personal favours and is tolerated
within the larger normative values of the community;
scale – found in regimes run by a narrow circle of plutocrats or tyrants
where the political, social and economic institutions are subverted for the gain
of the tyrants and their cronies;
scale – where process and institutions are weak and are found in a culture
of impunity where state authorities have little or no fear in exacting personal
benefits. The weak institutions indeed may feed and indirectly encourage
corruption by paying a low salary to employees and turn a blind eye when they
supplement their salary through bribes.
Wikipedia has this definition of corruption
in the context of policing:
Police corruption is a specific
form of police misconduct designed to obtain financial
benefits, other personal gain, and/or career advancement for a police officer or
officers in exchange for not pursuing, or selectively pursuing, an investigation
or arrest. One common form of police corruption is soliciting and/or accepting
bribes in exchange for not reporting
organized drug or prostitution rings or other illegal activities. Another
example is police officers flouting the police code of conduct in order to secure convictions of
suspects — for example, through the use of falsified evidence. More rarely, police officers may
deliberately and systematically participate in organized crime themselves.
We will have at some stage
Big Data from sites like www.bribespot.com to see patterns in the behavior of
state officials. It may be that the data will confirm that at the end and start
of the month, and near major holidays that bribe taking increases as officials
are under pressure to pay rents, school fees, or buy gifts. What bribespot.com
relies on is self-reporting. It is difficult to assess how representative of the
problem are the cases that people choose to report. This takes effort to do. I
suspect that most people can’t be bothered to self-report.
The other problem with
corruption reporting is that, by its inherent nature, secretive and
non-transparent, that it is difficult to prove. The motorist says the cop asked
for a bribe, the cop says that is a lie. He said, she said is an eternal loop
and the law mostly favors the police in the case of doubt. People aren’t stupid.
They know that without concrete evidence, they are wasting their time to
complain. And if they complain, police who are corrupt are more likely to
intimidate a whistleblower than non-corrupt police. As the theory goes, once the
cops break one pillar of the law, it is much easier to knock out other pillars
to protect themselves against the law.
August 21st 2013 ran an editorial titled “Corruption is a two-way
street” by blaming the corrupt official and the person paying the
bribe. The editorial concludes that to be effective to stop corruption action
must be taken against the state official and the person paying the
This proposed formula to
solve the problem of corruption in my opinion is fundamentally flawed and fails
to address the underlying causes. It treats all cases of bribery at the same
level—one corrupt state official, one citizen paying the bribe. The illegal
gambling casinos run by state authorities is an example of how corruption is
often a one-way street. In some systems, the corruption is closer to an
expressway rather than a two-way street, with eight-lanes filled with traffic.
That is the problem with thinking of political solutions in terms of metaphors.
They quickly fall apart when the metaphor is expanded to expose the scope of the
problem. The approach championed by the editorial would be as effective as
asking people to drop suggestions into an anti-corruption box.
As we’ve seen in the
categories above, bribery falls into a number of distinct categories, each of
which has special issues and problems that should be addressed.
In the second category,
the Grand Scale, treating the bribe payer in a system of tyrants that act as
rentiers and extractors as wealth and resources as equal to state
officials, is missing the larger issue. It is the nature of how power is
allocated and abused throughout the system. Corruption is a symptom of a much
more fundamental political issue. To focus on the bribe payer is a distraction,
it is irrelevant to finding an overall solution.
The same analysis applies
to the third category, the Institutional Scale, where justice system operates
with weak, highly flawed law enforcement institutions. The state officials act
with impunity. To suggest that the bribe payer is an equal bargaining partner
with such an official neglects the power and authority that can be effectively
employed to compel a target by placing them under duress such as torture,
imprisonment, heavy penalties unless a bribe is paid. To call this a two-way
street would require a radically different view of how streets, rules and
traffic are interconnected.
Thailand falls into the
first and third category. It is a gift-giving culture and bribery is the
slippery slope that gift givers use to glide out of a legal jam or to obtain a
state concession or benefit. Many Thais don’t view the giving of small gifts to
officials as a bribe. The attitude is reflected in the Thai phrase sin
namjai—something like “gifts from the heart.” It is part of being kind and
generous; the gifts give both the gift-giver and gift-receiver face, with the
benefit of oiling the social wheels and keeping them moving. Such a gift-giving
tradition comes from a system of ancient attitudes that worked in a small scale
agricultural based society (which most of Thailand remains).
The problem is the
attitudes are difficult to fit with law enforcement in large populated cities
where more and more people live. In places like Bangkok, the cop isn’t someone
the bribe payer knows and has a long connection to through family as would be in
a village. They are strangers. The giving of the money isn’t an act of kindness
and generosity; it is an act of desperation, made out of fear and anxiety.
The institutions of justice are weak as protection isn’t sought within an
institutional framework but within a network of connections where a patron
provides protection. The state officials are selective in enforcement of laws
depending on the rank and status of the person they ask for money. If that is an
important/influential person, then it is unlikely that a low-ranking state
official will even ask for a bribe.
The same principle extends
to protect the wives, children, relatives and immediate household of people of
power and status. It is not just state officials acting with impunity that is a
sign of weak justice system institutions, one also needs to look at the elites
and ask whether they can act with impunity. If the answer is the police and the
powerful are both immune, but others must comply with the law. Being in that
privileged position there no incentive to create a strong criminal justice as
that would make the powerful vulnerable. Weak institutions which they control
directly or through proxy, can be more easily controlled. The tacit promise of a
political system to keep the elites strong and institutions weak delivers: I’ll
scratch your back, if you scratch mine. And all this back scratching will occur
behind closed doors. It isn’t enough to say ‘don’t pay the bribe’ as that fails
to address the imbalance of the power relationships and the nature of how
impunity is distributed in a political/economic/social system.
Corruption shouldn’t be
viewed only through the lens of cops taking bribes. It involves tea money for
parents to pay to get into a school. Money paid for medical services or for
installation of water, sewer, or electricity. Whenever there is a government
service to be provided, the question is whether the officials administering the
system seek additional payments before authorizing or approving the benefit. If
the answer is yes, it likely follows that such the officials inside that
organization are not only corrupt, and the institution that employs them is weak
and can do nothing to counter the culture of corruption.
Corruption continues to
work because we still live in a small data world. In a few years after the
methods of surveillancehave advanced another technological leap and become prevalent, and
unstoppable, then it will be difficult for state authorities to maintain the
essential secrecy that is the lifeblood of corruption. The Big Data Political
System (BDPS)—the next stage of political evolution—we can expect advanced
computerized system to monitor the behavior and conduct of its human agents and
actors as well as the rest of us.
Our old more, simple world
of free choice is slipping away. Nothing is certain as to our future world will
greet us one morning. It may start with a news report: “A large majority of
people agree with urgent need for preventive detentions and secret
interrogations as a necessary precaution to support our government’s goal to
protect all citizens against terrorism and corruption.” It will use nouns and
not verbs. Actions will be downgraded, potential acts upgraded.
That morning may be sooner
than we imagine. We will kick ourselves for not suspecting that corruption like
terrorism while real, were a great cover for an invisible government to scale up
its own culture, priorities and institutions.
Systematic monitoring may
be sold and bought on the basis it ends corruption. But before you sign on, be
careful for what you wish for. You might be trading one old problem for ten new
problems. The BDPS coming soon to your country may extract a very high price in
terms of liberty and freedom. We may find that we are substituting one culture
of impunity for another. And we may long for the days, that we paid Baht 200 to
a Thai cop who demanded it even though we committed no traffic
Zoos in China are cutting
costs by a sleight of hand trick. In a Chinese privately run zoo called
“People’s Park” in the eastern city of Louhe, the sign on the front of a cage
says the animal inside is an African Lion. When Ms. Lui’s six-year son asks her
why the “African Lion” barks like a dog, she’s put in a curious
Tibetan Mastiff pretending to be an
A zookeeper said the real
African lion was unavailable being sent away for breeding. So the zoo may have
had no choice. The A world without choice is a phony, impoverished world trying
to be authentic and rich and failing at both. How do you explain
political/economic theory that forces consumers to accept one animal as
equivalent to another in order to cut the zoo’s operational costs to a
African Lion playing
Another cage in the same
zoo labeled “Snakes” had a couple of rats scurrying around hoping to be mistaken
as snakes. The
went on to report: “There was another dog in the wolf cage, while some foxes
were standing in for the leopards.”
It is bad enough for
animals to play themselves in captivity for human entertainment. Having to pose
as other animals must be confusing and humiliating. It’s sad that the zoo had no
choice. But even sadder are people who have no knowledge of choice when they are
seized by a negative feeling.
Many novels are like this
Chinese zoo. In reading a novel, one of my foremost pleasures is finding an
author who examines interior mental processes of the characters. Giving the
characters an authentic inner life is difficult. Fiction without great
characters will disappear quickly from mind. How does a writer go about
capturing the complexity of a character’s mind?
It is as difficult to
understand another’s emotional reactions to daily problems—someone cuts in front
of you in a queue, insults your intelligence, a taxi refuses to stop for you,
you’ve lost your keys, or passport, or can’t remember your passwords. These are
examples of banal annoyance that teaches us lessons about ourselves to
ourselves. The question is whether a character is open to lessons about his or
her feelings. Our feelings expose us to others in powerful ways that leave our
ideas far behind. In a memorable novel it is clear the characters also share our
frustrations, defeats, our sense of alienation. We want to know if they think
about their feelings, and if so how does that change the way they are in the
We look for something
beyond sharing. For example, we won’t like a character who is a Tibetan Mastiff
pretending to be an African Lion and not admitting to the lie. But if he is
lying and we as readers know what factors in his life against which he’s
struggling in his quest to continue the deception or overcome it, we’d be very
interested to know what has caused that ‘African Lion’ to bark like a
Like the six-year-boy at
the Chinese Zoo, we would question the dog-like nature of the lion. We’d turn
the pages to find out how others in the story will react to this lie and deal
with the situation. Will they share the delusion that the dog is a lion? Are you
as the reader supposed to share that delusion? Page after page, we search for
how a character life interest has brought him to this juncture. This point. This
cage. What transformations did he experience along the way? What conjunction of
events led him to crawl into that cage and take the attitude of something he
knew was a lie?
I’ve been reading Stephen
Examined Life. The book is part patient case study and part memoir
written by a British psychiatrist. Psychiatrists make a living in getting
patients to understand what in their past relationships and upbringing caused
them to bark like a dog when they are pretending to be a lion. A good novelist
does something similar in the creation of memorable characters. The profile of
the author’s tea with an old friend in London revealed the process required
before a closed mind opened. And it is in the opening of a mind that had been
shut off to oneself that hold our interest. The story is a good example of how a
character’s self-knowledge is what makes his story memorable, and why I am
writing about it here. The books we treasure and return to increase our
self-knowledge by learning the techniques others have used to gain
Dr. Grosz’s friend, a
famous radio personality, who suffered from depression and isolation, described
himself as negative, always looking for a flaw, a fault, or a reason to
criticize another person. Indeed he introduced the author to a new word:
captious. The friend defined ‘captious’ to mean someone who noticed and
expressed displeasure over trivial issues. Each transaction or event registered
as a victory or a defeat. He was talking about himself being not just critical
but petty critical. The author asked him if he thought the analysis over a
number of years had been helpful. The friend replied that he hadn’t resolved
that issue but he was more ‘aware.’
His self-awareness gave
him a feeling of choice at the moment he felt annoyed or upset. He could examine
the feeling prior to reacting. He could permit himself the right to feel that it
was his anger that was making him critical. Projecting the anger onto another as
a defect in them, rather than something coming from inside himself. He no longer
had to accept that the triggered emotion would automatically take control over
his reaction. Instead, he could observe the source of his feeling and ask: where
was it coming from? Was the source internal or external or mixed up?
What mattered was the
self-knowledge that he had a choice when he experienced negative feelings.
Without choice he’d lived without freedom in the truest sense of the word. To be
‘unfree’ is to be without choice. In that world of non-choice, you enter a cycle
triggered by criticism because you believe you have no other choice and lapse
into guilt for your conduct. He also could reflect on his years of therapy when
he thought of about his feelings. And that made him feel less lonely.
No noir story will match
the ones told by Big Data. In the future, noir stories will emerge from Big Data
only it won’t be fiction. Authors of crime fiction, noir, hardboiled, or
otherwise, are like monks writing manuscripts before the printing press. Our end
will be as noir as their end. Here’s the story of how that will come
I’ve thought of writing as
a way to discover and explore vanishing points, light fading to the void of
total darkness. That is the point where we can no longer predict what will
happen next. It is a brick wall. A blank. We stop at the door to the future and
are resigned it will never open.
Data: A Revolution, the authors Viktor Mayer-Schoenberger and Kenneth Cukier
have opened that door a crack. But don’t buy this book. You don’t seriously want
to know what is inside our near future in the Data-Time-Space
Towards the end of this
provocative book, the authors sum up: “The ground beneath our feet is shifting.
Old certainties are being questioned. Big data requires a fresh discussion of
the nature of decision-making, destiny, justice.”
That is only the beginning
of the transformation that will happen in our life time. It is already
happening, it’s started to come into the open. The huge weight and force of Big
Data and the hunger of power to own it, share it, distribute it, and exploit it.
