Editor’s Note: In early 2020, a series of pro-democracy protests rocked Thailand. Largely led by the youth, the movement started as small, isolated demonstrations on campus grounds, and were initially only in response to the dissolution of a prominent political party critical of the government. But from these academic beginnings, the protests gained unstoppable momentum, eventually spilling out and taking over the streets. Generally without singular leadership, the movement nevertheless was united in its goal: sweeping reforms to the government and to the monarchy.
Shortly after the protests gained steam, it captured headlines both local and international. Today, though the coverage has subsided, the movement has not. The Thai people continue to storm the streets, clamoring for radical change in the country. Such a massive and persevering movement has sparked hope in some of the older progressives: After years of trying and failing, is it finally time for Thailand to transition into an age of genuine democracy?
In the following feature, writer Anna Lawattanatrakul pays witness to one of these rekindled flames of hope. Artist Wittawat Tongkeaw is convinced that younger generations have the potential to swing Thai society in the right direction, and though still weary of being too optimistic, he’s come out with a new exhibit to help move the pendulum along.
Near the heart of Sukhumvit, one of Bangkok’s most action-packed, cosmopolitan neighborhoods, stands a stoic, modern building. Two angular lines run down the middle of its tall slate façade, breaking it into two halves and revealing long glass panels beneath.
Inside, the SAC Gallery provides a space for some of the most avant-garde creations of Thailand’s most prominent, talented artists.
On June 24, 2021, right on the 89th anniversary of the 1932 revolution that ended the hold of absolute monarchy over the country, the SAC saw the launch of veteran artist Wittawat Tongkeaw’s newest exhibit.
Titled “The L/Royal Monument,” Tongkeaw’s latest solo exhibition tells stories of “Thailand’s political crossroads.” The artworks are incredibly diverse in terms of medium but tell a unifying story of the struggle for democracy in the country. One room contains photographs of life on the streets, some installation art, and landscapes of locations such as Sanam Luang and Ratchaprasong intersection, both of which have been notable sites of protest throughout the years.
Another installation features a section of the wall of Wat Pathum Wanaram, a Buddhist temple that, during a 2010 crackdown on anti-government protests, served as a safe haven for the injured.
In another room, Tongkeaw displayed portraits of political persecutees Anon Nampa, Patiwat “Mor Lam Bank” Saraiyaem, and a teenager known as “K.” The exhibit also features a painting of things belonging to Bundit Aneeya, an 80-year-old writer who had come under government scrutiny in recent years.
All of them had been charged under Section 112, or the lèse majesté law, which criminalizes acts that defame, threaten, or insult the Thai monarchy. (In January this year, related charges against Bundit Aneeya were dropped).
Tongkeaw said that regarding the issue of lèse majesté, he had been particularly gripped by people on both sides of the debate dismissing each other as fake news.
“The right said we’re stupid, that we misunderstood, that this side is fake news. Our side also said that you’re fake news, too. It’s going back and forth like this. The only way to prove it is to do fieldwork,” he said.
Veteran artist Wittawat Tongkeaw released his newest exhibit, the “L/Royal Monument,” displayed at the SAC Gallery at Sukhumvit, Bangkok. Through it, he says, he wants to tell the story of Thailand at a political crossroads and to give lend his voice to the pro-democracy movement in the country.
So, in preparing for his exhibit, that’s exactly what Tongkeaw did. He attended court hearings in order to meet the defendants in person, which he says allowed him to “truly answer whether what I’m suspicious about is true.”
“I’d never been to court in my life,” he says. “I went and sat and listened in on the hearings. Some of the reactions I’ve been told by people that this was how it was going to be, I saw it myself and proved it with my own eyes.”
Because of the experience, Tongkeaw continues, “I’ll believe from reason, from the evidence that is in front of me. I found that it answers what I used to question, and I got the true answer about what it’s like by myself.”
What stayed with him from the lèse majesté hearings was how the defendants were treated as if they were already guilty even though there was still no verdict, and how they have to prove their innocence, which he found absurd.
“It’s strange that is there such a thing that when you’re suspected, you’re already presumed guilty, and then you have to prove that you’re innocent. It’s laughable.,” Tongkeaw says. “Nowhere else in the world is this true. When you have not yet been proven guilty, right up until the end, you must be considered innocent.”
“This is why we have to demand that Anon or Penguin (Parit Chiwarak) be released. It’s not that they’re right, but you should wait until the end of the court trial to make a judgement. But why did you put them in jail?” the artist asks. “The intention is obvious. Every action shows what the intention is. If you’re not blind, you must see that there is something unusual or unfair happening to the judicial process.”
