A reporter's memoir: The Unseen South

February 25 , 2005

The violence in the South that has escalated over a year shows no end in sight. Complicated in nature, the multi-layer conflicts could be attributed to cultural and ethnic differences as well as economic and social disparities among the southern population. Government' lack of understanding, and its resort to use of force, has yet exacerbated the situations. For over half a decade, Bangkok Post journalist Supara Janchitfah has been covering the region, and in this special report, reveal the sad, perturbing stories that continue to rip apart the southern soil.

Over the over five years, I have spent many days in the South roaming around, using the bus as my main mode of transport, providing me with opportunities to talk with people in the street and in villages. I hired open air taxis and took motorcycle taxis to many places around the three provinces. I stayed overnight in many villages, not in luxury hotels. These conditions became a blessing in disguise as they allowed me to learn of locals' real pains and anguish, which have remained largely unheard. I witnessed and learned from the locals how they were being abused by state agencies.

I spoke to different group of people, many who trusted, some who did not. They told me about what they had been encountering and feeling. In some cases I promised not to put their names in my stories as many were afraid they might become targets of government officials, separatists, arm traders, illegal traders, big commercial trawlers operators and so on – groups who have made the situation in the South more complex. I do not claim to know all the facts about the unrest, but I think I have done enough listening and had enough discussions with different groups of people to gain the information needed to reflect their sentiments.

The violence in the South that has escalated over a year shows no end in sight. More and more people are killed in broad daylight. Very few of those responsible have been caught, and many people have been made scapegoats. More and more harsh measures are being used by the state and the atmosphere of distrust continues to intensify. How can officials work for the benefit of the people when they think locals cannot be trusted? Likewise, how can people trust authorities when people in uniform search their houses, villages, and pondoks everyday? How can they tolerate being "watched", being in watch lists, and regularly being tormented mentally and physically?

Is there a solution to the violence? Certainly, yes. But whether the government is willing to listen and allow the formation of new policies by the local people is questionable. Many agencies have already drafted strategies to tackle the unrest. Yet, what the government is doing now does not reflect those proposals.

To ease resentment and to stem the flow of tragic tears, the government needs to change its attitude and policies towards locals, admit its mistakes and begin to seriously address the problem.

Understanding the history of forced assimilation and respecting cultural and ethnic differences are among the necessary and crucial measures needed. Having said all this, I do not mean that all locals are sweet and innocent. But why worry about those who want to secede? They are not the majority. Why doesn't the government make this country a warm society for the majority? Bring them justice and trust, let them practice their religion and listen to their voices. Simultaneously, we must criticize those who bring about the chaos, ask them what they actually want and bring them to the dialogue table and punish the wrong-doers according to the law.