We are in the middle of that big data war. Government officials and big business
owners are in their bunkers figuring out what to do next. No one has explained
clearly what is at stake, the options, or the current state of play. Big
Data, A Revolution attempts to provide context and meaning in an era where
data is no longer scarce or expensive, but readily available and infinitely
valuable in making predictions about future outcomes.
attitudes, and mental states will be predicted with an advanced probability
software and hundreds of millions equations—and that raises a number of
It is happening now as you
read this essay. You are the composite of your data; your choices, likes,
purchases, friends, emotional connections, and routine have been datafied. This
data of your past can’t be erased, deleted or changed; it will follow you
wherever you go into the future. The days of starting over are finished.
You can never go missing or disappear completely as you pull behind
yourself a history that is your digital DNA.
Your mental thumbprint is
now in the system and attached to this blog. It stopped there. Who else who has
ever read this blog is an association? That data is stored in the system.
Websites, blogs are hovered for information, and this how Big Data continues to
grow four time faster than America’s G.N.P. There is a probability that
your digital presence here means that you may share certain habits, buying
traits, or be connected to some free thinking troublemakers who also visit this
You can no longer control,
handle, supervise or understands the scale and scope of your data or the Big
Data. But we have seen nothing yet. Big Data is set to grow exponentially. Some
of that will be extremely useful in understanding and dealing with important
problems like climate change, curing diseases, or advancing entire domains such
as physics, chemistry, and mathematics. The assumption is that our understanding
of the world, describing it, predicting it is a limitation on quantification of
To fully exploit the
potential of big data we need to appreciate the scale and scope of the power
that comes from collecting, storing, distributing, selling and analyzing the
range of correlations that emerge when N=All. We will also pay a substantial
price. Big Data is not ours without some long-standing beliefs, habits,
attitudes and customs being changed. The next stage of development are data.
They are being built from masses of data as you read this essay. Real economic,
social and political owner will reside inside them.
Since the thirteenth
century, we have searched for answers about the world and behavior that are
precise and exact, and we seek out causation between events, people, and things.
Our quest is to know if what we believe about the world is true or false, right
or wrong, good or bad—we bring our moral and emotional sense of being in the
world in the cross-hairs when we address the implications of Big
Big data works not off
exactness; it is premises that reality is messy and the data can provide a
probability of what will emerge in the future. Big data promises a set of
predicted outcomes according to a scale of probability based on what will likely
happen. In turn, we give up the mission to understand why something has happened
or may happen. The ‘why’ question is one that asks about causes to explain what
is the nature of the world. Big Data leaves causation to the side because it is
not helpful. The messiness of reality renders inquires about causation and
precision less reliable. These ideas spring from an the old way of thinking when
sense had to be made out of limited information and data. Causation and
precision are relics of data scarcity and can be largely ignored as correlation
is sufficient in the world of Big Data. Limited or Little Data required us to
formulate a theory about what we’d expect the Little Data to prove, and then we
used the Limited Data to test as to whether it had proved or disproved the
theory. Think of climate change and theory of CO2 concentrations as the cause.
That’s the old way of using Limited Data modeling.
Randomness in large big
data gives a probability analysis that is more useful and predictive than a
targeted, sample size of data. Sampling of data, the default measurement of the
world, has become or will very soon become obsolete. Those conducting the data
gathering in the past lacked the tools (processing speed, storage facilities,
etc) to collect big data and the tools (software and algorithms) to analyze such
vast quantities of data. They opted for precision, sampling, and theory testing.
This old paradigm goes out the window with big data in many cases. With the full
dataset offered by big data, researchers can explore many more angles and
perspectives whether it is predicting the next bird flu outbreak or match fixing
in sumo wrestling matches in Japan.
Big data has the capacity
to scale entire populations of a city, region or country. Now when all telephone
calls, emails, Internet searches, Twitter mentions and retweets, and Facebook
‘likes’ are captured and stored, this isn’t a sampling; it is the whole
enchilada. “[W]e can accept some messiness in return for scale. ‘Sometimes two
plus to two can equal 3.9, and that is good enough.’”
We already have an example
of the limits of our capacity when tested against advanced algorithms. There are
chess algorithms that are used once the computer has six or fewer pieces left on
the board and allows the computer to processes the probability for
every possible move (N=all). The Big Data authors conclude,
“No human will ever be able to outplay the system.”
We have created a big data
system that is much better at making predictions about outcomes than we can make
using our native brain power. We humans have dropped down in the league ranking
of the best, fastest brain processing capacity in the world. In coming up with a
translation program, Google didn’t test a billion words, they used a trillion.
Its services cover 60 languages and are more accurate than other systems. It
won’t be long until computer translations, like playing chess, will perform
vastly better than any human being.
demonstrates the transition in thinking between viewing the reality of the world
as not only messy but one in which predictions of what will happen rest on
correlations that emerge from big data. Amazon has recommendations for you. Each
time you visit Amazon they remember your digital history and present you will
the kind of books that from your prior purchases indicate you are a ‘reader of
interest’. One-third of Amazon’s business is from buyers like you who
click on and buy the recommended purchase. For Netflix the percentage of online
rentals that come from a recommendation is seventy-five percent of all the
Amazon and Netflix offer
two good examples of how using probability tools can increase the revenue of a
company. There is no certainty that you will buy the recommended book on Amazon
or rent the recommended film online from Netflix, but you can see the
probability makes the effort pay off in rich rewards for both
Big Data can’t tell Amazon
why you buy a particular title. Indeed it is not interested in the why
question; it is focused on what you are likely to buy given your past purchases
and searches through their catalogue of books. The data opens up links that are
also useful. A secondary use of the same big data may show that California
international crime fiction readers are more probable to book a ticket to
Beijing, Tokyo, Hong Kong or Bangkok, and targeting them with discounted fares
may increase sales. The big deal about Big Data is that it has the potential for
multi-uses, and many of those uses only become apparent much later. That’s one
reason why storing data for long periods is in the interest of business and
governments, and they will fight to keep this option; they want indefinite
storage as they can’t predict what future technical and social dynamics might
arise and they want all of the cards, old and new, on the table.
We were born into an
information poor world. Our beliefs, political and social structures, our
science and education were created out of a small sampling of the information
about the world. We’ve spent our life making decisions, forming opinions and
making judgments based on limited data giving us precise, exact answers as to
the state of the world and each other. We are wired to look for causation. In
the big data world we are told this is delusion. There is no math that can
easily show causal links; but correlations are easily translated into
Big Data, the
book, looks at the risk of big data as it presents a real “risk [of] falling
victim to a dictatorship of data.” While Amazon uses algorithms to recommend
books, lawn mowers, watches, and clothes to you, there is the potential for
repression if the gathering, storage, use and distribution is left to be carried
out in secret. We don’t know the limits that push back against the collection
and use of Big Data. In a generation, people will look back and see our time as
the tipping point when we lost privacy. The big data world will continue to
strip away the possibility of privacy. Privacy existed because of the messiness
of information, it’s limited nature and the expense and difficulty of collecting
information about the world. You once had the power to divulge personal
information. In the average day, you willingly and largely unknowingly disclose
pieces of data about yourself—your likes, dislikes, activities, friends,
purchases, health, schooling, and plans. We’ve uploaded our life onto the common
Big Data network, a small fragment at a time, and by doing so we are forfeiting
our own privacy. Privacy as we know it will vanish.
Crime and punishment will
change as will opinions about proof beyond a reasonable doubt, and presumption
of innocence. If big data can show a correlation between a person’s big
data/information file that he has, say, a 79% chance of committing rape or
murder within the next three years, will the state make a decision that a
‘probable perpetrator’ should be removed from society in order to protect
society? The state would hold this person not because he’s committed a crime but
the prediction is high that he will commit the rape or murder in the future.
Many people may feel that with a high probability that the state should
intervene and prevent the harm from happening.
The Big Data
authors find that “the very idea of penalizing based on propensities is
nauseating.” The future causes a sense of vertigo. It doesn’t share our values,
our thinking, or account for difference between potential actions and the real
thing. The authors fall back on the premise that it isn’t the problem of big
data but the way we will use the predictions. The irony is the book is a call to
loosen our fixation on causation and theories, and to learn to embrace messiness
and predictability. When push comes to shove on preventive detentions, the
authors retreat back into the world of causation and find decisions based on
predictions ‘nauseating’. My view is once we jettison causation in the big data
world, the use of predictions won’t be easily caged inside Amazon and Netflix’s
world of recommendations. The data will get bigger, the prediction more
accurate, and once that happens ‘assigning’ guilt based on a person’s
particular act will appear as another example of medieval thinking.
An important takeaway from
Big Data is, “In the era of big data, however, when much of data’s
value is in secondary uses that may have been unimagined when the data was
collected, such a mechanism to ensure privacy is no longer suitable.” The debate
we will soon have is what is the continuing role of human agency in deciding
individual responsibility for actions. Another part of that debate will be
whether the decisions of big data will ultimately be made by machines. Humans
will likely never fully understand or control the moves any more than an
international grand master of chess in a game against Big Blue. Time moves on as
does the debate; and the tools continue to improve, faster processors, larger
memory capacity, better algorithms, and we wake up one day to find that
“rational thought and free choice” are no longer part of a world that we
The data story doesn’t end
with Big Data. There is no endgame as has always been the case with new
technologies. Each innovation seems so incredible that we can’t imagine an
improvement Remember the Beta cassettes? Our current technologies for Big
Data will look like Beta cassettes in 5 to 10 years. Probably much sooner. As
the period of change has accelerated from centuries to decades to years and
looks ready to upend existing technologies in months. This period is a prelude
to a much bigger transition in humanity’s quest to understand the world, and our
place in it. We have gone “from compass and sextant to telescope and radar to
today’s GPS.” Compared to the promise of what lies in our immediate future, our
existing technologies to harness Big Data will be judged by future generations
as closer to finger painting a horse on a cave wall.
Buy Big Data and
give it to someone you want to give a freight load of sleepless nights. My
predictions about scale and scope of big data, what will replace it, and how we
will change our values and attitudes as a result, are beyond what we now know.
It seems that all bets are off that this transition will be easy or smooth.
Adjust to the fact that others will have infinitely greater information about
you than you can ever imagine. You have become datafied. You can’t shake free,
you can’t hide, you can’t go missing, and you can’t even hold your own
The founder of Amazon has
bought The Washington Post. Will the owner use the newspaper to suggest
recommendations to politicians and others as to what policies, regulations and
laws are the ones they should adopt? Will somewhere between one-third and
seventy-five percent of The Washington Post click on and download those
recommendations into their memory? The sale of the Washington Post is
not just another sale of a newspaper to someone who is very rich, it is the sale
of the newspaper to one of the founders of the new paradigm of gathering and
distributing information. It is as if the owner of printing press bought a
failing monastery and scribes writing manuscripts. You know that change is
You’d be a fool to bet
against the odds that one morning you we wake up to the fact that you live
inside a data panopticonand there is anyway out. Not heard of
panopticon? Get use to seeing more reference to that word. It is the prevailing
metaphor of our time.
Psychology, economic, law
and mathematics have interesting perspectives on the dynamics between two or
more people who must decide to co-operate or betray the other person to minimize
Here’s an example of how
the Prisoners Dilemma works. Two suspects, Larry and Carl are arrested after a
warehouse break in. The circumstantial evidence indicates they were the guilty
party. Circumstantial evidence may be insufficient convict, and if both of the
suspects co-operate and say nothing to the police, they will both walk free.
Experienced criminals know the, but not all suspects are experienced and they
are anxious and afraid and the good cop/bad cop can do wonders to convince one
to defect and incriminate the other person.
Larry is told that if he
co-operates by testifying against his partner, Carl, then Larry will walk out
free and Carl will get three years. They also tell Larry that Carl has been
offered the same deal, so don’t wait too long or it will be you serving the
three year stretch while Carl is out spending the proceeds of the warehouse
Does Larry trust Carl
enough for him to call the bluff? Or does Larry think that Carl is weak, selfish
and likely to crack, thinking that Larry will take the deal and screw
Both are better off
co-operating. Game Theory is based on the premise that you are better off
betraying your partner and escaping the penalty you’d receive if you let him
betray you first.
The Prisoner Dilemma is a
dilemma for a good reason—it demonstrates the relationship between the duality
of our mental processing. We are at once both rational and irrational actors. At
any given moment, the scale tips toward one or the other of these two
If both people are totally
rationale, they co-operate in that way they are both better off. As we know, the
irrational mind is filled with anxiety, fear or worry that the other person
won’t act in a rational way.
Some clever academics
(economists of course) decided to test the Prisoners’
Dilemma on real life prisoners. The payoffs were in coffee and
cigarettes to the prisoners. The women prisoners who participated in the
experiment were housed at Lower Saxony’s primary women’s prison. The results
were compared with a Prisoners’ Dilemma experiment with students.
The researchers thought
the prisoners would be more cynical, hardcore and less likely to co-operate. The
result surprised them. The results were in three categories: simultaneous game,
pair basis, and sequential game.
In the simultaneous game,
the women prisoners co-operated 56% of the time while the students came in
second at 37% in cooperation. In the pair basis category, the actual prisoners
had the best outcome and co-operated 30%, compared to just 13% among the
students. For sequential games, way more students co-operated (63%).
