Death train and the river Kwai

---

23 May 2001

Two days ago, I rode the “death train” over the Bridge Over the River Kwai. We were thrown together with 3 young men from Wales, taking a trip before heading off to university, and a Danish couple that had signed up for a tour of the floating market and rose garden and ended up with us at the death museum, crawling through a cave and riding elephants. Such is the way with these 2-day tours – you’re never really sure what it’ll be like.

The hook for this tour was the bridge. Of course, the Alec Guinness movie that made the bridge famous is historical fiction, far more about British class sensibility than it was about Imperial Japan’s building of the WWII railway into Burma. In fact, building the bridge itself was a relatively minor part of the horror inflicted on POWs and south Asian forced laborers in building the rail line. There are now several memorials and museums to the Allied POWs. Though there were far more south Asian conscript workers than any other group, and the death rate for these workers was about triple that of the POWs, these people are barely mentioned in the many historical markers and brochures. In fact, the volunteer guide at the museum built by Australians spoke of these workers as though they were there just to get jobs, and that they could walk away at any time. Hmmm. Forty percent of all these workers died on the job (compared to about 5%!o(MISSING)f POWs). Nearly half. Just a job and they were free to go. Right.

Given that some of these sites are largely created by the Western powers, to some extent, you expect and can accept the emphasis on white westerners being mistreated. And mistreated they were. The photos shown at the Australian museum show rows of men looking as emaciated as people in the Nazi death camp photos looked. But the near invisibility of the group most abused in the process is, of course, a form of cultural imperialism. Having the power to tell the story their own way, putting emphasis where they want, wealthy countries define the memory and alter history – even when that’s not a deliberate intention (which, of course, it often is).

[now writing from Bombay, trying to pretend like I’m still in Thailand and having to decide what little to convey from that country]

Interestingly, my friend saw a notice at the Thai “Jeath Train” museum indicating that there have been 2 memorials built to the South Asian workers, and one of these was built by the Japanese during the war as part of some sort of desire to seek forgiveness from the souls of those who died. Also interesting, a big part of the same museum, and often spoken of in tour guides, was the long history of conflict between Thailand and Burma. Burma invaded and conquered Thailand several times in the last 800 years. After WWII, a big chunk of the railway was dismantled out of fear that the Burmese could use it to invade again.

Burma. Or Myanmar, as its evil military junta is trying to call it these days. For about half out Thailand visit, we were within shouting distance of probably the most brutal dictatorship currently operating on the planet. It kind of gave me the creeps. In Burma, I could well be shot for wearing any of the T-shirts I have due to their subversive slogans. But here, this small bit of geography away, I was safe and privileged. Burma and Thailand were shelling and raiding each other’s territory while we were there, but it didn’t touch us, even though Thailand is hardly a bastion of progressive civil liberties.

Thai culture and politics are intriguing, and of course, I only got a glimpse. Buddhism is very strong and clearly part of the social control that is exerted – nearly every Thai man ordains as a Buddhist monk for at least a few days or months. The Monarchy is revered … or something. Nobody talks about it to foreigners, but the king’s image is everywhere, including in some of the omnipresent shrines and temples. It’s a constitutional monarchy, but more than half of the governments of the last 75 years ended in coups, and the constitution apparently allows the military to replace the government. So they really run the show, with some sort of power-sharing between the king, parliament and religion.

Whole we were there, the parliament was considering a new law to replace the “anti-Communist Act,” which restricted all sorts of civil liberties and gave huge power to the police and military in the name of fighting communism. Surprise, surprise, the new law being considered does all the same things, but is being justified in the name of fighting drugs. And, surprise, surprise, just as the law is being considered, there is a big “anti-drug” military action along the border with Burma. And surprise, surprise, some current members of parliament, who had been arrested under the nebulous provisions of that old law, now that they are in power, are ready to vote for the new law and its nebulous state security provisions.

Thai Buddhism is its own variant that seems to have incorporated, rather than replaced older, more “animist” beliefs. Magic, spirits, belief that all things, including buildings have life and spirit are deeply part of the mix and, for a while, the King was sort of considered a deity of sorts – similar to most old European monarchies – even though Buddhism doesn’t recognize these things. Every home has a “spirit house” to hold positive spirits. Even a little thatched, stick house I saw in a rice paddy in the middle of nowhere had a nice, brightly-colored spirit house.

One example of this mix of beliefs comes out in the “Ploughing Ceremony,” an annual ritual during which “holy cows” plow a field, rice seeds are blessed and scattered by monks – all overseen by the King in a grand public ceremony. At the end of the ceremony, a thousand people from all age groups and (supposedly) classes – many of whom camped out the night before – charge onto the field in a mad scramble to try to collect some of the blessed, “lucky rice.”

The ceremony has its roots in pre-Buddhist beliefs related to cycle of life and spirits helping to provide a good crop, and certainly was not created by the Monarchy. But the people believe in magic (as do I), and the thing wasn’t going to go away, so the religion and the Monarchy adapt and take “leadership” in the ceremony. And the sight (and feel, as I was right in there with them) of a thousand people jammed together in the field, trying to get some rice seeds they think are lucky. People jammed so closely together, we could barely move or even find the ground, because there was always someone there, sifting through the soil looking for another single grain of rice. I managed to find three grains. And I consider myself lucky – both to have these grains and to have been in on this authentic experience. Hours later, a couple dozen people were still on hands and knees, sifting through the soil looking for rice seeds.

Oh yeah, in Thailand I also learned how to drive a motorcycle. One of the highlights of the experience was finding myself driving along the crowded roads at 80Km/hr, with a passenger behind me, and a bus (the kind of bus that Greyhound would use if there were no regulations requiring functional brakes and steering) this bus decided to pass me ... IN MY LANE. Another highlight was wiping out on a rocky, hilly road (semi-path, actually) 40 Km from the nearest road sign, which I couldn’t decipher anyway.

I’m getting too long again, and should try to get some constructive work done.

---