“Already got one foot in jail”
The exhibition, Tongkeaw says, is an homage to memories often buried under mainstream narratives. “One memory in Thai society is the mainstream memory, and it’s very strong,” he said.
“I’m just trying to make another set of meanings to go alongside it,” Tongkeaw continues. “So ‘Loyal monument’ for me is not ‘Royal,’ as in the mainstream. It’s a different set, which I think is something that still doesn’t have enough space. I do what I can, and I try to raise the ceiling as much as possible, so that there is gradually more room for what we can do.”
In a society where there are many taboos, Tongkeaw believes that art is one of the best ways to give space for discussions on these topics. Symbolism allows for meaning to stay hidden, and the symbols can be interpreted in numerous ways.
“We can hide it or change it from something that is straightforward to something that is not straightforward, so that it can’t be seen as a problem or be straightforward so that the state can do something to us,” he says.
But in Thailand, artists who want to work on progressive political themes are still limited by the boundaries set by the state, Tongkeaw laments, while conservative artists are free to do whatever they want, as long as they do not criticize the status quo.
“One side can do anything,” he says. “They can do it all, but they know that doing anything for them means that they won’t criticize. They won’t curse. They will only admire. But the opposite side, they can’t even question things. This is very strange.”
Tongkeaw’s exhibit features portraits of pro-democracy activists, like Patiwat Saraiyaem (pictured above), many of whom have been detained by the government under the lèse majesté law. Foundational to the formation of the exhibit was Tongkeaw’s first-hand accounts of how these protesters are deemed guilty by the justice system even before their verdicts.
Nevertheless, even though each gallery has different political identities, he admits that he is lucky in that he has not had issues finding exhibition space for his work, something he said might be because he has been part of Thailand’s art scene for a while. Younger artists, Tongkeaw says, might encounter such difficulties.
But he also thinks that artists no longer require gallery space in the age of social media, as online spaces can now act as exhibition space.
Asked if he was concerned about intimidation from state officials, Tongkeaw said that he isn’t afraid, even though he recognized that artists who worked on political themes in the past faced challenges due to their subject matter. For him, the 2020 pro-democracy movement has lifted the limits on what can be discussed in society.
“I spoke to (former political prisoner and writer) Prontip Mankhong. She said that if you’re doing this work, you’ve already got one foot in jail,” he says.
“She said: ‘why do you have to be afraid?’ It’s like why do we have to protect ourselves so much? What do we have to be so afraid of to work? If that’s the case, then we won’t be able to do anything, but we have to do it if we can, and we have to use as much of our intelligence as we have to, so that it communicates with people, and at the same time in a safe way,” Tongkeaw adds. “But if you ask whether I’m afraid, I’m not that afraid.”
A wider world
For Tongkeaw, the level of creativity during the 2020 youth-led pro-democracy movement gives him hope, as it shows what the younger generation is capable of, and that young people have experienced a wider world than the older generation. Although he still finds this as a hopeless fight, his teaching experience gave him the opportunity to see that the old ways of thinking are not passed down to the younger generation. Young people no longer follow their parents and are able to form their own beliefs from the information they have.
“The state knows this. It’s not that it doesn’t know. The state knows, so it has to deal with them,” Tongkeaw says. “But people who don’t know that the kids have this capacity are people who have stayed with the state for a long time and become its tool. Those people will think that the kids can’t think for themselves and may get easily manipulated.”
“That’s stupid, to say it frankly,” he adds. “You don’t understand what the situation is like at all. Everyone is capable, and the kids know this because they have the media in their hands. They have social media in their hands […] They have a much wider world than we do.”
As one moves through the four rooms of the exhibition, the light grows progressively darker. Tongkeaw explains that this is because he sees twilight as a time of transition, and for him, the country is at a crossroads, but change will not come if the people do not come together to push it forward.
“I don’t know when we’re going to get to midnight, because once we get there it’ll start to get lighter. Personally, as an artist, I think that Thai society should be nearing midnight, but in fact I said this three years ago at my last exhibition,” he said. “I hope that it’s going to be bright soon.”
“The world absolutely has to turn to follow the younger generation, because in the end, the older generation has to go, and the younger generation will come up. They know this, so they try to keep this memory going, but the younger generation is going to arrive. The world has to move through the younger generation,” Tongkeaw adds.
“They won’t change no matter what, so it must change someday in the future, but it’s a question of how long they can stall it, and we are helping to accelerate it so that it happens within our lifetime, because I want to see it too.”
“The L/Royal Monument” will be on display at SAC Gallery from now until 18 September 2021. ●
This article was first published by Prachatai on June 29, 2021, and is being republished here by the Asia Democracy Chronicles with their permission.