The telling test is the
simultaneous game, which is based on blind trust. The suspects have no precedent
to go by. The conclusion reached in the experiment is the actual behavior of
people fails to correspond with the prediction made by the Nash Equilibrium—that
says it is rational to defect, though it has been noted that Nash (The
Beautiful Mind was the film based on his life) was paranoid at the time he
came up with the Nash Equilibrium.
There are criticisms of
the experiment. First, the actual prisoners after the game ends must go back to
a prison environment and if they’ve betrayed another even in a game that might
offer nasty blow-back once the experiment was over and the prisoners returned to
the prison population. Also, those who come from a crime sub-culture have the
ethos of co-operating against the ‘system’ or the ‘cops’ and close ranks when
outsiders ask them to betray one of their own.
Another commentator has
suggested that the test subjects were women and that women are more likely to
co-operate with each other than men. Others have come to the opposite
conclusion—men are more co-operative with each other than women.
Other factors might be at
play. Cultural attitudes about co-operation are important in Asia. Could it be
the outcome of the Prisoners Dilemma turns, at least in part, on underlying
cultural attitudes? This expands the inquiry into the ethnicity, culture,
language, gender and class of the prisoners and of the interrogator. One should
not assume that all three parties will share the same set of cultural
Beyond culture is the
environment of the experiment. In other words, the setting of the interrogation
is another factor that has potential importance in the outcome. Suspects held at
a police station are in a different situation than suspects held inside military
prisons or safe houses where water-boarding, torture or other enhanced
interrogation methods are employed.
Would two Japanese
criminals be more likely co-operate if the interrogator was an English, Canadian
or American cop? Or if one of the criminals was Chinese and the other Thai, and
the Americans interrogated the two men about Golden Triangle activities, would
they co-operate or defect? Would it matter if the interrogator was a woman of
Norwegian ancestry and the suspects Asian men? If the suspects are a mother and
daughter, does this relationship make it more or less likely one will defect?
Generational difference between the suspects may be another factor that
influences the suspects’ decision.
The point is how we go
about how two prisoners placed in different rooms and under great stress reach a
consensus as to the best course of action is clouded by criminal mentality,
cultural norms, gender, prior relationship (and ongoing relationship) between
the parties (and their families).
How we calculate our
self-interest is rooted in what our culture teaches us about the self, the
individual, and the community.
The 2013 Thai Most Wanted
Hitmen list has 100 names. The 2011 list had only 75 names. That’s a 25%
productivity and employment increase in two years. If this were the economy,
people would be in the streets celebrating. This list is not Thai companies on
the stock exchange but a list of Thai hired killers who are in a bullish
Like the Booker Award, the
2013 list is a long one. We’ll get to the short list and the machinery to choose
the winner a bit later. No literary award I am aware of has ever announced a
long list with a name of 100 authors. In the real world, down those mean streets
walk not writers taking notes for a great crime novel but hired killers the
police would like to catch. And there are at least 100 of them, which works out
about 5 or 6 hitmen for each author on a typical crime fiction award
Authors must choose their
hitmen carefully. It seems there are difficulties in apprehending the Most
Wanted Hitmen—they are even more careful than most authors. After all they have
a lot more at stake, and more to lose.
Thailand law enforcement
challenges aren’t unique (though what country exists where the citizens in huge
numbers don’t believe this?). The police in every country face the same set of
problems—suppressing crime and capturing criminals who refuse to be suppressed.
Techniques of crime suppression and catching the bad guys are glimpses into the
culture of the legal justice system and the social system.
The Thai police have used
Most Wanted list and have made what translates as ‘criminal suspect calendars’, which feature a photo of the
bad guys (or bad women). Maybe the photographs were old, blurry, with bad
lightning and horrible angle—the usual things people say about my photos. In any
event these calendars (we’re not told where they were displayed) failed to bring
phone calls from the public with information that they just saw what looked like
#73 eating som tum at a food stall on Sukhumvit Road. The police phone
didn’t ring. Or if it did, the caller wasn’t reporting the location of a wanted
Faced with the bold
facts—can’t suppress them, can’t catch them—the police decided on a new campaign
to hunt down the gunmen for hire in Thailand. Social hierarchy is the lifeblood
of Thai society—and the building blocks are the Lego like tropes of family
names, titles, rank, private schools, and private clubs. A Thai can step back in
any social scene and immediately experience another person’s place on the
pyramid grid as though they had a sonar system that picks up frequencies that
foreigners simply don’t perceive.
Why not rank hitmen? That
seems like a logical extension to the normal way people perceive themselves and
others—they are either above or below you. This genius for ad hoc hierarchy
making as a blueprint for hitmen pyramid is far more impressive than anything
you’ll ever find in Egypt. If you are raised and educated in seeing social
relations as pyramids, why not adapt that idea to how you design your Most
Here’s how the new Most
Wanted Hitmen List will work—according to the Thai police.
Level one is for the top
gun. The Professional. A Level 1 hitman has proved himself capable, reliable,
with many successful assignments on his resume. The assassins on this list are
not limited to those wanted under an arrest warrant. Apparently just because
you’ve committed an assassination doesn’t automatically mean you will have an
arrest warrant issued. The example given by the authorities is the hitmen
who has just been released from prison having served time for his last job.
Apparently the concept of double jeopardy gives way to preventive action. Once
you’ve done your time for a hit, you are a Level 1 guy would is wanted by the
The Hired Gunman Pro who
is always wanted by the police, arrest warrant or not, is at the top of the
hierarchy. It is important to emphasize this point so no one is confused or
walks away from a citizen’s arrest of such a hitman who might argue there is no
outstanding warrant. Get the guy. Bring him in. If you’re working at Level 1,
the police want you even if there’s no paperwork other than the list. The
privilege of the top rank is to be always wanted.
There’s always some new
guy breaking into the game. Same as in sports. One day you are kicking in goals,
and the next day you’re on the bench because some new kid can kick the ball
better and farther than you. These are the semi-pros looking for the chance to
play in the PGA-level hitmen’s league. They are still building a resume showing
their wins. The police warrant these are the most dangerous players—young,
hungry, trigger-happy and as resume obsessed as a student trying to get accepted
for a Harvard MBA program. The police statement was silent as to the necessity
of any outstanding arrest warrant before such a person goes on at Level 2. It
might be that the arrest warrant exclusion is for only Level 1—give them a bit
of hierarchy pride. As it is unclear, no doubt it could lead to arguments, and,
no need to remind you, these people are heavily armed, that is never a good
thing in Thailand.
Level 1 and Level 2 are
your pro or semi-pro freelance, free agent players. They take assignments from
anyone with the cash and the desire to see someone dead. The Level 3 hitmen are
a different breed. They fit the mode of the in-house lawyers. They work for an
influential figure or the mafia. Yes, in Thailand there is apparently quite a
distinction between the two categories worth an essay on its own. The
third level players raise an interesting policing issue. Why not check with the
godfather, “Seen #43 recently?”
“No, he’s been on the sick
list,” godfather. “No, he’s been transferred to sales and is attending a seminar
“Well, if you see him,
give us a call.”
“You’ll be the first to
Level 3 is the place where
no one ever seems to find any evidence. It all disappears down that Alice in the
Wonderland rabbit hole without leaving a tiny, bitty trace. The gunman signs on
for the usual company benefits, and enters the workplace where whatever evidence
he leaves behind will magically disappear, and he draws a regular salary. The
police admit Level 3 is a toughest nut to crack.
We are at the bottom of
the pyramid on a dark night. In a sand storm. In the desert looking for whom?
These guys are not yet qualified to be hitmen. No, they’ve not earned their
stripes. The most you can say for them is they’ve murdered people in a conflict.
That’s not what professional killers do, who have no emotional connection with
the victim or conflict. The police want to put a lid on the possibility that
these hot-headed, hot-blooded killers who get into lethal fights and arguments,
don’t suddenly become cool under fire, chilled water running through their veins
and climb up to either Level 2 or 3. The greater fear is a lateral entry into a
Level 3 position with a godfather.
Supposedly 30% of the
Level 4 killers have contacts with the Level 3 players and bosses. This assumes
that bosses at Level 3 given a choice would take a level 2 or Level 4 guy.
In a pinch, a Level 4 guy might be given a chance to see if he can kill someone
he doesn’t hate without first punching him out. As a general rule, it’s horses
for courses in the play book for most godfathers.
The Thai police, despite
the limitations of the list, have an Ace up their sleeve. Thais are highly
sociable. They are hard to separate from their parents, friends and relatives.
The police have figured there is no level of assassin, which can sustain
isolation. The loneliness of being on the run is too much for the Thai hitman
who will sooner or later head to his parent’s house, his favorite mia
noi’s room, and the hangout where he drinks and sings karaoke with his
friends. The idea is the police will look for clues among the hitman’s relatives
and close associates.
No discussion of hitmen
can be separated from the price ticket for their services. The no frills, basic
level hit of an ordinary person starts at Baht 50,000 (or roughly US $1800).
Most of the hits at the low end of the market are the result of love affairs
that implode like a star that blows up. Only in this case, the black hole is
between the eyes. If the target is a ‘somebody’ in one of the other social
hierarchies, the price can shoot up.
How have the Thai police
been doing in catching the professional killer included on the 2013 Most Wanted
List? Six months into 2013 they’ve arrested four, and two have died. There is no
report on what level these 6 hitmen came from. The main takeaway is that your
chances of being arrested for being an assassin for hire is only slightly higher
than dying of old age. The next time someone mentions the word ‘noir’ in terms
of crime novels, you can ask them, “And what is your view on how the Most Wanted
Hitmen List for 2013 fits into the definition of noir?” To answer that question
would require a multi-volume series and given a dozen books, I’d only be
sweeping the sand from one side of the path leading to the base of the pyramid
only to watch it blow back the next day.
Most of the time we humans
are predictable in our reaction to the success of others. Anger, jealous, envy,
hatred and self-doubt spill out like pennies in a clay piggy bank hurled against
a brick wall. Another person’s success is felt like a punch in the
In the entertainment
business, the gag reflect is in full swing.
Our hackles rise reading
articles with openings like this:
Robert Downey Jr.
Robert Downey Jr. claims
top earning spot with $75 million last year thanks to his role in “Iron
How many actors who are
waiting tables in New York, Los Angeles, London and Paris dreaming of their big
break would like to make one percent of that amount? The chances are they won’t
have commercial success. They will never experience a year or a career like
Robert Downey Jr. But that is hardly Robert Downey Jr.’s fault. Nothing in the
universe was set to make his rise to fame and fortune inevitable. It could have
been another actor. It could have been you.
Writers face the same
problem. A handful of authors make the lion share of money from writing. James
Patterson, Dan Brown, J.K. Rowling, John Gresham, Stephen King are some of the
familiar names guaranteed to deforest mountains in British Columbia, to sell
container loads of books, to dominating bestseller list, book review coverage,
and public perception of how to measure a writer’s success.
It is the .001% of authors
who are profiled in the major press, and the press never fails to mention the
money they earn, the number of rooms in their house, private planes, boats; how
they are cocooned inside a wall of well-paid staff. The 99.999% of writers
scramble with other jobs to cover the cost of their rent, food, and
transportation cost. Outside of a few lions, the rest of the animals roaming the
literary savannah survive on near starvation rations.
Like Robert Downey Jr.,
the James Pattersons and J.K. Rowlings hit the big time. They were in the right
place, at the right time, and not one of them, their agent or publisher would
ever have predicted the scale of such success.
The idea of scaling hasn’t
been discussed in the saga of Rowling’s The Cuckoo’s Calling. For those
who haven’t followed the disclosure of Rowling’s novel published under another
name, he’s a brief summary.
When J.K. Rowling sought
to go undercover and write a crime novel titled The Cuckoo’s
Calling under the pen name Robert Galbraith she discovered what most
non-famous writer already know. It is tough finding a publisher, and having
found a publisher, it is even more difficult for a really good crime novel to
break out and acquired a Harry Potter-sized audience.
A couple of points worth
noting, from everything I’ve read about J.K. Rowling, she is a decent, kind,
sincere and genuine person. She doesn’t need to prove anything as J.K. Rowling.
She has a brand. She knows that and like any author she must have in the back of
her mind a doubt she’d like removed. That doubt is whether a novel written
without the brand attached would find a publisher. The Cuckoo’s Calling
had been rejected by a number of publishers. Rowling’s own publisher and editor
decided to publish it under the pen name.
They created a fictional
bio for Robert Galbraith and sent it out for review. Indeed the book received a
good reception among critics (The Cuckoo’s Calling had good reviews).
But the sales told a different story. Given the publishing world has something
called a returns right—meaning bookstores buy the books but have a right to
return unsold copies for a credit—the sales of The Cuckoo’s Calling
range from 500 to 1500 copies.
