The author of this book comments at one point that when the UK's Elizabeth II visited Thailand in 1996 she must have envied the Thai royal family their continuing status, in particular the absence of the media gossip that has in recent years almost engulfed their British counterparts. How did this remarkable situation come about?
A European visitor to Bangkok in the early 19th century reported that it was forbidden to look at the Thai king's face, and that he consequently conducted audiences in deep shadow or from behind a curtain. All members of the royal court chewed betel, never wore socks, and sported closely cropped hair. Portraits were unknown as they were believed to constitute a threat to your very life essence.
A generation later King Mongkut was photographed wearing Western trousers, polished black shoes and a European-style army officer's jacket, seated at a table with, in the background, what looks astonishingly like a fireplace. What had happened?
This academic monograph from the National University of Singapore is about the ways in which the Thai monarchy chose to present itself in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Essentially they moved from a royal house fashioned according to long-standing Thai traditions, mostly based on Indian models, to one that appeared in a considerable measure to be Western.
But their aim in showing themselves as they did, the author argues, was not to announce how "progressive" they were, but to assert their power in both regional and global arenas. In the new situation where Europe and the US had moved as major forces into Asian affairs, it was Western fashions that ruled. The Thai kings therefore adopted Western dress, not in order to be up-to-date, but to show they were a force to be reckoned with in the new situation.
What these Thai monarchs were doing was proclaiming that they too were part of a new world. Their outward display, and many of their actual initiatives, were modeled on the court of Queen Victoria, itself something that had revived and remodeled itself a generation or so earlier.
Prior to Victoria, royal scandals had proliferated and public support was not high. With Victoria, however, and especially with her husband Albert, came both respectability and important supports for the industrialized and empire-building state.
One of the developments the author looks as is "the invention of tradition." Almost everyone today believes, for instance, that Scots' tartans and kilts are part of a proud people's ancient heritage. It isn't true. The Scots wore a plaid, a kind of blanket slung across the shoulders. But the Victorian authorities in London, anxious to make military use of a people their 18th century predecessors had battered into submission in the terrible Battle of Culloden and the subsequent evictions ("clearances"), invented the colorful theater of tartan, bagpipe and kilt, and then imposed it on a bemused population. There were elements of it in the Scottish past, but its widespread application was a ruse. Kilts were not even manufactured in Scotland, but in Liverpool in the north of England.
Similarly, the Thai royal house invented traditions, among them royal processions. These were very much the vogue in Europe, and the Thais followed suit, with Buddhist elements added. The inclusion of elephants and tiered orange parasols made sure that Europe's illustrated magazines covered such "exotic" oriental events with enthusiasm.
But this new worldwide reinvention of royalty wasn't just a picturesque joke. It was in deadly earnest. It was the assassination of an Austrian arch-duke, after all, that triggered the outbreak of World War I, with the consequent deaths of millions.
This is not to say that the most famous of the Thai 19th century kings, Mongkut and Chulalongkorn (Rama IV and V respectively -- note the use of the name of an Indian god for these titles), were not influential national leaders. Mongkut had learned English from American missionaries and was keen to promote scientific and industrial development. Chulalongkorn sent many of his offspring to be educated in Europe. When he embarked on a tour visiting European royal families in 1897, he spent longest in the UK. Eleven of his sons were studying there at the time (he is recorded as having had 76 children in all).
Photography was an important ingredient in the promotion of the Thai kings' new image, and it still survives as a royal icon. Today's King Bhumibol (Rama IX) is rarely photographed inspecting the Thai provinces without his trademark camera.
Known as Siam until 1949, Thailand has long been an extraordinary place. It has been the classic buffer state, first between former local heavyweights Burma and the Khmer empire, then between the competing colonizing powers of Europe, and now between East and West themselves. In all cases it has staved off rivals and retained its independence, albeit sometimes at a price. Today the Thai government continues a valiant struggle against the power of the international tobacco industry, and is in addition pursuing one of the most enlightened anti-AIDS programs in Asia.
And the monarchy continues to flourish. You can even download the Thai king's jazz compositions free of charge from http://kanchanapisek.ot.th/index.en.html. Nevertheless, if you visit Chulalongkorn's restored teak mansion in Bangkok's Dusit Park, you will still be requested to go down on your knees in order to view the full-length portrait of the great king who kept a private cookbook that included a recipe for how to make a sandwich.
This book contains interesting material, even though it's also got its fair share of academic orthodoxy. Many of the common pieties are present -- Marx's concept of the "fetishization" of consumer products (well illustrated, nevertheless, by the obsession of today's young with brand names), the obligatory citing of the views of a Bali expert called Clifford Geertz, and indeed the entire idea of state power promulgated through "theater" (parades, anniversaries, and even in former times public executions). These well-worn elements are unremarkable. But the book does have interest, and, as so often, this interest lies in the detail.
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