A don at Hertford College,
Oxford named Peter Millican created a software programe that could compare the
text of one book with the text of books by famous writers. Professor Millican
told the BBC, “I was testing
things like word length, sentence length, paragraph length, frequency of
particular words and the pattern of punctuation,” he explained. He concluded the
probability was high that Rowling was the author of The Cuckoo’s
A book that had small
sales under the name Robert Galbraith was now on the bestseller list. The
limited hardback edition of the Robert Galbraith books is now going for up to
two thousand pound sterling. The failed attempt to experiment with publishing
outside of the brand name J.K. Rowling, has given a good insight in the concept
When you aren’t famous and
you write a book, you are no different from any other person with a product or
service that is untested in the marketplace. Markets come in various shapes,
forms and sizes. The market for your novel might be for yourself, family and
friends. When that market is saturated, you’ve had your success. The problem is
that most of us think the market for what we write has a larger market. You
might be the star of your community theatre but your heart is set on Broadway
and Hollywood. The same for an author who has a community theatre-sized audience
for his or her book believes that he or she is one review away from a New York
How do you know if the
book you’ve written will ‘scale’ from an audience of a couple of hundred, or a
couple of thousand, to millions around the world? The answer is you don’t know.
No agent or publisher knows either. The same with films even with established
stars, no one is sure whether the movie will scale and capture a huge market or
flop like a fish in the bottom of a boat.
judge themselves by the standards of established authors. When their book
doesn’t have J.K. Rowling success, they feel like they are a failure. Status in
the entertainment world—film, painting, photography and books—is bestowed by
measuring commercial success. And commercial success is what we call a work of
art that scales much like the Big Bang from a pinpoint to an entire universe in
Most books are fragile in
the marketplace. They never ‘bang’; they whimper and die and are assigned to a
potter’s literary grave. In retrospect, we can say the book didn’t scale because
the subject was too narrow, the writing not artful enough, the characterization
weak, the story derivative and a hundred other reasons that support the decision
of the marketplace. None of this is to be taken seriously. Anymore than an
analysis as to why someone believes the stock market dropped 5% in one day, or
an earthquake hit China.
Those authors whose books
scale across the literary universe are not necessarily some rare literary
genius. There are hundreds of writers who have published books as good as or
better than the one people line up by the thousands at midnight to buy. J.K.
Rowling was on welfare, working out of coffee shops. She had no special
connection in the literary world. No doubt she can write, but with Harry Potter
she won the literary lottery, and most likely, like most lottery winners was as
bewildered and surprised as anyone else.
Authors without broad
brand recognition doom themselves by using the J.K. Rowling measure of success.
Her lesson with The Cuckoo’s Calling published under another name is
that the talent of a writer, any writer, is only one part of the complex network
of gears grinding below the surface of life. Once in awhile the great machine
produces a book that explodes, gathering millions of onlookers, both readers,
occasional readers and non-readers. The author’s life jumps from the book review
pages and lands on vastly larger stage of the news and social columns. The
author becomes newsworthy, her houses, cars, boats, her likes and dislikes, what
she eats for breakfast, her charities and hobbies, and her lectures and travels.
A celebrity is born and like any new star shines bright.
How or why this mysterious
event happens to anyone particular author is difficult to explain. But this has
happened before and will happen again. When the audience for a book scales on
the order of magnitude of the Big Bang, nothing can ever be the same again for
that author. Whatever he or she writes thereafter will enter the public
consciousness. Attempts to hide behind another name will likely fail. That new
star in the literary sky just doesn’t twinkle, it dominants the literary sky and
most of asteroids in the vicinity disappear from sight.
If you are a writer, you
won’t allow bitterness and regret to color your opinion of the success enjoyed
by authors such as J.K. Rowling. You will make a decision not to expend
emotional energy over what you can’t possibly control. You will also understand
that the essential feature of any author’s life isn’t whether the book scales to
reach the mountaintop of the richest, but whether the author has gone into the
world and climbed mountains. Be the writer who has put experience of life above
striving for status.
Be the writer with an
inexhaustible curiosity, a hunger for knowledge, and a humility that goes hand
in hand with a wisdom that the world each day has something new to teach. Be the
writer who disconnects from the Internet, cell phones and TV, and goes out into
unfamiliar neighborhoods and observes the lives of people you wouldn’t otherwise
meet. Be the writer who is the student and not the professor. Be the writer who
is a child and not a parent. Be the writer who withholds making a quick
Be the writer who gets out
of the apartment or house and enters a courtroom, a classroom, a prison, or a
hospital and who watches the flow of people passing through these public places.
The people in these places have lives worth understanding, and they will share
their secrets, dreams, desire, disappointments and pain. Many of them are inside
these places which cause them stress, duress, and anxiety. Here you will find
courage, desperation, corruption, hatred, love, hope, depression, the elements
that define who we are and the nature of our troubled times.
If you want to embark on a
path as a writer, enter the flow of lives around you. Leave your comfort zone.
Be the writer who explores cultures, religions and languages to discover the
forces that shape our differences in perception, understanding, and emotional
After this exploration,
whether your book scales to the higher elevations of J.K. Rowling’s commercial
success, it won’t matter. You will have scaled to the top of your personal
intellectual and emotional mountaintop, planted your flag and looked out on life in a way that few ever will. That, my friend, is success.
On the 15th
July 2009 a small group of writers joined together to write weekly essays for
this blog—International Crime Authors Reality Check. We were and remain
novelists who write essays once a week. In those essays we test notions of
‘reality’ in the context of social and political issues of the day. In these
essays, we have patrolled the borderline between good and evil, right and wrong,
facts and opinion.
Crime fiction has helped
shape our world of ideas about social justice, the way actual legal systems
function in other countries, and the way modern technology continues to change
the nature of criminal investigations and indeed the nature of crime.
Non-fiction is usually thought to be about truth and mirror reality. But often
it is fiction that comes closer to the mark in describing truth and reality.
That irony isn’t lost on the bloggers who write for you every week.
I’ve logged 214 essays
since 15th July 2009, and my fellow bloggers have more than pulled
their share of the weight. It takes a special breed of crime writer to
consistently produce essays each week. We have a number of distinguished alumni
who have written for the blog. It is understandable that other commitments
require authors to bow out of the weekly essay routine. There are only so many
hours in the day.
Our bloggers who currently
write each week are: Barbara Nadel (Turkey), Quentin Bates (Iceland), Jarad
Henry (Australia), and myself (Thailand). My writing colleagues essays have
often been a detailed examinations of the writing game, politics, social and
cultural developments, and insights into the world of police
Other crime fiction
writers who made a significant contribution through their essays during the last
four years include: Colin Cotterill (Laos/Thailand), Matt Rees (Middle-East),
Margie Orford (South Africa), Jim Thompson (Finland), and John Lantigua (South
and Central America). I thank each of them for sharing their insight and
applying their talent to the difficult art of an essay.
All of us feel that our
essays allow us to give something back to the readers of our novels—a glimpse of
the intellectual concerns and interests that can be developed independent of
plot and character. We don’t write behind a pay wall. Our essays are our way of
giving back to readers what we hope will be of value.
If you have enjoyed our
essays, the best way of expressing your appreciation is to buy and read one of
our novels, or send it along as a gift to a family member, colleague or friend.
On the right hand side is a scroll with a cover of our most recent
To our readers, thank you
for your support and we hope to publish more essays from the world of crime
fiction writers your way for sometime into the future.
Author’s photographs fall
into several categories. The most common is the best face photograph; the ego
shining forth. I’ve had my share of those photographs over the years. There are
less common author’s photographs. Among those are ones that tell a visual story
about a storyteller writing a story in a setting, which has its own story to
This kind of photograph
reminds me of Russian dolls nested together, each a smaller version of the one
before it, until the doll is infinitely small and disappears with all of the
stories locked inside.
This week, I was at the
airport in Bangkok. Physically I was at the airport, but my mind was somewhere
else. It was engaged with the latest Calvino novel. Scraps of dialogue,
gestures, expressions, body language, and images buzzing around like fruit flies
hovering over an open jar of honey. I normally carry a notebook. I left it at
home. I knew from bitter experience that unless I wrote down the imaginary and
dialogue that it would be lost. There were too many ideas, too many scenes and
faces. There is nothing more frustrating than being in the flow of a scene and
having no way to pull from that river the treasures floating past.
I went to a counter and
asked for a piece of paper and found a place to write. Only later when looking
at the photograph could I see that the world around me as rich as an imagination
set free. An unattended airport cart filled with various packages. Who had left
it? What was inside the packages?
No one but a writer lost
to his imagination would miss the huge Mount Blanc advertisement, a brand, a
prestige item and a godlike face—all playing out a story about how our world of
commodities feeds our desires, focuses our motivations, and guides our deepest
hopes. The illuminated ad shone like a mini-shrine, a spirit house, a testament
to our wish to elevate our status and to receive the recognition of those around
Here I was a writer
holding a two-dollar pen, writing, head down, lost inside myself, ignoring our
culture’s message as to what is real and important. I wrote in the shadow of a
company that sells really expensive, flashy pens—that now also expensive perfume
for men to go along with the Mount Blanc pens. The smell, the look, that’s what
has pulled us into the dragnet of manufactured happiness. We are suckers who no
longer fight the dragnet as it sweeps us along with millions of other little
fish trying to swim like outsized, important fish, one that secretly aspires to
become a legend. Money is the shortcut to rise out of fishery. That’s how stuff
is sold to us. It is the reason we part our money after we have everything else.
Who doesn’t want to be a legend and immortal? And to smell so fragrant that the
gods weep as we pass, is a feeling that we can’t easily shake.
The escalator leading
international passengers to the immigration control, the airport workers with
their vests talking to each other, knowing they’d never take that escalator
upstairs to clear immigration. They are the fish, which swim in huge schools,
the fish, which will never buy the perfume or take the plane to Berlin or London
or New York. These local fish stay close to home shore.
I had been writing. I had
been paying attention to the flow inside my mind. Everything in the photograph
went unnoticed. Focus is the bullet that puts a slug in the heart of
distraction. They fall away dead and we don’t notice the bodies until we look at
a picture and identify them later.
What we pay attention to
and how we pay (or fail to pay) attention defines as much as a tattoo of a
dragon on our forehead. As a writer my books and essays form part of the
attention focusing business and they compete with all of the other products that
attention hawkers hit you with hundreds of times a day. Exhausting, isn’t it?
All this money and effort spent to get you to focus your attention on some
visual, oral, acoustical experience.
It doesn’t matter what
public space we enter, someone wants us to pay attention to what they have to
say. Retreating into a private space provides little protection. Legions of
companies, governments and other people want you to remember that you paid
attention to their message and for a reason. They want something from you. And
in return, they are offering you some reward in return for your
One reason to read is to
find a way out of the lamppost light bias. The parable goes like this. A cop on
foot patrol comes across a drunk on his knees circling around a
The officer asked the
drunk, “What are you doing on the ground”
And the drunk replied,
“I’ve lost my car keys.”
The cop took pity on the
drunk and helped him search for the lost keys. After fifteen minutes of a futile
search, the cop asked the drunk, “Where did you lose the keys?”
The drunk pointed to the
park in the dark beyond on the lamppost. “Over there,” said the
The cop shakes his head,
“For God’s sake,man, why are you looking here?”
And the drunk replied,
“Because that’s where the light is.”
The books l read take me
out beyond the light of the lamppost. They take me to the hidden world inside
the dark park. That’s where the keys were lost. Not to my car but to
understanding about the nature of the world. Truth is camouflaged, out of sight.
You won’t find it under a lamppost. That’s where everyone expects to find it.
But the right book, in the hands of a master, can light a single candle that
reveals what has been concealed. The things not sold on airport advertisements.
We have in our power to take that candle and set out on an exploration. Even if
truth isn’t at the end, the journey will have illuminated a pathway to worlds
that lay just beyond where the darkness begins.
I was in the airport in
Bangkok. It was a lamppost and I was inside its light. But my mind was inside
another the terrain, time and place, and whether or not I found anything of
value, I can’t be sure. But I was pleased to have found strangers who donated
paper and pen to take a chance that I might be writing my own ticket to escape
from the lamppost circle of light.
Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett, and John Paulos have written best
selling books subjecting religion to the rigors of science, testing, evidence
and logic. The belief in the sky god was never able to withstand such a
compelling analysis. The borders of faith have shrunk inside many people’s
lives. Those who describe themselves in surveys and polls as atheist continue to
remain a minority in most Western countries. It may be that many people
nominally remain under the cloak of religion. Strip away the cloak and the
reality is they have all but in name abandoned faith in the sky god. But the
rituals of faith continue like a steam locomotive. We love the experience of
ritual—the sight, the smell, and the ride with fellow passengers. We temporarily
close our eyes to the fact that other forms of transportation have long ago
What is the evidence for
this covert loss of faith in religion to supply satisfactory answers to the
large existential questions about death? It is found in the rise of government
as an alternative manager of fears. The second bow in the string religion
brought was the fear of being a sinner, doing wrong, angering the sky god. The
old violin has lost both strings. Our existential angst goes unanswered by faith
and no one worries much about being a sinner. Guilt, like sin, is a word no
longer functions to keep anti-social behavior in check.
The old hierarchy of fear
managers—monks, priests, rabbis, ministers—historically have claimed
jurisdiction over ministering to our existential fears for centuries. As
absolute faith in religious answers no longer is comforting to a growing mass of
people, who have switched allegiance to the scientific method, a gap has opened.
Our secularization has brought about a great leveraged buy-out of the fear
business. The private sector has co-ventured with the government in the
acquisition, data mining, storage, and analysis of big information
The new secular clergy are
organized around the language of mathematics as the church once used Latin for
their elite. Mathematicians are our new cardinals. Their algorithms communicate
the sacred and the secret. Outside the inner sanctum of Government, a large,
private group of lay novices are often ex-clergy who shuttle back and forth from
public to private, and vice versa.
In gaining control over
the fear business, governments and their private partners have found an
effective way to expand and consolidate power. The medieval role of the Church
found that fear of the sky god’s wrath was effective to control kings who ruled
under its grace in Europe. History teaches an important lesson about those who
claim the mantle of fear managers—power, whether religious or secular—takes our
fear of the ‘other’ and our fear of death to serve their own interests. Like the
church before our secular age, the population has been excluded from the modern
process of fear management. The new secular priesthood determines, in secret,
what actions work best in the war against fear. Fear needs a face. Fear needs an
enemy. In religious times, it was the devil; in secular times, it is the
terrorist, who have brought us to the edge of the apocalypse; it is these people
who haunt us and make us fearful.
Secular governments have
learnt what large religious institutions have known for centuries—the masses
will abandon claims to civil liberties and rights in return for guarantees that
the enemy, the non-believer, whether within or from the outside. They have no
issue with giving a free hand to officials and private contractors waging this
war against fear. Priesthoods rely on magical thinking. To defeat the enemies
who cause fear, all-out war is necessary. In this worldview, there is no choice
but to permit the authorities to collect metadata, mine it for threats, and
pursue those threats by all available means.
Institutions that work in
the fear business are not only good at data mining—math as the new Latin gives
them a huge edge—they are also adroit at understanding the psychology of the
faithful. The reality is that people are highly vulnerable when it comes to
fear. They want to be cleansed of fear. Churches no longer offer a sanctuary to
repress these destabilizing emotions. We are witness to a great shifting of the
guards as religious institutions are going the way of the manual typewriter. In
the digital age, the amount of fear has increased at the same rate of Moore’s
law for computer speed. Fear increased with our information about the dangers of
the world. The uneasy anxiety of the masses demands something to be done to
contain their fear.
In response to that
demand, we are witnessing the results—a huge, spawning intelligence gathering
empire, one justified and tailored to managing the globalization of fear.
Intelligence agencies in America gather, store and process metadata about
millions of ordinary people’s personal messages hovered from their email,
telephone, social networks who had not been accused of any crime. The majority
of those people have no problem with the government keeping information about
their lives. They feel they’ve done nothing wrong. It is only people who would
harm them or kill them that should be worried.
Don’t tie the hands of the
fear managers, let them mount their steads, draw their swords, and vanquish the
bad people from our existence. In the religious realm, heaven is on the side of
the righteous. For the modern, secular population, heaven requires mass storage
facilities, algorithms to mine the huge amounts of data. This new secular
church, and the vast network of lay novices, operates under the watchful eyes of
hundreds of thousands of the workers with the sacred task of monitoring those
who generate fear. They are our representatives of righteousness—the high
priests who have been granted top-secret clearance—the vanguards to guard us
against the fears once the preserve of sky god and his
Our secular masters have
become the new class of priests and new digital, technology installed as the sky
god who sees all, is everywhere, omnipotent, and watching.
We use our new technology
like prayers, believing that it will allow our secret clergy to acquire
patterns, knowledge about probable associations and outcomes, and prevent a
crime before it happens and identify the criminals before they commit a crime.
In the ancient days when religions played a central role in people’s lives, we
had to wait until a criminal acted, investigated for evidence to catch him, and
extracted a confession after having caught him. In our secular, technological
age that process from the steam locomotive age is no longer
We live in a new age, one
in which fear propels us to allocate resources to identify people who are, or
possess the potential, for violence, aggression, and brutality. We no longer
rest at night knowing the sky god keeps their primitive impulse in check. Just
as we have begun to have serious doubt that the sky god is waiting on the other
side of death. We are alone, troubled, insecure, short-lived creatures and
seeking shelter in a violent species on a rocky planet, trying to get by day by
This new secular regime
has crept up on us. We blinked. One moment it suddenly appeared. We are all part
of the congregation. Dismantling the new clergy, or effectively controlling
their actions, won’t happen easily. And for a reason—we yearn not for freedom or
liberty, but seek security from the terrible uncertainty of meaning to lives
without the sky god, and the oblivion we confront in our death. As with all
great religions, the day will arrive when one among them follows Martin Luther
by challenging the right and authority of the digital Leviathan over our lives.
We wait for that edict as it travels at the speed of light through cyberspace to
offer a secular order where the clergy cedes power to the congregation it
serves. Only then will there be any chance for a reformation.
Theatre since the time of
Greeks produced plays as a mirror to hold up to a society to see the reality of
their existence. We are accustomed to the division of drama into the two
different aspects of our lives—comedy and tragedy. We respond with laughter or
tears as the emotional chords are played on our heartstrings with the virtuosity
of the great dramatist. Not all cultures draw their dramatic heritage from the
Greeks or Romans, nor are all dramas the product of professional stage
producers, scriptwriters and directors.
In Thailand the police
have an exclusive on the right to stage the drama of a criminal reenactment. A
number of times a year it is show time in the Land of Smiles.
The police re-enactment of
crimes has been refined over many years in Thailand until it has reached the
level of an anticipated theatrical event. The reconstructions of actual crimes
might be thought to be closer to carnival or street theatre than Shakespearian
tightly scripted plays. The police having caught the criminal arrange for him or
her (most of the time it’s him) to appear in front of the media and show how the
suspect committed the crime. The police are casted in the role of heroes, the
villain (sometimes there are more than one) is the real-life suspect and
everyone plays their role before news reporters and TV cameras.
This is a different
concept than the TV show like Crime Stopper, where to catch a criminal, the
police reenact the crime in order to engage the public with a request for
information to assist in identifying and arresting the suspect.
In Thailand, the police
arrest the suspected criminal who has “confessed” to the crime. What follows the
confession is a media presentation where the suspect, actors, and the police
stage a reconstruction of the crime.
Reenactments can carry a
light note, a hint of comedy with a suspect who has the media spotlight. That
certainly proved to be the case with Carlo Konstantin
Kohl who escaped
from the airport by a German national where he’d been held in the transit lounge
on his journey from Australia to Germany.
Sometimes the ‘theatre’
moves from the realm of controlled drama produced and directed by the police, to
‘live’ drama, which shows just how badly things can go wrong with a staged
re-enactment of a crime.
In a recent criminal
case, a Vietnamese
national, a suspect in an abduction case was on his way to a crime scene
reenactment, escaped out of the back of a police van.
When a 17-year
reenacted the vicious stabbing of a maid in Phuket—she was stabbed 80 times and
her throat slit—relatives and neighbors tried to beat up the suspect and
the police had to intervene to protect him. As he was a minor his face was
covered by a balaclava.
case of a sexual
assault and robbery of two Russian women, the police had Thai actresses
play the role of the Russians in the reconstruction of the crime.
Obviously a ‘reconstructed’ crime doesn’t actually reproduce all the elements of
the crime. It is more like a power point presentation of how to fly an airplane
than actually getting in the cockpit and taking off.
reported the police rationale for reenactments of crime:
“A Metropolitan Police
specialist said a re-enactment is important for an investigation because each
criminal or each gang behaves differently in committing a crime. Details on how
criminals commit each crime help the police understand the pattern of a crime.
This can help them track down other criminals showing the same behaviour pattern
and help reduce the loss of life and property.”
Reenactments as a police
school teaching tool for crime investigators strikes me as an interesting,
though implausible, heuristic tool. I think the jury is out exactly how such
reenactments expand the range of knowledge about criminal behavior. Watching
Superman in Man of Steel might impart some knowledge about criminal
conduct as well. Crime re-enactments, in my view, touch on a much older idea
about communities gathering to witness a wrongdoer repent, confess his crime,
show his contrition by assisting the authorities in demonstrating what he did.
Reenactments are a ritual, like rituals surrounding birth, marriage and death.
Rituals of cleansing the wrongdoer—with the police as high-priests—are on hand
as representatives of the gods who punish those who do wrong, so that victim’s
family, friends and neighbors can watch the suspect admit his sin.
If the police explanation
is correct, the re-enactments ought to take place in an actual theatre or
classroom. From the photos below, you can see the Thai police staged a
re-enactment of the murder of a well-known and controversial businessman is
being witnessed by only two officers (with one having his interest engaged
Another point, which also
isn’t explained, is why the press is invited to record this piece of theatre,
the large number of police officers who attend such reenactments, or onlookers
who are allowed to watch the whole proceeding up close. Are they training
sessions or workshops? Or is this staged reconstruction more like theatre? May
be it is a ritualized repentance and request for forgiveness as I discussed
earlier. Or could it be an effective way of communicating with the public that
the police not only have solved the crime, protected them, and by locking this
man up they are keeping them safe? As we’ve learnt with recent events in the
intelligence community in America, the desire to feel safe is a license to do
whatever is necessary to accomplish that goal. Reenactments are hatched from a
primordial fear of danger from other people.
A member of the National
Human Rights Commission, Paiboon Warahapaitoon, requested that the police take
into account the human rights implications arising from staging a reenactment of
a crime. Even under Thai law, the accused can’t be convicted solely based on a
confession. A reenactment is no more than a dramatization of a confession that
cannot be used to convict, unless it is supported by independent evidence of
lawyers have come
out to argue that the Thai police reenactments would be illegal in most
Most of the Thai
reenactments are young Thais with little education and from poor families. These
are the faces one sees among the suspects reenacting crimes. The rich and
well-off are not actors in these dramas. They have their lawyers, day in court,
and are usually out on bail, denying the charges against them.
Last week a Thai diplomat
stationed in Cario was involved in an altercation in a luxury hotel. The facts
are yet to be finally established, but the preliminary reports having the young
Thai woman diplomat kicking, scratching and biting an Egyptian lawyer in front
of her husband and other witnesses after a round of insults at Egypt and
Egyptian people . The diplomat has claimed self-defence, but offered no
details as to what caused her to be threatened. The Thai Ministry of Foreign
Affairs has recalled her to Bangkok and said it will investigate the matter.
Whatever is found, one thing you can be assured won’t happen is a reenactment of
If you want to see how the
rich carry on, watch primetime Thai TV lakorn (soap operas) on free TV
channels. They are the next best thing to crime reenactments of assaults and
other crimes the privileged commit. Lakorn is wildly popular amongst a
large segment of the population. This shows there is a popular appetite for
reenactments of crimes, nasty and anti-social behavior which don’t quite rise to
crimes but nonetheless inflict a fair measure of emotional damage to the
For this reason I think it
is unlikely that the popularity of the Thai lakorn will wane any time
soon. And the same can be predicted for criminal reenactments starring members
of the underclasses. All societies need a way of staging drama. Each culture
evolves a set of expectations, roles, producers, directors and media stars. The
Thais give the starring roles to the poor in reality news entertainment in crime
re-enactments, and the rich get theirs in soapy primetime TV dramas. Thai
audiences are as entertained as any member of the old Globe Theatre in London. The show must go on.
And when the price of admission is free, and the villain at center stage
performs his role, for that moment, he achieves a moment of fame. And the police
reinforce their image as heroes, defenders, protectors against the ‘other’ who
are out ‘there’ waiting to kill, maim, rob, rape or assault.
Shakespeare in Richard II wrote: “As in a theatre, the eyes of men, after
a well-graced actor leaves the stage, are idly bent on him that enters next.”
And who enters next may well be someone caught on a video camera. Digital
video recorders in cell phones have the potential, over time, to replace the
police reenactment. The purpose of the reenactment is for the suspect to show
how he committed the crime. In this YouTube clip a Thai man confronts Russian
man with a handgun in Phuket. It is over a woman.
Videos like this eliminate the need for a reenactment.
Bangkok this week has
secured its reputation as the place (to borrow Maurice Sendak’s book title)
the Wild Things Are. Wild things like in wild, feral animals are a good place
to begin a Conrad-like journey into the heart of urban darkness.
Noah, according the myth,
collected a pair of each animal and loaded them onto an arc as he had advanced
warning that a flood would wipe out life on the planet. This week a modern
version of Noah was busted in Bangkok, although no arc was found on the
premises. But that is a minor detail, as no self-respecting face displaying
local would be caught dead shoving animals into a wooden Arc. The new Arc is an
imported luxury cars.
Before we move on to the
animal selection process for filling up an Arc, let’s start with the noise
animals make. Noah must have had neighbors, too. We never heard their side of
the story. Noah didn’t work in silence. He banged nails day and night to
construct the arc, while his animals caged up kicked up a chorus. Never heard
that part of the story? Right. That merely proves that some great background
stories never are told, or if told, are remembered and passed down from
generation to generation.
In Bangkok, after a
drinking session the music is usually turned up … and up … and at some point it
blares through of the neighbor’s walls. The racket Leeches through the floors
and ceiling and sucks you dry. Welcome to the neighbor from hell. The one with
the teenagers who has formed a rock band with his buddies but no one has ever
taken a music lesson. The wannabe rock stars bang away on electric guitars
and drums from midnight to four in the morning. You complain to the police. They
do nothing. As Thailand is a hub of the unconventional story about hellish
neighbors, at last there is a story where the police actually came, saw, held
their noses, and returned with very large trucks to remove the source of the
noise. Only in this case, it wasn’t loud music that caused the
one of the remote neighborhoods in Bangkok, Khun Lek bolted up in bed as he
tries to awake for a nightmare of roaring lions and a distant tingling of pigs
and peacocks. You are awake but the sound of jungle hasn’t disappeared. And then
he smelled something foul as if a hundred sewers have backed up and overflowed
in your bedroom.
The police discovered the
neighbor—a Mr. Montri runs a pet shop at the Weekend Market also known as
Jattujak or JJ Market. He’d previously been convicted of trading in wildlife and
had gone back to his old ways as officials found: 14 white lions, 4 otter
civets, 2 hornbills, 1 oris, 23 meerkats, 1,000 sugar gliders, 12 peacocks, 13
turtles, 6 minks, 4 miniature pigs, 17 marmosets, a number of birds, and some
stuffed animals. It seems the police got tired of counting after the exhaustion
of counting 17 marmosets (those little buggers race around like rats on speed
and all look alike making counting an ordeal) as quantities grow vague when it
comes to birds and stuffed animals. There it is. After the great flood, the
world starts over with this population of animals.
Mr. Montri told the police
that he had the paperwork to legally import the lions from South Africa.
Apparently a lion cost Baht 200,000 wholesale or about $6,700.00. There was a
slight problem with the papers. The import documentation showed 16 lions coming
into Bangkok, and there were only 14 in the cages on Mr. Montri’s land. The
paperwork hasn’t stopped the police from charging Mr. Montri with offenses that
could delay the sailing of the Mr. Montri’s Arc by up to 4 years.
Where were the missing 2
lions? That question is one Mr. Montri’s neighbors are seeking answers to as
they gingerly rush from their front doors, climb into their cars or on to the
seat of their motorcycles and get out while the getting is good.
The rich in Thailand
apparently have a strong desire to own unusual pets. There is also a dark side,
too, as the delicate bits from some of these animals are also made into
medicines usually to increase the vitality and virility of aging men.
The secret sex lives of
some old men include harvesting organs from rare, large African animals. Others
go for luxury sports cars.
This leads us back to the
on-going investigation by a large number of agencies into the smuggling of
luxury cars into Thailand. The 300% import taxes are staggeringly high for
someone using the normal import channels. That provides an opportunity for
someone who can figure out a short cut. Somehow 2,000 luxury cars were smuggled
into Laem Chabang port in Chon Buri and stored, making it one of the world’s
largest luxury car parking lots in the world. As one would expect, cars began
disappearing from the port as importers began selling them off at bargain
The Department of Special
Investigation (DSI) is looking into 600 luxury cars to see if they were legally
imported. DSI has impounded a 100 luxury cars so far this year.
News reports indicate 90%
of the luxury cars imported into Thailand came in illegally. That is more than
just a little leakage in the system. That’s the sound of Niagara Falls roaring
next to those missing lions. Like prohibition of alcohol, criminalization of
drugs, or 300% taxes on for a luxury item is guaranteed to fuel a grey and black
market, corrupt officials and create a wealthy criminal class of middlemen. In
the case of Thailand, the grey and black markets are the lion’s share of the
luxury car market. The grey market includes luxury cars used abroad by students
and imported into Thailand—just think about it. You come home from year of study
abroad with a half-million car that slides under the tax regulations. Or if you
have a luxury car assembled in Thailand, another free pass. Though the assembly
of such cars require technicians and facilities that rival NASA, and the local
‘assembly’ shops appear to have no more than the usual screwdriver and hammer.
And the luxury car has to be registered. Basically the luxury car market is a
legal mess with many fingers pointing and many more fingers in the
The owners of luxury cars
are a who’s who of Hi-So personalities, senior government officials and even an
abbot. Their sons and daughters also have a taste for the exotic import that
distinguishes them from the lower orders running around town in their government
subsidized locally assembled cars that cost less than the upholstery on a
You need vitality to drive
one of these babies. With a white lion in the passenger’s seat no one, I repeat
no one, is going to have a larger face than the man behind the wheel. Most
people are status obsessed and the Thais are no exception to the rule. Face is
important. What you drive, wear, and the animals you collect, if of the right
sort, can create a face the size of the moon. Capitalism in its full glory has
provided a mechanism to achieve the elevated heights undreamed up in Noah’s day
of mere arc builders.
If we stand aside from the
personalities and the distracting images, we can see more clearly what is at
stake. The lions and the luxury cars are really a story about our uneasy,
troubled relationship with nature and each other. Our problem has caused a
problem with nature once it became apparent that there is vastly more profit in
destruction than in maintenance of natural resources.
We are a species of
Deceptive Apes, Killer Apes, and we are a danger to ourselves and all other
species. Our ancestors passed laws and wrote constitutions to protect us against
ourselves. In the digital age we have found those in power have discovered new
and powerful ways of deception, means far beyond the imagination of prior
We deceive ourselves that
nature can absorb our rapacious behavior. We deceive ourselves that those who
collect information will never use it for their benefit rather than our
We deceive ourselves into
believing that the rule of law will continue to protect us like a dyke against
the rising tide of government intrusion. Apathy is the bedfellow of deception.
We are enablers of the worst excesses that should worry us but don’t. A majority
of Thais accept corruption as part of the system. A majority of Americans don’t
object if their government accesses, stores and analyzes their emails, Amazon
purchases, Google searches, Facebook likes and posts, and telephone
Collectively we’ve fallen
into a state of denial that a price is paid for deception, and we are the one’s
who pay it. Our minds fill with the soma of the media and the government
officials, and we miss the context and the larger issues. Like a great magician,
who knows how to distract his audience, we are easily fooled. We focus our
attention on the slightly amusing personal stories that limit the damage to a
couple of dodgy schemes that the authorities are investigating. Imported lions
and luxury vehicles are a good laugh. Until we realize that we are laughing when
we should be weeping.
We live in a time of great
loss—nature, privacy, freedom, honesty and fairness. One by one, these values
are dying. Like Old English words, one day no one will remember what such words
meant back in our day. The natural habitat of the Deceptive Ape is in
transition. What that new space will look like? Perhaps our descendants will
occupy a mental cage with as much space to roam as the cages that the Bangkok
resident white lions were housed.
We can only guess. Where
the Wild Things Are is just beginning to unfold.
Some weeks provide an
avalanche of events—enough to fill a book of essays. For example, a German
national who’d finished serving a prison sentence in Australia for theft and
drug law violations, escaped his private security guards at the Bangkok airport
and had a two-day holiday in Bangkok before the police caught up with him. Carlo
Konstantin Kohl, a German national, with an Australian accent aged 25 (a
contemporary of Mr. I Am Awesome, the 25-year-old Thai drug dealer
with five wives I wrote about a couple of weeks ago) was being extradited to
Germany. Here’s an account in the Australian:
Kohl’s escorts were two
private security personnel whose job was delayed at Suvarnabhumi Airport due to
bad weather. The security detail had decided to wait for the onward flight to
Germany in the transit lounge with Mr. Kohl. It was a long overnight wait and
the guards fell asleep according to the Bangkok
(although the Australians denied that). Mr. Kohl decided he wasn’t all that
anxious to return to Germany where he was wanted on parole violation charges.
According to local reports he wandered around the airport for hours.
Kohl on his way to a foot massage in Suvannabhumi Airport in Bangkok.
His escape from the
airport confirmed that it has more exit doors than Bangkok’s illegal
gambling casinos—300 doors—and is far less secure. Any one of the airport exit
door, apparently, is easily disabled by snipping an electric wire.
Rumours are unconfirmed
that Immigration—having discovered all of these doors may be in surplus for
emergency use—might convert a half dozen of these surplus exits into Fast Track
lanes for those willing to pay an extra fee. Of course, I made that up, but
anything your can conceive in your imagination just might have a counterpart in
reality in Thailand.
Thais love stories about
handsome young rogue farang giving the authorities in Australia and
Thailand a dual set of black eyes. He was bound to endear himself to a Thai
audience by stopping at the airport for a foot massage before high tailing it to
Soi Cowboy. The local press played the sanuk angle of the story as if Mr. Kohl’s
tour of Bangkok’s hot spots was a blend of Home Alone and Hangover
II. A handsome young rogue for a star, fumbling, sleeping Australians, and
a tour of the hot spots of Bangkok.
Establishing the facts has
been illusive. Like objects in zero gravity, facts in Thailand have a habit of
floating free, bouncing off the shell of reality, untethered they remain fluid
and forever just out of reach. The Thais have a way of dealing with facts that
appear to incriminate someone important—those facts fall into the category of
insufficient evidence. In Kohl’s case no Thai officials of rank were
incriminated (that was news in itself). His romp through Bangkok was an
adventure, and besides everyone was quite happy to lay the blame the Australian
security detail—including the Australians. Falling asleep on the job? That could
never happen in Thailand. What about all of those doors Mr. Kohl rattled? Some
of the doors had been kept open for the convenience of airport staff. A bolt
hole might be useful when the time comes to sneak a cigarette, hide from the
boss, or to find a cozy spot for a quick nap.
Even the circumstances of
Kohl’s capture/surrender/ambush—take your pick—are unclear. He was arrested in
the vicinity of the German Embassy (the exact circumstances of his apprehension
like most other aspects of the story are vague). One press report said Kohl had
applied for a replacement passport two weeks earlier. That was the first clue
that he’d been enjoying himself in Bangkok for some while. And he’d been flying
under the radar.
Hadn’t anyone notified the
Germany Embassy in Bangkok to be on the outlook for him? Apparently not, but
facts like elementary particles in physics apparently only allow you to measure
location or velocity. I’d hazard a guess that Heisenberg’s head would have been
spinning to explain the facts in this case. Was Kohl on his way to the German
Embassy to pick up his replacement passport? Did he suddenly have a pang of
guilt and walked up and turned himself in to a Thai cop he saw on the way to the
embassy? We don’t know those facts. You can’t find them anywhere in the press
In one week, Carlo
Konstantin Kohl managed more front page coverage in the English language
newspapers than the Prime Minister or her brother—the one who was prime minister
when the airport with the 300 exit doors was opened, and the one through which
he exited some years ago. This was exactly the kind of story the local media
love—a Hollywood bankable rogue, keystone private cop foreigners, and no one of
importance had been accused of corruption, thuggish behavior, or displays of
gross arrogance. Allegations of negligence, well, to complain about that is to
complain about the oxygen we breath. Though the Thai press had a report that the
taxi driver that drove Kohl from the airport into Bangkok charged him Baht 3,000
for a ride that normally would cost under Baht 300. It’s not certain Kohl
was aware that he’d been grossly overcharged. I suspect his gave the driver a
hundred dollar bill. Unless after his foot massage Kohl made a trip to one of
the airport exchange booths.
With a bit of time to
reflect, the Bangkok Post ran editorial suggesting that if Kohl could use a coin
to open a security door at the airport, well-trained terrorists who’d been
trained with escape and evasion skills could easily have popped open all 300
doors at once.
Kohl, who was fined Baht
6,000 ($200) and given a two-year suspended sentence for illegal entry, later
conducted what appeared to be a workshop in front of about 50 officials who
watched Kohl show how he had used a coin to open a security door and how he cut
the wire. It was less a reenactment of the crime than the usual photo op the
local papers run of a foreign guest speaker, guru from abroad, holding one of
those seminars at a five-star hotel, lunch included, for the professional
development and the transfer of foreign know-how and technology.
Kohl’s fun holiday in
Bangkok overlooks one or two issues that I’ve not seen raised in the press
accounts. Shouldn’t someone be asking the question as to whether there are
protocols that require foreign police agencies, or private security firms used
by law enforcement to transport prisoners to other countries, to notify local
authorities that a criminal will be passing through as a transit passenger?
Wouldn’t the Thais like to know in advance of arrival of someone like Mr. Kohl
at their airport? Would they have rules to be observed such as don’t fall asleep
in the transit lounge while escorting a prisoner? Can any serial killer show up
in the custody of a couple of sleep deprived private security guards, take a
power nap in the transit lounge, and let their charge take a tour of the city?
What other people or things are going on in transit lounges that Thai officials
might be interested in as a matter of public security and safety?
Or is this the
international transport of prisoners one of those black boxes, like the
renditions the Americans ran out of Thailand for some years, where flights come
and go out of shadowy world with a wink and a nod? Do other countries have
procedures that set out what notices and process must be complied with in flying
prisoners in and out of their country?
The problem with such
questions is they take the fun out of Kohl’s story. Better to keep a lid on the
broader implications of what happened by limiting attention to the official
response which is to send a crew around to rattle the 300 security doors at the
airport. The questions are also embarrassing to both the Australians and the
Thais. By asking why the Thai authorities didn’t receive advance notice of Mr.
Kohl’s arrival raises the uncomfortable possibility that the Australians were
under no obligation to give the Thais any such notice.
Credit must go to Mr. Kohl
was exposing the security problem at the airport. Additional credit is due for
establishing the abiding metaphor whenever an influential person is facing a
‘fact’ that causes a major loss of face and serious criminal charge—he will find
300 exit doors, and one of those door will allow him to escape. Call it the
‘insufficient evidence’ door.
The more interesting story
this week was the explosion and fire that destroyed a carrier lorry loaded with
luxury cars that
somehow had entered the country and avoided import duties, and the parties have
links to major politicians and government officials.
The six luxury
cars have caused a
turf battle between the police, customs, revenue department, and the
anti-corruption agency—that no doubt other agencies will seek to have the cars
and jurisdiction under their authority. Doors. 300 doors, and the question is
which doors will open and close before the mystery of who owned and imported the
six luxury cars. Next week, reading the local press will be an exercise in
observing multiple doors opening and slamming shut like a nineteenth century
prison cell. Could the Australians take the fall for those luxury cars? Did
someone fall asleep again? Somewhere, official wheels are turning, door knobs to
One of George Orwell’s most enduring essays is titled
Shooting an Elephant. In the 1930s George Orwell served as a colonial
official in Burma. He was a sub-divisional police officer. Young Orwell’s hatred
of the idea of empire was only matched by his brutal contempt felt toward the
unfortunate souls who were the subject of the imperial occupation of their
His iconic essay about an
elephant goes to the heart of imperialism—the linkage of the despot with the
expectations of those they exploited. The story begins when the narrator
received a phone call about an elephant on the rampage into a bazaar. He takes
out his old .44 Winchester, knowing it is too small a weapon to down an
elephant, but as a means to frighten the beast. The elephant is in musth and the
mahout has taken the wrong turn ending up twelve hours away.
All the weapons in the
empire are with the authorities. The locals were without weapons and as a result
‘were quite helpless’ against the raging elephant. They could only stand to the
side and observe destruction of a hut, fruit-stalls, the eating of produce,
overturning a van, and killing a black Dravidian coolie who’d been stomped to
death in the mud. And wait for the British colonial officials to handle the
problem. The locals were victims. They were passive. Their alternative was to
wait for those with guns to arrive and save the day.
Having laid eyes on the
dead man, the narrator sent a servant to a friend’s house to borrow an elephant
gun. Once he had the elephant gun, the mood of the crowd changed from
indifference to an expectation of harvesting the elephant’s meat once it had
been shot. A small army of locals followed on the heels of the official to the
paddy field where elephant as found quietly eating bunches of grass.
The danger had gone out of
the situation. The elephant was calmly feeding itself and no more dangerous than
a cow. The official had no desire to kill the elephant. And saw no compelling
reason to do so until he saw the crowd of 2,000 Burmese watching and waiting. It
was not idle interest that drew them to the field. He represented authority. He
had an elephant gun. They had only their hands. “A sahib has to act like a
sahib…” He had no choice but to act out his role; it was impossible not to kill
the elephant not because the elephant was a danger but because an armed man
without resolution was no longer to be feared. He must never show fear to the
natives. A fearful man without resolve no longer projected that he was the
legitimate master of their destiny. He might be despised but he would be feared
and that was the framework on which empire rested.
The killing of the
elephant was a messy affair with multiple shots and great suffering by the
beast, taking a good half an hour to die. Afterwards, opinion was divided as to
whether the official had done the right thing by killing the elephant. What made
him happy was that the coolie had been killed. It had been his death that gave
justification to the death of an elephant that was no longer a danger to anyone.
The shooting had been more of an execution of a murderer. No one could deny that
murder had happened. While an elephant couldn’t form the intention to kill as a
human being could nonetheless having stomped to death the coolie, no one could
say that the shooting had been wrong.
Orwell’s parable about an
elephant can’t be disconnected from the context of empire. A modern version of
the story happened last week in Thailand. A Thai nurse and her husband visited
Lae Paniad Elephant Kraal in Ayutthaya. The nurse had offered an elephant named
Plai Big some food. The elephant grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him,
stomping on her with his foot. Her husband rushed to help his wife. Plai Big
gored him. The nurse died from massive injuries to her internal organs. The
husband was seriously injured.
Like Orwell’s Shooting
an Elephant, an elephant, a 27-year-old 3 tonne male, had killed a local.
In this case, the dead woman was a nurse. She was hardly a member of the coolie
class that featured in Orwell’s story. No one ran to the authorities and asked
that a police official be dispatched to shoot the elephant. The Thai resolution
had a different outcome. A ritual was performed at the elephant kraal. The ends
of the elephant’s tusks were sawed off by 20 centimeters. The purpose of the
ceremony was to free the elephant of the spirit of the dead woman. It was
reported that Plai Big would never work with the public again. . Plai Big fate
will be to spend the rest of his days in solitary confinement.
In Orwell’s story there
was a tragedy. In the contemporary Thai story there was a similar tragedy. When
foreigners occupy another land, the need to maintain fear and authority ruled
out any other option. It was never about the elephant; it had always been about
monopoly to use violence as the means to show resolve. Nothing short of pulling
the trigger to kill could establish such resolve was beyond question. To
maintain order was to show that resolve even though it wasn’t necessary. And
maybe that is the point of Orwell’s story. Indecisiveness in the exercise of
force would have been a sign of weakness. One man in a crowd of 2,000, if weak,
would not survive. He would be laughed at. And the last thing a man with a gun
can allow is laughter at his expense.
In Thailand, the dynamic
was different. By not shooting an elephant, no official would not expose to
belittling laughter. The elephant didn’t have to die to maintain authority
and the right to use force. Rather than violence as a response, a ritual as held
to free the elephant from the spirit of the dead woman. A metaphysical
resolution rather than physical violence ruled the day. Also in the Thai story,
the elephant had a name, an age, and an identity. In the Orwell story, the
elephant, like the locals and the dead coolie were nameless as was the
The tragedy of elephants
isn’t that they sometimes kill people but the aftermath of the survivors, what
they expect to happen and who is in charge of the weapons. The elephant in both
cases acted out of hormonal heat, a moment of rage. Compare that with the choice
given the very human foreign armed policeman who when pressed by size of the
crowd around him killed the elephant in cold blood. It is the premeditation, the
thought process, the politics that are disturbing and haunting. The elephants
shame us by showing how we calculate in our killings, and the rituals of healing
is only available once a community draws upon its own traditions without
interference from the outside.
From Syria to the West
Bank to Pakistan, Iraq and Afghanistan, the expectation that killing the
elephant is required has not changed from Orwell’s Burmese Days. The
lesson is clear occupiers use terror and fear to maintain control over local
populations. It is also clear that the lesson hasn’t been learned as the forces
of imperialism are tested just as they were Orwell time, and those who are
occupied welcome the raging elephant because he provides thousands to judge for
the first signs of weakness to embolden themselves to take up weapons against
the elephant killer who are not one of their own.
In Bangkok and New York,
Barney Rosset told me many stories about Henry Miller. He’d published
Miller and knew the author personally. My views about Henry Miller have been
shaped by Barney’s recollections over the years. Richard Seavers also had a long
history with Barney. A friend gave me a copy of a memoir written by Henry
Miller’s Paris friend and contemporary, a photographer named Brassaï.
Henry Miller The Paris
Years was published in 1995 by Arcade Publishing, a press run by
Richard Seaver. I’d met Richard Seaver in New York at Barney’s loft in the East
Village and again at Barney’s table at the National Book Foundation award
ceremony in 2008 when Barney was given a lifetime achievement.
With those connections, I
was the right audience for Henry Miller: the Paris Years, having know a couple
of the people who were close to Miller for years. You can be close to someone
without knowing the interior layers that go deep, where stuff is hidden,
forgotten, fractured into a prism like mystery. Even when you know them
well, years later when you seek to recall what was said and done, the memory can
play illusive games.
I am weary of memoirs
written by the friends of famous people. It is natural that they will put
themselves in the center of the famous friend’s life. That is a danger. I
wondered if Brassaï fell into that trap.
Brassaï was one of Henry
Miller’s friends. The one result of fame is that an author’s friends have their
memories and correspondence ready for a memoir about the author, his life,
habits, attitudes, weaknesses, ticks, and philosophy.
The book titled Henry
Miller The Paris Years ends with, “Henry left France without tears, without
regret, and without looking back, as if the ten years he’d lived there had
simply vanished.” I wish that Barney were still around to ask if that was his
take on Miller’s years in France. His time in France had made Henry
Miller’s reputation; it has established him as a writer, a genius, and a
literary tiger. I have been around expats a large portion of my life—it is very
rare to find someone who has lived in a culture as Henry Miller did in France
would discard the place like an old sweater.
Henry Miller’s Tropic
of Cancer, and his other major works, were written out of experience that
was processed through a hyperactive imagination. His reality was the result of
this creative process. The boundaries of fiction, make-believe, became the raw
ingredients of life in Paris and cooking up an exotic confection. His books were
not just exotic, they were—according to the Americans—obscene. The Tropic of
Capricorn was banned. But for the efforts of Barney Rosset who spent a
personal fortune on court battles (only stopping at the Supreme Court of the
United States) started in the 1960s. Henry Miller’s Tropic of Capricorn
had established himself as a writer that upset officials who decided what could
be read in the United States.
Miller’s Paris experience sheds light on his views on relationships, sexuality,
identity, memory and imagination. Pornography is largely the legal conclusion
from the conservative elites that the combination of those elements must stay
within strict boundaries of propriety.
Henry Miller, according to
Brassaï, a person was lucky or unlucky on whom they met. For a writer, who
needed the constant input of new experiences, Paris brought him much luck in
companions. If experience was fuel, the high-octane stuff came from two
women. Anaïs Nin, born in Paris, American by nationality, a Spanish father, and
Franco-Danish mother—the original globalized woman before anyone used the term
globalization. She kept a diary that by the time Miller met her ran to 48
notebooks—but she dismissed them as ‘bloody ejaculations.” It was a relationship
of conflicting attitudes toward literature, a writer’s role, and the nature of
reality. Anaïs Nin believed that a writer should stay bound into the moment of
truth, not to filter it through imagination, which changed the reality to
something no longer true. Henry Miller was at the opposite pole—where reality
until processed and transformed by imagination would never become ‘real’ and
fiction and myth were the techniques of this transformation.
Anaïs Nin was Miller’s
intellectual muse. Brassaï writes that during the two-year period that the
Tropic of Cancer was put on ice by a publisher in Paris anxious about
possible legal problems, Anaïs Nin guided Miller through multiple rewrites. It
wouldn’t have been the book that made his reputation without her tireless,
patient pushing him to make changes.
Another woman, June, was
Miller’s sensual muse. She walked on the wild side. A woman filled with a huge
amount of energy, men were attracted to her, and she exchanged sexual favors for
money. As June’s husband, Henry Miller didn’t ask where the source of her money
was coming from. It was no surprise to learn that Henry Miller admired the pimps
who gathered at Chez Paul near the offices of the Chicago Herald Tribune, 5 Rue
Lamartine, in the heart of Paris’ red light district. He admired their power of
women, their lack of shame, their sales banter and their disdain for ordinary
work. They had a life style that Henry Miller idealized as one route to take in
the rebellion against culture and those in authority.
June had, in Brassaï’s
view, a superabundance of life; she was one of those people with ten times the
intensity and energy of ordinary mortals. If one is writing out of experience,
hooking one’s star to such a woman as June propelled Henry Miller into dramas
that most writers would never dream possible. Her betrayals and lies
created a stormy relationship. At the same time, passive women bored him. Such a
woman was an open book. Miller didn’t want that kind of woman.
Brassaï writes that Miller
married June without knowing the basic like place of birth, name or family
background He wanted mystery, someone who was unpredictable, unreachable, whose
life and background remained vague and unknown. June was not just a siren, she
was a cypher—one that Miller tried with his imagination to break the code. He
failed in that goal, but his failure to decode June nonetheless set him on a
journey that inspired him to write two brilliant books: Tropic of
Cancer and Tropics of Capricorn. June felt committed to Miller;
though he was a genius, and for her, he was the one true love of her life. For
Miller, June was part of his expression of open rebellion against his Brooklyn
upbringing. They were both displaced spirits seeking to escape old lives
and create new ones.
One detail of Miller’s
writing habit concerned his daily routine of walking the streets of Paris. He
was a great observer. He could only think on his feet. And that meant walking
around examining buildings, people, activities until some thought—the
Voice—would come into his head and he’d rush back to his room and sit in front
of his typewriter as the cascading images, ideas, and expressions tumbled out of
his mind and onto paper. He was less interested in the truth—thus his arguments
with Anaïs Nin—then in stories he drew from observations. For Brassaï Miller’s
casual relationship with the truth was ‘bewildering’. In Tropic of
Capricorn, June emerged as a character filtered through imagination to the
point she was no longer recognizable from the flesh and blood woman he had
In the end the well of
Henry Miller’s experience drifted away. He left Paris without a backward glance.
Anaïs Nin drifted away. He slipped away from June. Having lost the city and two
women who had inspired him, brought him the Voice that defined him, there is a
lesson to be learnt for an author. If your work is dredging experience arises
from the lucky strike of a gold mine of life, like all resources, sooner or
later the gold runs out. The mine is an empty shell, a hole in the ground, and a
hole in the heart. Only a few writers are lucky enough to find the perfect match
of time, place, and companions that put him in touch with that Voice—the one
that moves and touches not just the author but readers for
In a book titled
Chairs, I wrote about Barney Rosset’s Henry Miller connection in a
story called Star of Love. I had asked Barney if Henry Miller had discovered
Bangkok would it have changed his life. Barney replied, “Totally. Absolutely.
How could it have not influenced him?” In the end, Barney said that Henry Miller
holed up on top of a mountain in the Big Sur. He had a security guard at the
bottom where there was a dirt road. The guard’s job was to stop anyone going up
to bother Henry.
This was the author who
roamed the streets of Paris searching for the Voice. The oyster had closed its
shell. No more pearls would emerge. Brassaï set out how he saw Henry Miller’s
reality. Too bad there’s no chance to ask Anaïs Nin if Henry Miller The
Paris Years was filtered through the imagination factory—part illusion,
part hallucination. Or does the author give the reader the unfiltered,
unmediated truth. But the person I’d really like to ask is June. What would she
have thought of this version of the truth? All these people are dead. Whatever
the truth of their reality will continue to slip into the recycle bin of their
reimagined lives once created for succeeding generations. A literary life that
has the capacity for self-generating truths by those who knew the author is
rare. We are reminded that truth rung through the active imagination of
writers like Brassaï is part of what keeps Henry Miller alive in the minds of
readers today. Oblivion is the alternative.
After finishing Brassia’s
memoir, and thinking about the big picture, the reader could say that Henry
Miller was a lucky man.Luck has a great role in a writer’s life. As I put the
book aside, I felt I had been lucky to have discovered Bangkok when it was the
Paris of the 1930s, a place where Barney Rosset, Henry Miller’s friend,
discovered my existence, making me a small piece in the chain of people who have
written about Henry Miller.
Miller had Paris, while I
had Bangkok pretty much to myself for the early years, and it was a place where
I walked, explored, learnt a language and culture and the place where I found my
Voice. Unlike Miller, I couldn’t imagine leaving Bangkok for the isolation of a
mountain top or, at the very least, not without stopping and looking back one
last time to say a final goodbye to all of that.
Your mother, Susan, who is
a long-time reader of my books, asked me to suggest a reading list for your
16th birthday. What books would I recommend for a 16-year-old? Every
author and reader would suggest a different list of authors and titles. Choices
such as these will be contentious. No list is ever complete. What I’ve
recommended are a dozen authors as your son’s first steps of the long-term
journey into the world of creativity and imagination.
Some authors combine ideas
or thoughts with creativity to create works of pure imagination. Other authors
draw upon their experiences processed through a vivid, compelling imagination to
create art. Others still like Orwell found political ideology and expatriate
life the source for his imagination to take hold.
I’ve included a number of
expatriate authors who have found that life inside another culture has given
them a creative space for their imaginations to take flight. I pass along a list
of recommended authors and titles with a warning: any attempt to create
categories is a risky and dangerous business. The dangers have much in common
with the idea of considering books according to genre. In that ghetto, books are
confined to categories, for example, literary, crime, science fiction or
In reality, works of
genius transcend literary categories. As you can see from my recommended list,
Orwell and Miller are found under more than one category—illustrating my point
that genius refuses to be pigeonholed.
My categories, in other
words, are broad guidelines, and aren’t to be taken too seriously. They are
rough signposts and signal my own personal taste and development as a writer.
When I was 16 years old, I would have liked a nudge as what to read during my
teens. You will no doubt find your own favorite authors and books along the way.
Read them, too. Avoid, if you can, the latest fashion or trend. Books come and
go. Only a few have the staying power to be read by another
The works below have such
staying power. The list isn’t meant to be definitive. The list is a start; not
the end. It is also eccentric and personal reflecting to my own biases,
interests, values, and experience. Given that limitation, over the next year of
your life, you might set aside time for reading each of them. Each of the works,
deserves to be read at 16-years-old, and again at 26-years-old. Read them and
reread them as you grow older and through this process, you may discover ideas,
images, thoughts and visions that you missed in the earlier readings. And you
will discover new things about yourself that life has bestowed.
If I had read them in the
sweathouse of my youth, I can only wonder what impact that might have had on my
life. As a birthday present, I send this list with the hope that your life long
pursuit of books will benefit from this early start.
Jorge Luis Borges: The circle of Ruins, The
Immortals, and The Library of Babel
Jose Saramago: Blindness, The Year of the Death
of Ricardo Reis
Isaac Asimov: The Foundation Series
Louis-Ferdinand Celine: Journey to the End of
Henry Miller: Tropic of
George Orwell: Down and Out in
Alice Munro: Runaway
George Orwell: 1984, Animal Farm, The Hanging,
Homage to Catalonia
Margaret Atwood: the Handmaid’s Tale
Henry Miller: Tropic of
Graham Greene: The Quiet
Lawrence Durrell: The Alexander
Somerset Maugham: The Moon and Six Pence, Razor’s
journalists in Southeast Asia is like the person walking point into a jungle
filled with booby-traps, snipers and ambushes. It takes a very special person to
volunteer for walking point.
Bopha Porn is such a
She is a reporter for the
Cambodian Daily. She is also a very brave journalist. Recognition of that
bravery came this week with the announcement by the International Women’s Media
Foundation of 2013 Courage in
Journalism Awards. Three awards were given for
courage to three women from around the world. Bopha Porn was one of the three.
She is the first woman in Cambodia to receive this award.
The citation that comes
with the award reads:
“In [April] 2012, Phorn
narrowly escaped with her life when the vehicle in which she was traveling came
under heavy fire. Phorn was investigating claims of illegal logging in a
protected area of the Cambodian jungle with another journalist and an
environmental activist when gunmen with AK-47s sprayed the car with shots. The
activist, Chut Wutty, was killed. Phorn’s reporting on land and environmental
issues, as well as her stories about criminal activity and human rights abuses,
have made her the target of other life-threatening attacks.”
I had an appointment with
Bopha in Phnom Penh in April 2012. I arrived a day after Chut Wutty had been
killed. I didn’t know at that time the circumstances of his death or that Bopha
had been next to him Chut Wutty when he was killed. We were meeting to go over
final edits of her short story, Dark Truths, for the anthology
Phnom Penh Noir.
When I rang her, Bopha
said she couldn’t make the meeting. She said she wasn’t in Phnom Penh. She asked
if I could meet her where she was staying. I asked where she was, and she
replied, “Near the Vietnamese border.” Then she told me the entire story and how
she was concerned that returning to Phnom Penh might be risky as she’d witnessed
the killing of Chut Wutty, who was attempting to expose illegal logging.
Twenty-four hours later, she was back in Phnom Penh. She couldn’t stay away from
her job at the Cambodian Daily. Hiding out wasn’t in her nature. We had lunch
and she told me her story.
In this part of the world,
where illegal logging is often linked to government officials, witnesses to the
murder of environmentalists, human rights activists, and others seeking to
expose official wrongdoing are danger. She was absolutely right to find a
temporary shelter away from officials who might seek to clean up the loose
We talked several times
that day and Bopha decided to return to Phnom Penh. The news of Chut Wutty’s
murder had gone out on the wires. It wasinternational
Following an extrajudicial
killing, officials in this part of the world don’t normally issue an order to
kill a journalist who witnessed the murder once the eyes of an international
audience are watching. If that possibility isn’t open, other options present
According to Asian
the Cambodian legal system found that “Rattana was accidentally shot by a former
employee of Timbergreen. The employee was sentenced to two years in jail on
October 22, 2012 with 18 months of that sentence suspended. He walked free less than two weeks
local NGOs called it a “mockery of justice”.”
Bopha Porn has continued
her investigative reporting from her base at the Cambodian Daily in Phnom Penh.
Her courage makes her a role model for journalists throughout Southeast Asia.
Reporters find themselves in situations where powerful vested interest with
impunity from the law intimidate, bribe, or threaten the most brave of them. No
one is ever paid enough money as a journalist to take a bullet for justice,
freedom and fairness.
For someone like Bopha
Porn, it has never been about the money. It has been about exposing those who
have accumulated wealth at the expense of their nation, murdered others to
increase that wealth, and destroy the natural resources along the way. Asia
needs heroes in this struggle.
Some criminals start out
young as they embark on a life of crime. Many reasons can be found to explain
why someone turned ‘bad’ and adopted the life of an outlaw. One of those reasons
is financial. The criminal wants a certain life style that takes money. He has a
choice—find a job, save up for the car, the condo, the holidays, to support his
partner and dependents. Or if his plans are grand, then no regular job will
finance the structure of a life that only the wealthy are able to
Occasionally, there is a
criminal who has a broad vision of his future. His life plan could only be
financed by winning a super lottery or by crime.
the photograph and story by ace reporter Sunthon Pongpao about the arrest of
Saichol (in Thailand
people are referred to by their first name) was cornered in Wang Noi district,
Ayutthaya by the police in a drug sting. The suspect opened up with his .357
hand gun at a number of police officers. The spent shells indicated he fired 5
times (keep that number in mind, we will come back to it).
The report said that the
police were unharmed as they wore bulletproof vests. But there was no mention as
to whether the fired shots by Saichol struck anywhere near the vicinity of the
arresting officers. If they’d bounced off the bulletproof vests, I have a
feeling the vest with the holes would have been displayed for the
Saichol’s shooting skills
are a valid subject of inquiry, as one of the 5 rounds (remember the number 5,
we are getting there) resulted in a self-inflicted wound to his left
In other words, the
suspect shot himself in the left leg resisting arrest by a small army of
That degree of accuracy
doesn’t suggest he was a trained marksman or professional gunman. In the
photograph accompanying the article (you’ll have to go to the earlier Bangkok
Post link to see it, as it is copyrighted, and we wouldn’t want to breach a
copyright), Saichol is seated at a table, a crew of non-smiling Thai police
officers standing behind him and at his side, the .357 handgun on the table and
box of shells spread out so everyone can see exactly what a .357 round looks
Saichol was photographed
wearing a T-shirt with the words—I Am Awesome. That may seem
like a young man’s bravado. It would have been quite wrong had the T-Shirt
said—I Am a Crack Shot. Awesomeness is something few people can
rightly claim at any age, while anyone can learn to shoot a gun.
What did the police
discover in their investigation of the suspect’s background?
First, he’s quite young–25
years old. I know I said that before. How much living did you have behind you at
25? I’d wager a bet it doesn’t come close to Saichol.
Second, he’d done 5 years
in prison for attempted murder, as well as drug dealing and theft (as also
reported by Thai-language newspapers). Matichon reported that Saichol confessed
that he had been to jail 5 times. The fact he’s a lousy shot may
explain the prior attempted murder conviction.
Third, his ability as a
drug dealer rivals his shooting ability. He sold yaba (‘crazy drug’),
the Thai phrase for methamphetaimes pills.
Fourth, and here comes
that most auspicious number 5 in Saichol’s young life, he has 5 wives. The wives
live in 5 different households. 5 houses. 5 rice cookers, 5 TV sets, 5
dental/medical bills, 5 motorcycles/cars, 5 wardrobes. That takes some serious
cash. Economies of scale aren’t in his favor. Note to Ministry of
Education—mathematical courses ought to teach scaling, power laws, and how to
buy food and other stuff in bulk.
Fifth, there is no mention
as to which one of the five shots hit his leg. Was it the first shot? That may
explain why he squeezed off 4 more shots without hitting any of the cops. Was he
trying some kind of fast draw and pulled the trigger before removing the .357
from his holster? Or was it the 5th shot, and that ended his shooting
Odds makers in Saichol’s
hometown are offering higher odds for the self-inflicted shot coming from rounds
2, 3 or 4. Was he left handed or right handed? If the cops are standing in front
of you, how do you shoot yourself in the left leg? It’s these kind of questions
you’d think someone would put to the suspect. Perhaps they were but answers are
never reported. Why is that? Maybe the sequence of the round will come out in
evidence at his trial. Though he will likely cop a plea and there will be no
trial and the mystery of the number of the round that hit his leg will
Let’s summarize what we
know so far: Saichol is a high testosterone 25 years old, who is a bad shot.
His left leg suffered a self-inflicted .357 hole from one of 5 rounds he
fired. He was nabbed red-handed with 1,000 yaba pills.
On his earlier conviction
Saichol spent 5 years in the monkey house. He supported 5 Thai wives in 5
different households. He’s been in jail 5 times.
Karma and the number 5 are
finely woven into Saichol’s life.
One would have to
begrudgingly concede that Saichol has earned the right to wear his T-shirt in
his meet the press with the police glowering in the background.
Rumor has it that all of
the underground lottery tickets in Ayutthayawith 555 were quickly snapped up
after the news of his most recent arrest broke. There has been no word on how
his 5 wives will support themselves as their common husband returns to prison.
Note to the Press: Visitation rights should be an interesting story to follow
up. Will the gang of 5 wives have to draw straws or can they visit as a group?
The BBC, CNN and others would follow like a pack of hungry wolves should they
appear together wearing T-shirts—He’s Awesome.
The question is whether
Saichol will again get another 5-years stretch in the big house, and at age 30
emerge a changed man. Can he go straight? Will he have learned his lesson? Which
of the 5 wives will be waiting to greet him upon his release? Can this be turned
into a Reality Show?
As for that
T-shirt—I Am Awesome—it might be the one shirt that he doesn’t
want to wear inside the big house. He might think about a tattoo.